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johnseedfanclub · 3 years

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Wip Day

Startin this bad boy up (at least this is an attempt)

Chapter 6(?)

TW: Mentions of drugs, suicide, vulgar language, hallucinations, abuse, vomiting

Angel rose up out of bed with a groan followed by a stretch

“Good fucking LORD” Angel grinded out as he cracked his back “I feel worse than that one time I was injected with fucking ketamine...”

After contemplating his life choices, and considering putting a bullet to his head, Angel managed to drag himself towards the window of his room.

“Hmm. Still out here huh?” Angel grumbled discontentedly “I would’ve hope it was a dream” Angel looked up as if he were speaking to God himself

Angel made his way downstairs and looked around. House was still quiet. There’s no way that she was taken, right? Missy couldn’t be gone. Angel had his own “gifts” but Missy was a trained army soldier, maybe higher than just a soldier. All Angel knew was that she was trained in the army and probably had way more control over herself than he did over himself.

“..Missy..?...MISSY?!” Angel called, walking through the deathly silent home

No...no..this isn’t good...They couldn’t have possibly kidnapped her. She’s a trained professional. She would know what to do in these situations. Angel is more likely to get himself captured and probably nearly get himself, and others, killed in the process. And aside from that, if Missy is gone...what will be of Angel? He is nothing but a ticking time bomb waiting to lose control.

Suddenly the silence was broken as his radio cracked “Ayooooo Angel!!!”

Angel jolted nearly sending himself out of his skin “Who the fuck is that” Angel took out his radio “How did I not lose this shit...” he whispered to himself before clicking the radio “Hello..?” Angel answered back

A voice of happiness and relief was heard on the other side “Angellll! Great to hear you’re alive bud! Kinda heard a lot of ruckus going on back at the bunker since you were....ya know...spotted and all but this whole ordeal kinda died down a bit of course..for now that is”

Jesus Christ who is this guy and why is he rambling at a time like this...it’s too fucking hot and early to be talking a man’s ear off.

“Also uh..Sorry about the whole smoke sesh we had the other day I kinda got a bit too excited and gave you way more than a shoulda..You probably feel-“

For fucks sake.

“Jesus fuck you’re talking way too fucking much.” Angel clicked the radio and it went dead silent. Angel drew out a deep sigh and clicked the radio again “Sorry...Havin a bad mornin...what’s your name now?”

“Oh shit my bad- you’re probably feeling like a dog that got ran over!” Connor laughed on the other side “Probably can’t remember a damn thing either...I’m Connor! The guy you met in the bunker” Connor replied in benevolence

Angel paced in the living room “Connor.....guy I met in the bunker......smoking...” Angel froze in realization “This fucking dickwad-“ Angel clicked his radio “YOU’RE THE GUY THAT TRIED TO FUCK ME UP WITH THAT FUCKING BLISS- BULLSHIT.”

“Woah...hey now I said sorry for that already. I meant good intentions. I would never purposely fuck a gay man over unless he fucked me or my guys ov-“

“GOOD INTENTIONS? I HAD TO FIGHT THROUGH RUGGGED MEN WHILE NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE STRAIGHT” Angel blurted out

“HEY. I WAS TRYING TO BE NICE. TO BE FAIR I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD A RECORD” Connor yelled back drawling out the ‘record’

“WHATEVER. Say now....what did you give me. I nearly had night terrors because of that fucking plant. And there’s no fucking way that it’s just weed.” Angel sat himself down on the couch thinking about the nightmares he had last night

There was a silence after that question. Was it that it was a mistake? Should he not have asked? Or hesitation? Maybe there was something in that cigarette-joint whatever it was...he-...Connor had to have gotten it somewhere...this wasn’t no ordinary plant or mix of bad drugs in a plant. This was...different.

“Okay....look. I trust you. But you cannot say this to anybody.” Connor spoke carefully

Gullible for a man who works in a cult

“What I put in that joint was bliss oil and ground up Moonflower....l-look I’m sorry okay...the flower adds to the high and the oil makes it burn longer” Connor had a very regretful tone in his voice. But that didn’t explain what any of that substance was...

“What the fuck is bliss oil? And moonflower...sounds slightly familiar..” Angel said confused

“Don’t worry about it. Can you meet me near John’s ranch later?” Connor asked

“That asshole? Fat chance drug mule” Angel returned with a chuckle

“Ya know you should be nicer. And how do you remember him easily???” Connor huffed, malcontented

“This man has been harassing me the last four months ever since I moved here. I think at that point it’s safe to say he has a rememorable face....a punchable one too.” Angel sneered

“O-oh right....probably not a good place then huh...”

“Of c- didn’t you say that I had a record Connor?”

“Okay okay...I wasn’t thinking straight-“

“Obviously”

“Jesus Chr- DO YOU WANT TO MEET AT FALLS END THEN?!”

“That would be great love” Angel mocked

“Ain’t you a peach...you know...I’m starting to believe what John was saying about you.....hmm.” The radio clicked and went silent

“Oh I’m goin to nick his ears off...” Angel growled “Can finish a sentence but not a fight”

Angel got up after having a moment of planning to beat up Connor later and decided it might be better to head to Fall’s End...maybe after a nap of course.. he won’t have to worry about Connor till later.

Angel decided to head back into his room and throw himself on his bed “Oooh...” Angel breathed out “I have a feeling this is gonna be one fucking day.” Angel drawled out in exhaustion before closing his eyes shut.

"𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁..."

Angel had a horrible gut wrenching feeling...that voice...that terrible fucking voice...

"𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁...." the voice sang his name in a comforting tone...but that voice was never a comfort to him

He kept his eyes shut...but didn’t know how much longer he would have to for him to go away...it was impossible to ignore something that was so insisting and demanding...

"𝒲𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓊𝓅...𝑀𝓎 𝓈 𝑜 𝓃."

He opened his eyes and saw red. Only red. The walls of his room. Red. The ceiling. Red. Where he slept. Red. The sky. Red. Everything was Red. He immediately felt sick but he couldn’t escape there was no escape. He sat up.

There.

There he was in the doorway. Blocking his only way out. The tall figure that loomed over Angel’s doorway. A Man that Angel could never fight, The Man that Angel fears the most more than anything...anyone in the world

𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓸 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮𝔃

Angel quickly looked around but realized he was stuck. He was backed into a wall. There was no way he would make it out alive.

"𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈...𝑀𝓎 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓎." The voice said tenderly moving closer to him

“D-don’t call me that....” Angel moved back to try to move himself away from the Man but there was no use of it. He started breathing heavy. With every step the Man took the more weight he felt on his chest. He started to spiral, every fighting instinct left his body. He felt like a rabbit being hunted by a Lion.

“𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝒾𝒻 𝐼 𝒹𝑜?"

“help...h e l p.” He tried to call out but struggled to get the words out between breaths “somebody help me. get me out of here.”

The Man grabbed Angel’s face and tightened his grip, enough to leave bruises on the skin. All the fight left his body...he froze in horror having to force himself to look in his eyes. Tears started to stream down his face and he whimpered and tried to scream.

"𝒮𝒽𝒽𝒽𝒽...𝓆𝓊𝒾𝑒𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓌..𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒" the Man stroked Angel’s face gently while shushing him like a puppy

“I don’t feel safe around you...I will never be safe or free in your hands....” Angel rasped out, nearly overworking his lungs for air “I will never call myself your son.”

The Man’s eye twitched but he cracked a smile "𝒜𝒽..." the man clicked his tongue before breathing in "𝒩𝑜..𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇" he retreated slightly before taking both of his large hands and pressing them on Angel’s throat, tighting them and he watched Angel panick and try to push him away legging out a crooked laugh

Angel saw his vision fading and slowly going dark. He was trying to fight back but it was a losing battle to begin with. So, he gave up.

"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑜𝓃"

Angel immediately woke up and started coughing and immediately felt something coming up his throat. He ran to the bathroom and flipped the toilet cover up and immediately started retching. Fluids poured out of his mouth that burned his nose and throat. And when he thought he was done more came back up. After finishing he was shaking and his head was pounding, tears were streaming down his cheeks and he still felt that weight in his chest. He looked into the toilet and...it was red. He flushed the toilet quickly as the color made him nauseous again not to mention he didn’t even have a chance to eat. It was nothing but bile. Angel sat back. He couldn’t even bring himself to try to speak to himself. So he sat on the floor, trembling....crying. The silence in the house was loud. He has to get out of here.

Angel quickly got up in a panic and washed his face and brushed his teeth, wanting to get that awful taste of bile off his tongue. After he packed his backpack with survival tools and some basic needs to help him out...there...I mean there was just more than one man chasing after him...

He wasted no time leaving after, wiping whatever tears were left on his face, God, he hated looking vulnerable I mean he was already enough..

“I’m never taking a fucking nap again...not until the exhaustion comes over me...”

Angel made the trek to Fall’s End. And though it wasn’t a long hike, it was quiet...almost too quiet.

“Hey-“

Angel reached for his hun and aimed at the sudden greeting

“Woah! Hey now! It’s just me Angel Mary May spoke softly

Angel lowered his weapon quickly in shock ‘I could’ve killed her for Christ sake’ he thought

“You okay love? You seem...different? On edge..?” she spoke with a tone that was almost a comforting as Missy, Bless her heart if she’s still out there

Angel tried to get the words out “....I......uhm...y-yea....kind of...just had a nightmare...no big deal...” he manage to put on a smile that could fool a careless man. But Mary saw right through it.

“Look I know you probably don’t wanna talk about whatever is going on with you bit don’t try to fool me with a smile m’kay” Mary scolded Angel a bit and started walking forward to Fall’s End

“Okay mom” Angel huffed out a laugh “Funny seeing you out here huh” Angel followed after her like a little duckling

“Funny seeing me out here? It’s noon Angel! Did you oversleep again?” Mary looked at Angel teasing him a bit

“Very funny. I was up earlier but was still tired from yesterday so I took a nap......unfortunately it didn’t work out in my...uhm....favor” Angel cleared his throat

“Well why don’t you tell me all about it?” Mary asked curiously

‘This is gonna be a common thing huh...’ Angel thought before breathing out “Where do I start?”

Tagging:

@mrspaigeomega @mrsladydiana @oorah22 @minilev @lilwritingraven @scungilliwoman

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hopetofantasy · 4 years

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Culture, parallels & meta - S3 E3

Zaterdag 08:10

Perfect parallel: An upset Robbe being little spoon to Noor this episode, him being a relaxed little spoon to Sander in the last one.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Moyo has half eaten wafers cookies on his bed. Between the cellphone time and timestamp, it took Robbe five minutes to get dressed and to the beach. The beautiful angel pendant makes its first appearance.

Bonus: This cinematography trick of using a wide shot with nobody else in the sight, makes us actually feel how lonely Robbe actually is.

Zaterdag 08:23

C is for culture: “Vamanos” - As you may have noticed, Flemish has a lot of words that aren’t typically Dutch. These are called ‘leenwoorden’ (= ‘borrowing words’). In some cases, the language has made the word its own, with their conjugation or sound (like barbecue - barbecuet - or e-mail - ge-e-maild), other times the expression is copied completely (like smartphone or laptop). There are various reasons as to why people don’t want to change it: globalization, wanting to be more vague/cool, general laziness, ...

Perfect parallel:

Sander’s playful “Are you the manager?” and “That’ll be zero stars on Booking.com” to Robbe when they meet in this episode, Sander’s sheepish “Zero stars on Booking.com” and Robbe’s pointed “Where is that manager when you need him?”, when they have their fall-out in a later episode.

Sander saying “When I booked this room, I explicitly asked for room-service” here and him actually booking a room with room-service for the both of them later on.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Jens’ keyboard is lying on top of the closet. Sander grabbing his keys (to his car?).

Zaterdag 08:44

C is for culture: The option to use self-scanning is pretty common in Belgian supermarkets, especially in shop-and-go city stores. You pick up the scanner, scan the stuff you buy, go to a counter, pay and walk out with your groceries. A sales assistant is still present to help out with problems or do random routine checks. It’s fast, easy and cost-efficient. The downside? Shoplifting becomes a bit easier this way.

That’s character: Sander is putting up a ‘cool guy, devil may care’ facade. He jokes about not scanning everything, dismisses Amber’s list, whirls the shopping cart around and sings David Bowie to this boy. He wants to make a lasting impression on Robbe. If he’s the most charming, chaotic and adventurous version of himself, then he doesn’t have to think about other stuff like his own crumbling relationship. (Also the reason why he doesn’t answer the question about Amber: they simply met through Britt). As the boxes fall down, so does Sander’s tough exterior, as he never intended to hurt Robbe by playing around in the supermarket.

Robbe’s clumsiness meter: +3, he almost topples off the cart twice and drops the chocolate bars on the floor. (The crash with Sander isn’t his fault though)

Oopsie:

Sander is wearing a leather jacket, but we don’t see it in the previous clip. Either he left it in his car or it’s an ‘oopsie’.

When Sander accidentally tosses Robbe into the boxes, we hear glass breaking. However, in the next shot, the boxes seem to empty (and they were supposed to be filled with chips, which don’t make that sound).

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Sander is wearing black Converse. They bought Jupiler beer. Robbe pulls out ‘Delhaize’ Biscuit chocolate bars and Florentin cookies.

Zaterdag 13:13

C is for culture: "Croques” - The word ‘croque’ is an abbreviation for ‘croque monsieur’ (= ‘crunch mister’). These are grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches, a typical greasy snack at taverns, markets, carnivals, your home, ... Other versions include the ‘croque madame’ topped with a fried egg, ‘croque bolognese’ with bolognese sauce, ‘croque hawai’ with a pineapple slice.

That’s character: It’s clear that Robbe has no idea how to eat properly. All throughout the season he eats unhealthy breakfasts (choco spread with cookies), snacks (chips, cookies) and dinners (Aïki noodles, frozen lasagna). But here we see the reason: he doesn’t seem to know how to cook or work a stove. Exactly why he buys prepackaged or instant food options. So, it’s probably for the best that Zoë helps out his eating habits.

Perfect parallel:

Robbe making an unhealthy breakfast in the previous episode, Sander providing him with an unhealthy snack in this one. (The way to a man’s heart is through the stomach)

Britt’s condescending “Listening to David Bowie again?” in this episode, her calling Robbe his next obsession similar to David Bowie later on.

Sander’s “Do you know where I can find the coffee?” to Robbe in an earlier scene and his “Was coffee on the list?” to Amber here.

Robbe’s clumsiness meter: +2, he stumbles backwards after Sander touches his shoulder and burns himself after turning the ‘croque’.

Nod to the OG: This kitchen scene is the equivalent of the ‘5 fine frøkner’ scene, as Sander sings his favorite song to Robbe and makes breakfast, whilst both flirt with each other (subtly).

Oopsie: They supposedly went to ‘Delhaize’ for all their groceries, but the ketchup bottle comes from ‘Carrefour’ and the butter from ‘Colruyt’.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Sander messes up the first words to ‘Under Pressure’ - it’s ‘pressure’ not ‘under pressure’. He mixes the weed with tobacco for his joint. The conflict on Sander’s face at the end.

Zondag 16:34

C is for culture: "What kind of shit question is this?” - They’re playing ‘De Slimste Mens ter wereld’ (= ‘The smartest human on earth’), a board game by the popular Flemish television show with the same name. The quiz is very challenging. People have to solve associative, general knowledge and out-of-the-box questions with multiple answers in different rounds. Points are awarded in the form of seconds, which are used during the game. The candidate with time left at the end, wins.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The group is drinking white wine out of plastic cups. Sander studied at ‘de!Kunsthumaniora’, the same school as Noor. Sander’s wearing his combat boots again.

Maandag 15:12

C is for culture: Aaron is wearing a bunny costume for the paintball game ‘Hunt the bunny’. This is usually played by people on a bachelor party or a corporate team building (with the groom/boss as the bunny). The goal is simple: the bunny has to cross the field from one corner to another, whilst the hunters shoot as much paintballs as possible to ‘kill’ it. Which is... rather painful, especially at close range.

Oopsie: What they’re doing is actually illegal or even impossible. People aren’t allowed to play paintball in protected environments, like dunes. Unless they’re doing it with a specialized organization who’s trained for these games (and are present at the time of playing) or have the written permission from the ‘Agency of Nature and Forest’, the police, the city, ... There is a whole heap of permissions, administrative papers and laws to deal with.

Lost in translation: Britt saying “Doe normaal” (= “Act normal”) has nothing to do with her dismissing Sander’s mental health. This Flemish phrase is often used to calm people down, telling them that they’re acting rather irrationally or childish. It’s an angry way of saying “Can’t you behave yourself? Calm down. What are you doing? Be rational!”.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The blue and red flags tells us that they’re going to play ‘capture the flag’. Some of the ‘pfff’ gun sounds you hear, indicate that the air pressure needs to be checked. Moyo took off his protection mask, which is dangerous and sometimes considered a foul during the game.

Dinsdag 20:02

C is for culture: "Do you know how to make s’mores?” - Toasting marshmallows above a campfire, isn’t really a tradition in Belgium. So that’s why the girls don’t know how to make s’mores.

Lost in translation: ’Smoor’ is a Flemish dialect word for smoke or the act of smoking. It does sound a lot like ‘s’mores’. This is why Luca thinks Aaron wants to hold the marshmallow into the fire.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Of course Robbe had nothing to lose with Noor, he wasn’t actually interested in her. With Sander, however, Robbe doesn’t dare to do anything.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Aaron is drinking ‘Bock’ beer. Amber looks at Aaron like she really likes him, when he’s preparing the s’mores.

Woensdag 20:42

C is for culture:

“An old german bunker” - The province of West-Flanders as well as its coast still has a lot of remnants left from WWI. From German bunkers to trench-networks, burial sites and museums, the 'Great war’ left its traces. Unsurprisingly, every year, people still find around 300 tons of (active) bombs underneath the fields.

“Around ‘All Souls’ Day’ they come back to life” - ‘All Souls’ Day’ is a christian holiday on the 2nd of November, on which the dead are commemorated. However, since that day isn’t an official holiday in Belgium, people visit the graves and honor of their loved ones on the 1st of November, ‘All Saint’s Day’.

The group drinking ‘jenever’ shots - ‘Jenever’ (known in English as ‘Dutch gin’ or ‘genever’) is a traditional liquor in Belgium and the Netherlands. Young people usually drink these colored, high percentage spirits at Christmas markets, pre-drinks or parties when it’s cold outside. Different flavors include vanilla, chocolate, berries, lemon, apple, ...

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The wooden panel behind Jens says ‘Volg de pijlen’ (= ‘Follow the arrows’). Aaron and Amber are holding hands after their fall. Robbe downs a chocolate-cream ‘jenever’ shot at the end.

Woensdag 21:53

Perfect parallel: Robbe lashing out at his friends in this episode - he feels left out and confused about his sexuality - and blames the pranks. Him doing the same in the next - he thinks his friends are hypocrites by saying homophobic comments to him yet defending the gay teacher - and blames the vlogs.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The second living room has a spinning disco light.

Donderdag 21:12

C is for culture:

“In dat jeugdhuis” - A ‘jeugdhuis’ (= ‘youth house’) is a meeting place, run by young volunteers. All teens and young adults are welcome to hang out, throw parties, drink at their bar, organize concerts, attend workshops - just making the space their own.

“He sounded like a begging Romanian” - Luca is referring to Romanian Romani families, who roam around in the streets of Brussels begging for some money. These ethnic groups have a mostly negative image amongst the Europeans. Which is why she states this harsh and hurtful comparison.

Perfect parallel: Noor asking Robbe for a playlist so she can listen to his favorite songs here, Sander actually making a Bowie playlist for Robbe in the next episode.

Lost in translation: Luca is mocking the West-Flemish dialect by copying what the boy said, namely “Moe’en julder ok ‘n flyer ‘ennen?”. This dialect is known for blowing their ‘g’ and ‘h’ so that they sound similar, conjugating their 'yes’ or ‘no’, having double subjects, seemingly swallowing some letters, among other things. It’s one of the most confusing and difficult dialects for the Flemish to understand themselves.

Oopsie: When Aaron asks Amber if she needs a drink, Britt and Sander are dancing right behind him. When she answers and walks away, they’re suddenly gone, only to be seen again when Moyo walks over.

Nod to the OG/Wink to other remakes: The ‘call your girlfriend’ kiss, duh!

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Jana is wearing one white contact lens.

Vrijdag 08:43

Perfect parallel:

Sander searching for coffee first thing in the morning earlier this episode and him pouring a cup before any task in this clip.

Sander’s “Maybe I’m scared that I will never find someone” here and Robbe’s multi-layered “I’m so happy that I found you” in the last episode.

Oopsie: When the boys walk to the recycling spot, the lighting changes from sunny to clouded to dark in a matter of seconds.

Funny coincidence: Sander referring to his relationship as ‘ups and downs’, probably similar to his experience with bipolarity.

Wink to other remakes: An almost kiss near trash, remind you of certain Italian boys?

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Amber delegating tasks, but doing nothing herself. Robbe smiles for a few milliseconds, because Sander touched him. The flash of panic in Robbe’s eyes afterwards.

#wtfock #wtfam #cpm rewatch #skam #skam belgium

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blueaura · 4 years

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Don’t Get Caught

A/N: Hey everyone, hope y’all are doing well. I wrote this little fic one-shot thingy for @crashdevlin‘s 3k review challenge. I got prompt #13. Big congratulations to Cassie for hitting 3k followers! Hope Dean somewhat likes this fic.

Summary: Sam and Dean are hunters, but what if Y/N doesn’t want to be one?

Word count : 2.9k

“What’s for dinner tonight? If you say burgers again, I will tell Sam and then you’ll have to little with the ‘eat healthy’ lecture again.” You walked into the kitchen, peering over Dean’s shoulder to look at what he was making. “As much as I love your burgers, we’ve had them four days in a row and if I see another one today, I’m gonna actually throw up.”

“I liked it better when you didn’t snark back. Now it’s like living with teenage Sam all over again. Teenagers are the fucking worst,” Dean lightly quipped back giving you a look that confirmed he was just teasing. “And it’s chicken pasta tonight, you little monster. I can switch things up every once in a while.”

“You liked me better when I was too scared to offend you in case you threw me out?” you deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow at Dean. He gave you a look. He clearly didn’t appreciate your humour regarding your rough start with them.

You met Sam and Dean on a hunt. They were appalled that a 15-year-old was hunting alone and basically forced their way into your life. Dean, specially, refused to leave you alone, no matter how many times you pushed him away. Your parents had been hunters and not the most affectionate people, so when pushing the Winchesters away had failed and they had successfully wormed their way into your heart, you were so scared that the first real family you had was going to abandon you if you weren’t enough, you didn’t dare place a toe out of the imaginary line you had created for yourself. It took a long time for them to get you to open up to them and come out of your shell. You never knew why they chose you. From what you knew, they had met other hunter kids before but for some reason, instead of pawning you off to the first responsible adult who could keep you safe, they welcomed you into their life and their home. Your home, you reminded yourself.

“Pasta sounds great. You’re gonna make me fat with all your cooking you know. I’ll have to start running with Sam. I hate running with Sam,” you whined, changing the subject before Dean could start reprimanding you.

“Everybody hates running with Sam,” Dean said, letting go of your previous comment. “And you’re healthy, which is all that matters. I don’t want you thinking about getting fat, you do enough exercise to balance out your eating habits.”

You rolled your eyes. For a guy who claimed to hate ‘chick-flick’ moments, Dean Winchester sure initiated a whole lot of them. Dean lightly clipped you in the back of your head when he saw you shrugging of his words of wisdom. You could see he was gearing up for another lecture. He was such a dad.

“Where’s Sam anyway?”

Dean clearly knew what you were doing but he let you have your moment of victory anyway. If he had learned anything in the past 2 years with you, it was to pick his battles. So, he let it go. For now.

Sam came back in time for dinner. It was one of Dean’s new rules. If you were not on a case, dinner was family time and everyone had to eat at the table. Sam agreed. While Dean acted more like a dad than Sam, the younger Winchester was just as bad. You remembered when Sam accidentally found the pack of condoms in your room. You winced at the memory. There had been a lot of yelling, followed by an awkward conversation about being safe. It was traumatic for all parties involved and you both mutually decided not to tell Dean. If Sam overreacted, you definitely never wanted to see Dean’s reaction.

Being scared of Dean’s reaction was one of the main reasons why you didn’t tell him about the play you were taking part in for school. Yes, you had to go to school. Apparently, high school was important. While you hated school and people in general, you fell in love with theatre. Signing up for drama club had been a blessing for you. Pretending to be someone else and telling stories and being on stage was the only thing that got you through worrying about the brothers when they were out on hunts. But you knew you had to be a hunter. It was the family business after all. So, you never told Sam or Dean what you were doing.

You knew they were getting suspicious. The practices for the play were getting more intense and you could only use the excuse of having detention or staying back to study in the library so many times. For one, they knew that after five consecutive detentions, the school called the parents or guardians, and B – they knew how much you hated school. Just the fact that you were staying a minute more than you had to was a big red flag, specially when you had a perfectly good library at the bunker.

You still had to think of an excuse about going out at night on the final day. While the dress rehearsal was in the afternoon, the actual production was late in the evening and you knew there was no way you could sneak out of the bunker.

While you were pacing in your room trying to think of ideas, the brothers were contemplating your recent behaviour in the kitchen while they did the dishes.

“I don’t know man; she’s been shifty all week. I’m starting to get the feeling she wants us out of the bunker. She keeps bringing up every possible lead for a case. When was the last time Y/N purposely looked for a potential hunt? She hates being left alone. Something’s going on.”

Sam knew Dean was right. This was unusual behaviour for you. Even when you were mad at them, you never hid things. Coupled with all your lame-ass excuses for staying back at school, Sam had a feeling Dean was onto something.

“You don’t think something’s off at school, do you?”

Sam knew all about peer pressure. He also knew Y/N was extremely strong willed but so was he and he still got roped into smoking weed in college. Not that he thought Y/N would ever get into drugs, specially the heavy kind but there was always the niggling sensation at the back of his head going ‘what if?’.

“She would have told us if there was something bothering her,” Sam tried to sound confident but he could hear the uncertainty in her own voice.

Dean paused where he was drying the dishes, looked over at his brother and decided enough is enough.

“Here’s the thing – there’s trusting someone and just being plain stupid. Y/N is definitely hiding something and I’d rather she be mad at us for invading her privacy than regret not stepping in sooner. So, seeing how she desperately wants us out of the bunker next week, we’re going to go out of the bunker. Find a fake case Sammy, we’re going fake hunting.” Dean managed a nonchalant grin as he went back to his dishes. Sam contemplated for a moment and reluctantly agreed.

It was 2 days before the play and you still hadn’t figured out how to sneak out. You contemplated telling them you had a sleepover or a party to get to but they knew you well enough to know you didn’t get along with your classmates. If only you could dumb yourself down enough to socialise with them. You sighed and mindlessly browsed through the men of letters library.

“Hey kiddo, we found a hunt a couple of towns over. Looks like a simple salt n’ burn. You gonna be okay on your own for a couple of days?” Sam’s voice jerked you back to reality and when you registered what he was saying, you barely managed to keep yourself from squealing out loud.

Your giddiness must have been obvious as Sam and Dean shared one of those looks – the ones you hated – and asked you if you were alright.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. And yes, I’ll be good by myself. When are you guys leaving?”

If they had any second thoughts about their plan before, your answer just got rid of them. You were never this excited about a hunt and you always, always asked about every little detail.

“We’re probably gonna leave tonight, drive overnight to avoid the traffic. So, I for one am gonna catch some zee’s while I can. Unlike Disney princess hair over here, I won’t be getting sleep on the road.”

“You know that wouldn’t be a problem if you’d let me drive for a change!”

“Hell no, I ain’t listening to your classical crap.”

You shook your head at their antics as they walked away. Finally, things were going your way.

Things were not going your way. The brothers had left the previous evening (although they didn’t go far, but you didn’t have to know that). The day of the play had arrived and you were already nervous when you heard that the male lead was sick and his understudy had to step in. You hated him. He was one of those cocky high school boys who thought they were the shit. You had to reluctantly admit that at least the guy wasn’t the worst actor in the world. Although, if he kept hitting you with his cheesy pickup lines, you were going to stab him. Hard.

Dean and Sam spent the night at a motel before making their way back to the bunker after you’d left for school. After taking a quick shower and grabbing fresh clothes, the brothers took one of the more inconspicuous cars in the bunker basement and parked outside the school. They knew you would recognise the Impala immediately but you’d never really been interested in the other cars, much to Dean’s dismay.

“Never thought we’d be staking out Y/N,” Dean said wryly.

“Well, at least everything is normal for now. Maybe we were wrong and she’s just being a teenager you know.”

Dean doubted it but didn’t say anything. They waited for Y/N to come out when school finally ended but she never did. Sam even scoped out where the stoner kids were and she wasn’t there, much to his relief. Finally, Y/N came out 3 hours after school ended, looking extra tired but otherwise alright. The brothers shared a confused glance but sighed in relief. At least she wasn’t doing anything illegal.

You went straight home and fell asleep to recharge before your performance tonight. You got up in the evening, one hour before you had to be at school to calm your nerves.

Sam and Dean were confused. Y/N had done what she would normally do on any other day. Maybe she stayed in school for a longer time than usual but other than that, she didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.

Dean suddenly had a horrifying thought.

“Dude, if this whole thing is about a boy, I’m gonna actually kill her.”

Before Sam could reply, they saw Y/N leaving the bunker.

“It’s late. Where the hell is she going? And what the hell is she wearing?” Dean’s voice grew more incredulous with each question. “If she’s sneaking out to a party, I’m grounding her. I don’t care how old she is.”

They followed her without being seen. To the school? What the hell?

There was a lot of buzz at the school despite the late hour. Confused, the brothers got out of their car and followed Y/N inside, making sure to stay a few feet behind her.

“Is it just me or are there a lot of adults here?” Dean asked.

Then they saw the poster outside the hall Y/N had just entered. Rock Hills presents ‘West Side Story: the musical’. Sam stood there gaping at the poster and Dean had never been more confused in his life.

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know”

“Seriously. What the hell?”

“I don’t know!”

“Come on. Let’s go in,” Sam nudged his brother in the direction that the other parents were going.

The host said something about the show starting in 5 minutes but they ignored him and made their way backstage. They located Y/N quite easily. She was standing in a corner, mentally psyching herself. They made their way towards her and gently tapped her on the shoulder.

You were just minding your own business in the corner of the room before the show, going through the whole spiel of ‘why did I do this’ and ‘holy shit I’m gonna throw up’ when you felt a hand tap your shoulder. Startled, you jumped and turned around to glare at whoever disturbed you, when you froze. Sam and Dean were staring at you incredulously and had your legs been working you would probably have hightailed out of there.

“Fuck,” you softly exclaimed under your breath.

“Something you wanna share with the class kiddo?”

You couldn’t make out the exact emotion in Dean’s voice but it didn’t sound like anger. You held onto that and realised you had to be on stage in less than sixty seconds.

“Uhm, hold that thought,” was what you said instead. You went to peek through the curtain. Yep, 45 seconds.

“I love you! No time to explain – gotta go!”

With that you rushed on stage, more terrified than ever. That melted away once you started performing though. You forgot all about your worries for the duration of the play. You acted, sang and danced your heart out and when the thundering applause reached your ears and you saw the brothers in the audience cheering you on along with everyone else, you had a feeling it would be okay.

You were backstage again, taking off your stage make-up and gearing up to go face the music as it were. You were scared of the brother’s reaction and even you could tell you were procrastinating. Most of the other cast had left and it was time for you to leave too.

They were standing outside, leaning against a car. The first thing that stupidly came out of your mouth was – “Where’s baby?”

Dean laughed. A full belly laugh. You felt some of your anxiety leave your body.

The three of you looked at each other. Sam was the first one to make a move. He pulled you in for a tight hug, almost lifting your feet off the ground, kissing the top of your head.

“You were incredible, kiddo.”

You buried yourself into his chest as your eyes filled with tears of relief. Of acceptance.

“Thanks moose,” Your reply was muffled against his chest which moved with silent laughter at the nickname.

You finally pulled away from Sam when Dean cleared his throat. He looked at you blankly for a moment and dread filled your entire being.

“You ever pull something like this again, I will kick your ass.”

For a second you thought he was talking about the play and your heart dropped.

But then he pulled you into a hug too. You tensed, confused.

“Dammit kid, I don’t like being worried about you. Stop doing shit like this. Why the hell didn’t you just tell us you were taking part in this thing? You’re not nearly as good at the hiding thing as you think you are. I was terrified something shady was going on with you.”

Although he was almost yelling in your ear, you sagged against him as the tension seeped out of your body. This time you actually did start crying. Dean just hugged you tighter and Sam gently rubbed your back.

After a few minutes Dean pulled back a little and put both hands on either side of your head.

“You never have to hide anything from us. By now I like to think I know how your mind works and I can guarantee that I will never be mad at you if you want to pursue anything other than hunting. You’re not our kid because you’re a hunter Y/N/N. You’re family, regardless of your job. Clearly I’m not doing a very good job at this parenting thing if you don’t know that already.”

You furiously shook your head, hiding your face in his shirt again.

“You’re the best dad anyone could ask for. You both are.”

Your words were barely audible and your face was extremely red but the brothers still heard you and grinned at each other over your head.

“We love you too, kiddo.” Dean kissed your forehead and started walking towards the car, pulling you along.

“What do you say we get some ice cream and celebrate at the bunker? We could watch some movies, make some popcorn? You know what I’m in the mood for Sammy? West Side Story,” Dean grinned as you groaned into his shoulder.

The brothers continued to tease you as you walked to the car. You finally felt happy.

“But seriously guys, where is baby?”

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #cassies3kreviewchallenge #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam x reader #dean x reader #Cee tries to write

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thoughtslikeaminefield · 4 years

Text

Prompt: Fluffy dean or Jensen smoking weed plz, ty

Characters: Dean Winchester x female reader (1st person)

Warnings: 18+, weed smoking, fluff

Words: 1k

Dean draws on the pen long and slow. His eyes smile and close happily, and I can just start to smell the Bubba Kush as it fills the air like the aroma of baked bread.

After a still moment, he hands me the shiny, silver cylinder with a grin as smoke rolls from between his lips.

I accept with a mirroring grin before taking an equally deep, languid drag.

We’re silent but for small huffs of smokey laughter as we pass the pen back and forth a few times. Finally, Dean sets it aside and reaches for me.

He pulls me into him, tucks me under his arm with a hum as he lounges into the corner of the sectional. His long legs sprawl, but he makes room for me. He always makes room for me.

When Dean has to be big, he uses his whole self. His body takes up space and his mere presence can make the darkest of demons shudder.

But Dean’s natural state is this — nesting, nuzzling, curled up and warm. He speaks softly and quietly. His voice isn’t always rough and rugged.

Sometimes he sings.

Right now, he’s singing Golden Slumbers by The Beatles.

Dean makes me feel protected all the time. Physically, obviously, but he also makes me feel cared for, and safe in my own mind.

The same hands I’ve seen thrust a blade into the guts of angels and demons are tender — fingertips light but persistent as they slip under my tank top and splay over my belly.

“Once there was a way,” he sings quietly. “To get back homeward.”

His voice and touch warm me from the inside out, and the Kush doesn’t hurt.

“Once there was a way,” he continues, his fingers swirling patterns on my bare skin. “To get back home. Sleep pretty darling, do not cry.”

I close my eyes and draw a breath before finishing the last line with him.

“And I will sing a lullaby.”

Dean buries his nose in the nape of my neck and inhales deeply.

“Y’always smell so good,” he slurs a little and it makes me smile.

“I love it when you smoke,” I admit, burrowing back into him, hearing him groan and feeling him harden against my ass.

“Hmm,” he grunts quietly. “Yeah, I love it when I smoke, too.”

We both laugh.

He slides his hand upward to gently cup one of my breasts. They’re sore because I'm on my period, but his heat and grasp make me hiss with pleasure.

He chuckles in my ear and brushes a thumb over the thin yoga bra covering my nipple. “Sensitive?” he asks, pulling the shell of my ear between his lips.

I nod and squeeze my thighs together for friction. A burst of sensation like firelight shoots from between my legs through my entire body.

Sex with Dean is always really good. A lot of times it’s a rushed, life-affirming kind of thing. So when we have time, every touch is at once charged and grounded. And when we have time and are also able to imbibe? It’s metamorphic.

I shiver at the thoughts careening through my mind, and Dean drags the blanket we leave draped over the back of the couch to cocoon us.

I want him. I want him to love me, fuck me, anything he wants, but I want it just for us — no prying eyes of the bunker walls or books or the old recliner he pulled off someone’s curb to put in the Dean Cave.

Just to be his in our own little bubble.

No Sam, no Cas, no Impala, and no Jack, asking innocent, painstaking questions. No pressure.

Dean slowly, carefully pulls my bra up over my breasts, tucks it around my collarbone and touches me so delicately and so purposefully, so intent to make me feel.

And it’s so much. It’s intense.

He palms one breast and squeezes as he circles the other nipple with the tip of one finger. Just light circles, clockwise then counter. It’s sending me off somewhere just as he holds me close.

He’s talking, and I’m breathless. I hear enough. I hear his instructions to push down my sweats and his so he can get inside.

I hear myself beg, whimper.

“Sweet girl,” he says, his mouth damp and hot next to my ear. “Open up for me.”

As if I am ever not open and existing just for him.

Then he’s sliding inside me, heavy, thick, and hot.

I can feel every crest and bow of him.

He props himself on one elbow and uses that hand to lift my chin, my neck open wide, waiting for his lips and tongue and teeth as he slips his other hand between my legs to touch me.

He’s barely touching me, barely moving, but it feels like so much. I didn’t realize I was so wet but the sounds... ugh, the sounds.

“So hot and horny when you smoke and're all hormonal,” he mutters, nipping at my jaw. “Haven’t even started, and you’re gonna come.”

He pulls out, and it feels like he’s taking away something essential to my life. Every millimeter is vital. I need it.

“Please, Dean,” I whine.

He murmurs calming words and soothes my heated skin with his calloused hands as he pushes back inside, and I throb around him, choking on vowels.

“That’s it,” he breathes, picking up his pace. “Fuck, I love it when you come on me. Do it again.”

Dean rolls me to my stomach, and the blanket slips as he plants one foot on the floor. He paws at my pants and his to get a better angle before gripping my hips and hammering into me.

He’s swearing and laughing, and all I can do is take it.

More Dean Winchester Fic

SPN Fic

My Master List

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut

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gambissanctum · 3 years

Text

Nostalgia Ultra: Jenn X Khalil/Strawberry Swing (Fanfic part 3)

"When we were kids, we hand-painted strawberries on a swing . Every moment was so precious then, I'm still kicking it, I'm daydreaming on a strawberry swing."

Over the next year, Philky and I got really close. I learned he was a former ASA member that fell on hard times and that clearly had a drinking problem. Painkiller and I got more accustomed to each other. He was still an asshole but a hell of a lot more tolerable. Philky and I struck a deal that if I broke into this abandoned ASA bunker that he would help me get a handle on PainKiller.We ended up using the money to create our lab and bar. In addition to Philky I also met Donald and Priscilia. Donald who at the time was in a similar state that I had met Philky in, was an ex-military guy with a lot of medical knowledge. He has a duality about himself too. I think that's how we bonded so quickly. He's always a voice of reason amongst the chaos and good at keeping us all in line.

Priscilla is originally from New Orleans. She is a firecracker with southern charm. She moved to Gothan for few years and use to strip. While in Gotham she got into it with people you don't want problems with so she like me decided it was time to find a new place. She came into the bar one day looking for a bartending job. She's been here ever since. She's also a meta with the power of telepathy, shapeshifting and she's even skilled in Martial arts. Needless to say, she's been an asset since she walked in those doors 6 months ago.

"Hey Khalil, you good?" Priscilla snapped her fingers in front of my face at the bar. I snap myself back into the present. "Painkiller" I shrug. "He giving you trouble again? You know I can go in there and whoop his ass" she suggested. She was always volunteering to fight with PainKiller. To be honest I think both of them enjoyed the fights. "Nah, you're good, he says hello though" I replied. "I bet he had more to say than that" she laughed. Since Priscilia is telepathic she can get into the head of just about anybody. She calls it a blessing and a curse because sometimes she can control it, sometimes she can't. Sometimes she hears multiple conversations at once, which can be overwhelming for her. That's where Philky comes in. He's helped her control things a bit better. I think collectively we're all just works in progress here in Akashic Valley.

We were closed up for the night so I headed to my room. I was having one of those nights again. Not bad just reminiscing. I hadn't sketched in a while so I dusted off my sketchbook and pencils and got to work. There was a sketch I was working on I hadn't finished yet. A little time had passed and there was a knock on the door.

I looked up to see Priscilia standing there. " You drawing Jenn?" she teased. Priscilla was like a big sister in a lot of ways. " How'd you know?" I asked. "Khalil I can read minds...." she laughed.

"Aye stop doing that " I threw a pillow at her. " This time it was on accident, I swear" she raised her hands. "Pain Killer is gonna catch you off guard one of these days" I joked."Mane, PK don't want none of this" she started punching the air. Pris had been through a lot too but she was always making things lighter for everyone around her. "Speaking of reading minds, you wanna know what she's thinking right now?" She folded her arms raising a brow. "You can do that?" I was curious. I didn't want to invade Jennifer's privacy but I did want to know.

"I told you Philkys been helping me" she reminded me. She started to concentrate. When she's tapping in so to speak she looks like she's in a trance. Her eyes gloss over and turn a glowing white."She's on a roof...smoking weed". I chuckled a bit. "Sounds like Jenn". " Someone just joined her on the roof, looks like a guy". "Probably TC" I replied."No, actually this guy looks a lot like you....". She was confused at first but she tried to concentrate more.

"This is almost uncanny, this guy looks more like you than PK does". I started to get concerned."What?"

"Philky taught me how to hop to another person's consciousness outside of my original target....let me hop on to this guy. I don't trust this". She tapped over into the guy's brain. Her eyes widened. "What! What do you see Pris?!" I inquired. " This guy does not have good intentions at all. It's a shapeshifter. I think Jennifer is in trouble."What is he thinking Pris?" Her eyes reverted back and she looked me directly in the eyes. "Nothing good, I think he's going to kidnap her". I felt like time stopped for a moment. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Who would want to kidnap Jen?

I grab my phone and call TC. "Hey Khalil? Are you alright? It's kinda late" he answered.

"Yeah, I know.I think something bad is about to happen to Jenn. I need you or Anissa to go over to the house like now." My anxiety was high.I knew time was of the essence.

"How do you know? What's going on?" TC sounded like he was half awake so this call and request was coming out of left field.

"There's a guy who looks like me on the roof with Jennifer right now. It's a shapeshifter and we think he's going to try to harm Jenn, you have to go now." I pleaded.

I look over a Priscilla she's back in the trance. That was until she started shaking. I rushed off the phone with TC as he agreed to go to the house. "Pris!" I yelled out running over to her convulsing body. Just then Donald and Philky ran in. "What's going on? Philky ran over to aid Priscilia. "Let's get her to the lab".

TC attempts to call Jenn but there's no answer. He contacts Anissa and she tells him she's on the way there too. TC gets to the house first but Jenn was already gone. There didn't seem to be any signs of struggle but there was a letter on her vanity.

It read:

" Hey J,

I know it's been a while. I've been trying to stay out the way. Forgive me if this is too much. I could understand if you still want nothing to do with me but I needed to get his off my chest. You've been a light in my life even when everyone else gave up on me.

I cherish the memory of the strawberry swing, where we first met. The moment I saw you, I knew you were going to be an important part of my life.

When I look at you, I just want to protect you even though I know you don't need my protection.

Over the past year, I've made some friends and they have helped with my control of PainKiller. The good news is I don't have the kill order anymore. I really want to see you. If you are okay with it please meet me on the roof for old times sake Saturday night.

All my love,

Khalil

Anissa comes in. "What's going on? Where's Jenn?" she asked."That's what I'm trying to figure out, look at this." TC hands Anissa the letter. She reads it. "Khalil?" "Yes and No, so from what Khalil told me there's a shapeshifter impersonating him and I think it got to Jenn."

#black lightning #blacklightning #painkiller #jenniferpierce #gambissanctum #lightning #khalil payne #pain killer #china anne mcclain #jordan calloway

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wat-the-cur · 4 years

Note

The weird hc thing for the frog brothers please

What do they smell like?: Dried sweat, scalp grease and dust. Edgar and Alan take baths once a week, though sometimes this will stretch to a fortnight. This is not really something you can get away with as a teenager, but they either forget, or do not feel comfortable enough to bathe more regularly. Usually, Edgar forgets and Alan does not want to. The smell of their clothes actually overpowers their own smell. They use a scented spray to cover the stink of marijuana and avoid any interference from their teachers. The combination of smoke and spray smells rather musty. Alan’s breath often smells like cherry flavoured gum, as he chews it regularly.

How do they sleep? (Sleeping positions, schedules, etc): Their schedules differ, in spite of them working the same job and going to the same school. Edgar is very regimented in his sleep patterns. He goes to bed at 9:00pm and wakes at 5:00am, every weekday. He does this to take a couple of hours to prepare for the day ahead, before returning to the bedroom to wake Alan at 7:00am. Edgar has done this since he was eight years old, so he would never have to rush himself in the morning and start the day in his own terms. He used to be quite the night owl, as a tot. Edgar sleeps, almost on his belly, with his knees pressed into the mattress and his face in the pillow. He keeps a hand beneath the pillow, close to a stake and a crucifix. He has to have his body covered by a duvet, even in the Santa Carla summertime.

Alan has great difficulty falling asleep, as he finds it very hard to switch his brain off. He lays awake, while Edgar sleeps, almost afraid to drop off himself and lose his train of thought. Over the years, Edgar has tried different drafts and herbal remedies, to help Alan sleep more easily. Usually, he gives him a hot chocolate, whether he want it, or not. Because Alan usually does not sleep until the early hours, he wakes tired and headachy. He ends up falling asleep involuntarily, during the day. Alan sleeps on his side in a tight foetal position, with a pillow cuddled to his front. He sleeps under a lighter blanket than Edgar and he has a dragon toy under his head, as a second pillow.

They both snore.

What music do they enjoy?: Their tastes are similar, but different. Alan loves psychedelic rock. Some of his favourites include The Doors, Syd Barrett, Pink Floyd, Gong, The 13th Floor Elevators and Captain Beefheart (who’s music is not really psychedelic, so much as avant-garde). It was all the sort of music his parents played in the house when he was little, things he remembers hearing so early and it brings him joy and comfort. Edgar, on the other hand, is more of a metalhead. He likes heavy/progressive rock. Some of his favourites are Rainbow, Dio, Black Sabbath, Rush, Hawkwind, Lynyrd Skynyrd and Deep Purple. His eyes just light up, when he hears Dio’s voice. They both enjoy Cajun music, too, which their mother used to play when they were young.

How much time do they spend getting ready in the morning?: Barely any, honestly. They might take a few minutes to chose an outfit, but once it’s on it’s just a brush across the teeth, a few scrapes through the hair and done. Edgar sometimes uses a hairbrush.

Their favourite thing to collect?: I like to think that they collect animal figures. Wood, ceramic, glass, plastic, you name it. They are not just in their room, they are on practically every surface in the house. They are always trying to get band posters cheap and their walls are plastered with old, faded ones with worn edges. They collect crosses and crucifixes for the sake of protection, though for Edgar they are also comfort items. In the corner of their room, they have an ancient bucket of assorted pebbles, shells and shards of glass they collected off the beach as youngsters. They do not want to throw any of it away.

Left, or right handed?: Alan is right handed, Edgar is left handed.

Religion (if any)?: They are both Christians. It stands to reason, if the crosses and holy water work on the vampires. They both believe in God and Christ and they both pray a good deal. Edgar started digging an end times bunker in the tiny back yard, but ended up hitting a pipe, so now they just have a huge heap of mud, an exposed pipe and a mountain of tinned food under a tarpaulin.

Favourite sport?: Edgar has always enjoyed running. He used to run laps for stimulation all the time as a little frog and as a teenager, he is a decent distance runner. Alan stacks shelves, sweeps floors and hunts vampires, but apart from that he wants to be left alone.

Favourite touristy thing to do when traveling? (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc): They love looking at animals. Zoos are great, but they especially like aquariums, they are so peaceful and dark. They have only visited such places on school trips and they were about the only school trips they enjoyed. They just peeled off from the class and ran off to do their own sightseeing. They do sometimes enjoy museums, too, especially natural history and war/military museums.

Favourite kind of weather?: They prefer cooler weather, because they like to dress in layers. They enjoy listening to thunderstorms, too, though they hate being out in the rain.

A weird/obscure fear they have?: Edgar is afraid of addiction (I don’t care if he smoked weed in “The Thirst”, when has anyone taken the sequels seriously?), or anything that could affect his consciousness. He is scared of losing control of his body. Alan is afraid of waking up with someone else’s mind and memories.

The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail?: Neither of them like fairgrounds, or arcades, because of the crowds and the noise. They can barely stand the arcade machines in their own shop. They do have games they are good at, though. They are both very good at chess, they do pretty well in trivia quizzes, depending on the subject and they are both valuable team members for Pictionary.

#asks #ask loathsome-aesthete #corpse-of-bandersnatch #the lost boys #Lost Boys #frog brothers #edgar frog #alan frog #awesome monster bashers #headcanons

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hannahindie · 6 years

Text

The Grass Is Always Greener

Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader, Dean Word Count: 7,358 Warnings: Alcohol, weed, language, cracky goodness, so much smut. Just...just filth. Like a pinch of plot towards the end, but it’s like...guys, it’s just...you shouldn’t read it if you’re under 18. Hell, you maybe shouldn’t read it if you’re over 18. I mean, for me, anyway. It could be worse. But it’s all over the place, and there’s just a lot of it. So....here you go. A/N: This was written for @squirrel-moose-winchester‘s Supernatural Crack Attack Challenge. I’m gonna apologize ahead of time that there is more smut than crack, but it just...it just happened. I think I blacked out for part of it. Anyway, hopefully the cracky-ness is cracky enough!

Also, I had this amazing anonymous request: Prompty things challenge for you!! Scenario: Sam and Dean. Drinking (heavily) in the bunker. Sam pulls out weed. What do they do next? Also please include somehow, tank tops, honey, bad tv movies, whiskey, potato salad, giggling, toast, fuzzy slippers, silk, chores, falling,sleeping, and pie. :) Have fun with that!! So, scattered throughout this fic, is every single one of these things. I’m sorry if you weren’t expecting a ton of porn to go with it, but I hope, if you read this, you laugh as much as I did when I was trying to figure out how to get them all in there.

This was beta’d by my beautiful twinny @pinknerdpanda and my sweet, sweet @amanda-teaches, who also helped me name this crazy thing. This was a doozy to write, and you guys helped so much. I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated it, especially while I was sick and had the fever brain.

“Shhh!”

“You shhhh! You're gonna wake her up!”

“I'm not the one theater whispering as if it's actually how real people whisper.”

I roll over, the urgent whispers outside my door waking me from the light sleep I'd managed to finally fall into.

“What do you call what you're doing? Listen, we jus’ gotta sneak in there, I'll grab it, and...and she’ll never even know.”

“W-w-what? Of course she's gonna notice!”

“Dean...listen...she's not gonna smoke it. She jus’ took it from that kid to scare him when we were interrogating him the other day, she’ll never even notice.”

“Dude, are you trying to make up for that time you smoked oregano? Ya don't have anythin’ to prove, man. Le’s just go drink some more.”

“Are you scared of Y/N? Is that it? ‘Cause I think you are.”

“S’bullshit! I ain't scared of shit.”

My door opens enough to let in a sliver of light, and I squint against the brightness. Two shadowy figures fill the doorway, jamming together as they both try to walk in at the same time.

“Can you get out of my way?”

“I was going first, you move!”

“Oh my God, you're actually the worst.”

A few mumbled curses later, Sam’s large form pops through the doorway, nearly colliding with the foot of my bed.

“Where are we even supposed to look, Sam? It could be anywhere in here.”

“I know exactly where to look.” He moves over to my dresser and pulls open the top drawer. His shoulders hunch when it squeals along the track, and I have to bite my lip to keep from giggling at the face I know he is making.

“How d’you know it's in there? You jus’ wanna go through her underwear drawer.”

“This is where she keeps secrets, Dean. And I know because I know things. I drink and I know things.”

“Okay, Tyrion, you don't even drink enough to say that. How d’you know where she keeps her secrets?”

“Tha’s my secret.”

I hear him rummaging around, the light on his phone on but not pointed at any specific place as he shifts things in the drawer, and I consider interrupting him, until I hear him gasp.

“Did you find it?” Dean’s whisper has become less of a whisper and more like a normal speaking voice.

“Umm, no, not yet. Just...gimme a minute.” I hear whatever is in his hand hit the wooden bottom of the drawer, and then the sudden violent vibrating of plastic as it reverberates through the room. “Oh, fuck.”

“What the hell, man? Turn it off!”

“I don’t know how I turned it on! Shit!”

I can’t hold it in anymore, and laugh.

“AH!” Sam screeches, and his phone flies out of his hand and nearly hits Dean in the face. “How long have you been awake?!”

I sit up and rub my eyes, blinking as Dean flips on the light, “Long enough to know you're both idiots.” I shift so my legs hang over the side of the bed, groping for my fuzzy slippers with my feet. I sigh contentedly when they slip into the soft, fuzzy material, then stand and shuffle sleepily to my dresser. Sam snorts and I give him a not so scathing glare. “What?”

“Those slippers are ridiculous.”

“You're ridiculous. And also a liar,” I accuse as I reach into my drawer and switch off the offending noise maker, “because I know you know how to turn this off.” Sam’s jaw drops and Dean looks at him with a mixture of curiosity and offense.

“What's she mean by that?”

“S’nothing, she's just...she's just playing around.” He gives a nervous laugh and I grin.

“Oh, playing around is one way you could put it.” I wink at Sam and Dean’s nose scrunches.

“I don't like what's happening.”

“You don’t have to. Now, both of you take your drunk asses back to the living room, and pour me a glass of whiskey so I can catch up to you two assholes. Go. Now.” The two of them shuffle out of the room, and I dig around in my dresser for a tank top and shorts. I grab the contraband Sam was looking for and walk down the hall and into the living room, where Sam and Dean are talking in hushed whispers.

“What are you guys whispering about?”

Dean looks up, a glint in his eyes, “We were just wondering how often you slept with no pants on.”

“At least one of you should know that answer.”

Dean gapes at Sam again, “Seriously, dude, what is she talking about?”

I grab the glass of whiskey they had obediently poured for me and throw it back, grimacing at the burn, “If you can’t figure it out by now, sweetheart, you don’t need to worry about it. Now, let’s get me caught up so we can get to what you were looking for.”

“Y/N...I don’t think that’s how you make potato salad…”

I turn around and point the wooden spoon at Sam, flinging bits of potato in his direction. He flinches and wipes a piece of rogue tuber from his cheek. “My grandmother taught me this recipe, and it has been passed down for generations.”

“One...I don’t think potato salad has existed for generations, and two, I’m pretty positive no recipe includes honey.” I look back at the bowl and frown, then back at Sam.

“I don’t have any mayonnaise. Honey’s the next best thing.”

“That sounds wrong.”

I shrug, then give another squirt of honey in the bowl, “Sweet potato salad.” I snort and Sam rolls his eyes.

“That's not how that works!”

“Not how what works?” I turn to see Dean sauntering into the kitchen, one of the joints I had taken from the kid balanced loosely between his thumb and pointer finger.

“She doesn't have mayonnaise so she used honey instead.”

“Ha! Sweet potato salad!” I giggle and he takes a drag, breathing out slowly, sending a cloud of smoke directly into Sam’s face, “If you were higher, you'd appreciate our jokes more.”

“I don't think there's enough weed in this world to make me think your jokes are funny.”

“That’s harsh, Sammy. Here, have some more. Clearly, you have not imbibed enough.” Sam snatches it from Dean and wanders off, smoke billowing behind him. “Don’t smoke all of it, Jesus!”

“It’s alright, we’ve got more.” I go back to stirring the potato salad, reaching for the paprika.

I feel him walk up behind me, barely grazing my back as he leans over to see what I’m doing. “What was that earlier?”

“What was what?”

“You know, with Sam. The whole ‘you should know how to turn off a vibrator’ thing?”

I snort again, popping a potato into my mouth, “I think you know perfectly well what that was.”

He grabs my elbow and spins me around, “Yea, but what was that?”

I lick honey from my thumb as I look up at him, “Nothing. Sometimes I like to blow off steam.”

He groans quietly, pushing me against the counter, “You can’t say things like that when you’re licking honey off your fingers.”

“I can say whatever I want whenever I'm licking honey off anything I want,” I say with a wink. I lean closer, standing on my tiptoes so that my lips are almost grazing his. “You know what I think?”

“What?” he whispers, his hand resting gently on my lower back.

“You're jealous.”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” he scoffs.

I turn back to the bowl of potato salad and grab some bowls and forks, “Omaha. Silk restraints. Magic fingers.” I look over my shoulder to find his normally tan face a bright shade of red. “One time deal, you said it yourself. ‘It'll be too weird, we were drunk.’ Do you remember saying that?”

“Well, yea-”

“Exactly. Sam and I have a casual, no strings attached arrangement. He doesn't think it's weird.”

“I'd bet he doesn't think it's casual and no strings attached.”

I roll my eyes and turn around, shoving the bowl at him, “Maybe not! But he doesn't think it's weird. And what we do is no stranger than you wearing my underwear and having me tie you up with silk ties.” He stares at me, his mouth open but silent. “I'm not high enough for this conversation. Can we please just go eat sweet potato salad and watch bad, made for TV movies?”

He nods, “Yea, sure.” He turns and walks out of the kitchen without another word.

I need more whiskey.

“What the hell did we just watch?”

“I think it was Sharknado 5.”

Dean tilts his head to look at Sam and I on the couch, “I hate both of you.”

“You didn't have to stay in here, you know.” I can feel Sam shift uncomfortably next to me and stifle a giggle. He frowns, knowing that I am taking great pleasure in teasing him.

“Yea, well, you seemed pretty sure we should all watch this movie.”

I shrug, “I thought you would enjoy it more. I mean, aren't you a fan of whatserface?”

“The blonde chick with the robot arm? Oh, hell no. Tara Reid lost her appeal after the first American Pie movie. Nope, gross. Although I will say, the Hoff being able to function after that cheeseburger video is pretty impressive.”

I let my hand creep up Sam’s leg and stop at his thigh. He clears his throat, “Well, I think it's time to, uh, go to bed.” He shifts, but stays seated, his obvious need to be somewhere else thwarted by his even more obvious reason as to why.

“Yea,” I agree, my hand slipping even further, gently palming him through his jeans, “it's time we go to bed I think.” I grab the whiskey bottle with my unoccupied hand and relinquish my hold on Sam as I stand up. “One for the road?”

Dean stands up and stretches, his shirt pulling up to show off a little span of tan skin and fine hair trailing from his belly button to just under the edge of his jeans. I can feel the heat crawling up my cheeks as I stare, and he chuckles.

“You done?”

I clear my throat, “Quite.” I hold out the bottle to him and he shakes his head.

“Nah, I think I'm gonna cut myself off this time. You okay to get to bed?”

I nod, “Yea, yea, I'm good. I am gooood.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “Alright. G’night, guys.” He stumbles away, turning the corner and disappearing into the dark hallway.

“You are the worst.” I look over to see Sam stand up, the reason for his discomfort obvious as I stare at his bulge. I take a giant swig of whiskey, and sway a little as I look up at him.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I dunno, fondling me and then immediately checking out my brother is on the list, I think.” He steps closer, towering over me as he tries not to smile.

“You aren't mad?”

“Nah, I guess not. You aren't my girl, anyway.”

“I’m...I’m not?”

“I heard you talking to Dean. Just a casual way to blow off steam?”

I duck my head, “I...you...I'm sorry…”

He tucks his knuckle under my chin and forces me to look up at him, “I didn't say anything to tell you otherwise. No need to be sorry.” He drops his hand and it lands on my hip, his thumb rubbing the exposed skin between my tank top and the elastic band of my shorts. “You can do whatever you want, I just hope I'm allowed to be in on it every once in awhile.”

“Can we do whatever I want right now?”

Instead of answering, he dips down, his lips crushing mine as he pulls me into him. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and he practically crushes me in his arms. His tongue traces the crease of my lips, gently parting them so that we can explore each other. This isn't the first time this has happened, but something seems different. It's more desperate, like there's something more to lose if we go through with it this time.

“Sam…” his lips move down my neck, sucking and leaving marks as his hands move down to grasp my ass. His mouth moves back up, nipping at my earlobe, and I gasp as his voice, deep and rough from the alcohol, rumbles against my ear.

“Did you want to do something else?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

I press myself against his denim clad bulge, wiggling my hips and making him moan, “What do you think?”

Suddenly, my feet aren't on the floor anymore and I squeal, wrapping my arms around Sam’s neck and my legs around his waist as he strides quickly through the bunker. I take the opportunity and begin running my fingers through his hair, kissing along his neck and along his jaw. He stops suddenly, pushing me against the wall and holding me there, “If you don't stop, we aren't going to make it to my room.”

I grab the hem of my shirt, balancing against him as I pull it off and toss it to the floor. The look in his eyes changes; the playful glint is replaced with dark lust. His hand snakes between us, rubbing against my clothed mound as he kisses me again, all teeth and tongue and quiet moans.

“We should...we should go to your room now,” I manage to moan out, my hips thrusting to meet his hand.

“You mean, you don't want me to fuck you in the hallway? Afraid Dean might see?” I let out an involuntary whimper; the thought of Dean catching us is more appealing than worrisome. “Not afraid...you sound like you want him to catch me fucking you out in the open.” If my panties weren't wet before, they're absolutely soaked now.

He pulls back to look at me, his eyes narrowed as he contemplates what he wants to do. “I could eat you out right here, but if he caught us, maybe I'd have to share.” His hand slips up the leg of my shorts, and under the elastic of my underwear. I gasp as one of his thick digits pushes inside of me and he begins moving it slowly. “On the other hand, if the thought of that gets you so turned on-”

“Just take me to your room, Sam. Please…” my voice is barely above a whisper, but he smiles at how wrecked I sound. He isn't wrong; the last few times this happened, it was sweeter, gentler. I don't know if it's the alcohol or the weed, or a combination of the two, but this...I don't have words for this.

Then he starts walking, and it's then I realize that his hand is still in my shorts, and he's still pushing and pulling, in and out, every step he takes adding to the thrust of his hand. My arms wrap tightly around his neck and the thought occurs to me that not only is he strong enough to hold me up with one arm, he's also coordinated enough to keep fingering me while high and walking down the hallway. Add that to the list of things I didn't realize was such a turn on. A drawn out moan escapes me and he chuckles, a low, throaty laugh. “We aren't going to make it past Dean’s room if you do that.”

Then he stops, dead in the hallway. Fuck.

“What...what are you doing?” Dean’s door is closed, and Sam’s eyes are trained on it like a beacon. Without a word he turns so that my back is towards it. “Sam…”

He pulls his hand from my shorts, then rips them off in one fluid motion. I hear his belt clinking and can feel his knuckles brush against me as he undoes his pants, shimmying them down so he can kick them off. He pushes me against the door and the wood is rough against my bare back.

“I’m going to give you what you want.” I gasp as he nudges my entrance, “But you have to be quiet.”

“I don't think-”

“Oh, you will,” he practically growls as he pushes further into me, “because I don't think I'm ready to share just yet.”

I bite my lip to keep from crying out as he bottoms out, my eyes wide. He takes a deep breath, as if he's trying to control himself, then slowly begins to thrust again. He switches which arm is holding me up and puts his free hand on the door to steady himself. Just the sound of his heavy breathing is almost too much paired with his slow, dragging pace and I clutch at his shoulders, my head falling back against the door with a quiet thud. I flinch, but Sam doesn't seem to notice as he ducks his head down to kiss along my collarbone, nipping and sucking his way along my neck and up to my jaw.

His lips drag along the shell of my ear, his breath hot as he whispers, “Do you think Dean knows we’re out here?” He pulls out almost all the way, “Do you think he is picturing what you look like while I fuck you?” He punctuates his question by slamming back into me, pushing against the door so it doesn't rattle in the frame. I can't answer, afraid that if I do, I'll be too loud. “You aren't answering. Do you think he knows,” he pulls out again, “that I'm fucking you,” he slams back in, grunting quietly into my shoulder, “right against his door?”

I can feel the coil tightening, his motions and the picture he's painting pushing me closer and closer to the edge. “I...I don't...maybe…” I can't form a coherent sentence, not the way he’s dragging in and out of me, and my head drops forward, resting against the soft flannel shirt he's still wearing.

“If he does know, if he can hear us,” another deliciously slow thrust, “I'd bet he’s getting off to it. Imagining what you look like, how you bite your lip, how it feels to be surrounded by your warmth. I know I've thought about it more than once, spilling over my fist in the shower…”

That's all it took. The fire deep in my belly bursts into flame, consuming me as the coil snaps. My teeth sink into Sam’s shoulder, hoping that his shirt is thick enough to muffle the loud cry that is involuntarily leaving me. His thrusts quicken, but his hips start to stutter and I hold onto him, riding him through his own release as he groans out my name.

He pulls back and looks at me, sweat trickling down his temple and towards his neck, and smiles.

“You are the worst,” I giggle whisper, and he shrugs.

“You like it.” He starts walking towards his room and I start laughing.

“Sam, put me down! You're leaving my clothes!”

He keeps walking, his grip tighter so I can't wiggle free, “I'm not finished with you yet.” He kicks the door open to his room, then shuts it with his hip. “You can get your clothes later. You won't be needing them for awhile.”

I can't say I'm unhappy about this turn of events.

I wake up, my throat dry and my body aching for some sort of refreshment. I slide out from under Sam’s arm, and grab his shirt off the back of the chair where it had landed earlier. He groans and rolls over, and I stare at him for a moment, taking in his long form as it stretches the full length of the bed.

I sneak out and leave the door cracked behind me, then turn towards the kitchen. Before I can take a step, a hand covers my mouth and I end up pressed against the wall. I have somehow managed to forget everything I know about self defense in my half asleep state, and only manage to weakly slap at the arm holding me against the wall.

“Shh, it's me!” The hand disappears from my mouth, and I glare at my would be assailant.

“Dean, what the hell?!” I give him a playful shove and he grins, his moss green eyes glinting in the low light of the hall.

“What are you doing up?”

“I could ask the same of you! I’m thirsty, I'm getting a drink.”

He shrugs, “I’m hungry, thought I'd get a snack.”

“Oh, well, then we can go together.” Suddenly, he's standing far too close, and I realize how little clothing I'm wearing.

“Not exactly the kind of snack I was thinking about.”

“W-w-what do you mean?”

He takes another step, and his body presses against mine, “I think you know exactly what I mean.” He fingers the buttons on Sam’s shirt, his eyes roving from my face to where it's hanging open down to the third button. “You expect to just fuck right outside my door and not expect consequences? Seriously?”

“We thought you were asleep!” I rush out, panicked.

“I'm gonna stop you right there. Sammy knew damn well I wasn't asleep, and, even if I was, do you really think you were being that quiet?” His hand slips under the soft fabric and he squeezes my breast, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “I could hear every little moan and whimper that was coming out of you. Not like I haven't before, but knowing you were just on the other side of that door…” he trails off and brings his gaze back up to meet mine.

“Listen-”

“I get it, you and Sam. I'm not blind, I can tell. But I also know neither of you have done anything about it, and I owe Sammy some payback.” He leans down and wraps his lips around my nipple and I can't help but groan; his tongue is sinful, and he hasn't even done anything yet. His tongue swirls around the pebbled skin, and I can feel goosebumps run down my arms and legs. He lets go with a quiet pop, and puts his forehead against mine. “You've gotta be quiet, that's the rules.”

“Then how’s Sam gonna know?” I draw a sharp breath as Dean’s hand wanders under the hem of my shirt, his fingertips brushing along my wet entrance like a feather.

“Oh, he’ll know.” His fingers move up and down, the rough pads gentle against my sensitive skin. With each pass, they move a little deeper, but then he pulls back, his thumb barely grazing my clit as he plays, his forehead still pressed against mine.

“Dean…” We shouldn't do it...but he's right. And honestly, the way his fingers feel against me right now, common sense isn't playing a part. “Please…” He slips one finger inside, curling and twisting it while he pushes in and out, and suddenly his mouth is on mine, swallowing the moan I can't hold back.

He tastes like whiskey, and his five o’clock shadow is rough against my face. It's one of those delicious burns, and I open my mouth for him, our tongues meeting as he explores. It's different than kissing Sam, almost softer, but there's a hidden edge I can't quite put my finger on. I nip at his bottom lip, and it's his turn to groan into me. He pulls away and smirks, then drops to his knees in front of me.

“What are you doing?”

He raises a brow as he looks up at me, “Do I really need to answer that question?” Both hands are under my shirt now, and he pushes my legs further apart. He ducks under my shirt, and I cry out as his tongue drags along my folds, working in tandem with his fingers as he adds another one. “I said,” he mutters against me, sending vibrations to my core, “you've gotta be quiet.”

I drop my head back against the wall, my chest heaving. He laps at me, making happy little grunting sounds as he moves. I can already feel the warmth building in my belly, and I bury my fingers in Dean’s hair. “I'm not gonna last much longer, Dean,” I whimper. He lifts one of my legs and puts it over his shoulder, and the change of angle nearly pushes me over right then. He sucks my clit into his mouth, his fingers pistoning in and out, and then suddenly the world goes black. He doesn't stop, and I tighten my grip on his hair, riding his face as a second orgasm rips through me.

I finally relinquish my hold on him and he drops my leg, standing up so that he's still up against me. I'm pretty sure it's the only reason I'm able to still be upright.

“You alright?”

I nod weakly, “I would say I'm more than alright.”

“Good.” He backs up and I walk to Sam’s door.

“So you're okay with-” my thought is interrupted when I see Sam, sitting up in bed, the blankets pooled around his waist. “Sam? Did you hear…?”

He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and his muscles ripple down his back as he shifts. He stands up, and it's very obvious that he heard us. “What do you think?” He walks closer to me, seemingly oblivious to Dean standing right behind me, “One Winchester not enough?”

“Listen, man, it's my fault. It wasn't her idea-”

Sam’s gaze shifts from me to Dean, and the older Winchester, in a surprising turn of events, stops talking. “It's alright, if that's what she wants…” He reaches out, his fingertips brushing the buttons like Dean’s had done only moments before, “Is that what you want? Both of us?”

What is happening? “I...I don't know…” My mind may not know the answer, but my dripping cunt does. I squeeze my legs together, trying to find some sort of friction, and Sam notices the movement.

“I think you do know.” He fingers the buttons some more, as if contemplating what he should do with this information, then slowly begins to pop them open. He slides the shirt apart enough so that just a small part of my breasts peek through, and my mind is racing. The look on his face, the slow, calculated movements...it's Sam, but it's not, and for some reason it's one of the hottest things I've ever seen.

He looks back to Dean, his expression softer than earlier, and, though I can't see his brother’s face, I know they're doing that silent conversation thing reserved only for those close enough to understand it. He nods, then looks back at me, the corner of his mouth turned up. His hand traces up the edge of the shirt, his fingers slipping under it at the shoulder. He carefully slides it off, pushing it down my arm, and his other hand repeats the motion on the other side. The shirt slips off and hits the floor, and he takes another step towards me. I can feel his arousal pressing against my stomach.

Suddenly, his lips are on mine, desperate and hot. There's no gentle exploration this time; his tongue pushes its way against mine hungrily, and his large hands grip my bare ass, pulling me roughly into him. He bites at my lip, pulling gently before letting go and traveling lower, planting sloppy kisses along my jaw and down my throat. He spins me around so that my back is against him, one of his hands roughly cupping a breast while the other travels between my legs, spreading me apart as Dean watches.

“You're already so wet, Y/N...wet, and warm, and tight.” Dean gives a strangled groan as we lock eyes and Sam plunges inside of me, two fingers moving in and out as his thumb rubs my clit. “What do you think? Should we let Dean in on this, too? Say the word, and we won't. It's up to you.”

I can't think, not with his rough fingers dragging in and out, and the obscene noises they’re making as he continues his ministrations. “Y-yes…” my wrecked voice is quiet, but they both hear me. Sam walks backwards with me as Dean follows, needlessly shutting the door behind him.

He turns so that I'm facing the bed and he pulls himself free. I look over my shoulder in time to see him lick his fingers clean, slowly and deliberately, and my mouth drops open; this is a Sam I've never seen, and I can't say I wouldn't like to see him again.

He steps out of my line of sight, and I feel a different set of hands running down my back, gripping my hips before traveling to the globes of my ass. He turns me to face him and Dean’s eyes are dark with lust. “How do you feel about me going first, sweetheart?”

I finally find my voice as I grab his belt buckle, “I think you're wearing too many clothes.” I make quick work of it, and, as he shimmies his jeans down his legs, pulling his boxers with them, it seems like everything is going in slow motion. This is going to change things, major things, and I'm left wondering if any of us are ready for it. Then Dean is pulling off his shirt, tossing it to the side, and suddenly the moment is over and I feel everything ten fold.

Dean gives me a gentle push backwards and the backs of my legs hit the bed. I plop gently onto it and shimmy backwards as he stalks towards me, like I'm some kind of prey. He grabs my ankles, smooths his hands up my calves and up to my knees, then pulls my legs apart. His fingers trail up my thighs, brush past my aching core, and move up to hips as he positions himself between my open legs.

“I think it's time we get to the main show, don't you?” he asks with a smile, and I can feel him, hot and heavy, against the inside of my thigh. He reaches down and strokes himself a couple of times, then slowly eases in.

I gasp, and, though he's not quite as big as Sam, it's still enough to burn as I adjust to his size. “Oh...Dean…”

Despite being filled by Dean, I still can't help but wonder where Sam is. I roll my head to the side and find him sitting in his desk chair, legs sprawled and dick in hand as he watches, his eyes narrowed as he focuses on me. Dean starts to move, slow but deep thrusts that pull my attention back to him. “How's that feel, huh? Feel good?”

“Mmhmm...so good.” He looks down at me, his bottom lip between his teeth as he moves, and I would give him anything in that moment. Absolutely anything. I grab the backs of my thighs and pull my knees closer to my chest, and he goes even deeper.

“Oh fuck, Y/N, you're gonna kill me…” he moves my hands out of the way, replacing them with his own, and pushes, spreading my legs further apart as he bears down.

I roll my head again to look at Sam and see that he's mesmerized by the way my tits are bouncing, stroking himself in time to every move. I reach up and start plucking at my nipple, grabbing a fistful of tit as I roll my stiff bud between my fingers. When he finally looks up and meets my eye, a look is all it takes.

He quickly moves from the chair to the bed, kneeling on the floor by my head. Despite his roughness earlier, he smooths the hair from my face, kissing me deeply and swallowing the moans coming out of me as Dean continues to thrust, then moves down and captures my nipple in his mouth.

“Sam...fuck…” He bites gently, flicking his tongue in time with Dean, while still stroking himself. “Dean...I need...can you…” I can't form a coherent sentence, not with both of them touching me, but he seems to understand.

“Flip over, sweetheart,” he pulls out and lets my legs drop, and I roll over onto my belly. He grabs my hips and yanks my ass up, teasing my entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Dean, please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me, and quit teasing.”

He laughs, and I nearly come the moment he slams back into me. He's not as gentle this time around, picking up speed as he nears his own climax. I look at Sam and lick my lips, and he understands immediately what I want. He stands up, dick eye level, and I wrap my lips around him. Each thrust Dean gives causes my mouth to go further down his shaft, and he groans when he feels himself hit the back of my throat.

He grabs a handful of hair and begins practically fucking my face, and for a moment all you can hear is the pornographic sounds of skin slapping skin, muffled moans, and the wet sucking of my cunt swallowing Dean’s dick.

“I'm gonna come, Y/N,” Dean grinds out, his rhythm faltering as he gets closer. Sam pulls away from my mouth and steps back, and I look over my shoulder at him. “Come with me, I wanna feel it.” He reaches around and starts rubbing my clit, and I start pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts with my own.

“I'm so close, Dean, please...don't stop…” He slams into me two more times and I'm done for. I come, hard, and Dean grabs my hair as he spills inside of me, growling and cursing under his breath. He pulls out slowly, and I collapse onto the bed, unable to hold myself up anymore.

I feel the bed shift as Dean stands up, and then again when Sam slides in next to me. I open my eyes to see him looking at me, his hazel eyes like sunflowers. I smile and he tilts his head.

“What?”

I shrug, “Just...you have really pretty eyes.”

Sam smiles back, a genuine smile that I rarely get to see, “I think we've sexed you into madness.”

I shake my head, “Not possible. I've still got at least one more in me.”

His hand slides across my thigh, and he dips a finger along my folds. “As wet as you are, I'm not sure there's enough friction for you to even enjoy it,” he says with a laugh, pressing his thumb to my clit.

I arch my back and close my eyes as his thumb makes lazy circles, “You'd be surprised.”

He props himself up on his elbow, looking down as his hand teases my entrance, a finger dipping in and back out, tickling my clit and moving down. I open my eyes to see Dean walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Uh, well, I thought my part here was done, so I was just gonna go back to my room.”

“I want you to watch.”

“What?”

I wiggle my hips against Sam’s hand and sigh, “You heard me.”

“Okay, then.” He moves to the seat Sam was just occupying and sits down. Sam settles in on the other side of me so I can see Dean and continues what he was doing. Dean watches with hooded eyes, and I roll my head so that I can see him better. Despite just getting off, he's already half hard again.

Sam slips a finger inside me, and I groan, never losing eye contact with Dean. His cock twitches and I can tell he wants to touch himself. I nod, and his hand wraps around his dick. Sam adds another finger and I can't concentrate on Dean, all I can feel are his two large digits pumping in and out of my wet cunt.

“Sam, that feels so good,” I mewl, breath catching at how full I feel. “Lay on your back.”

“You sure?”

I nod, and he rolls over so that he's laying on his back instead of his side. I reach down and stroke him, though he doesn't need much help at this point. I plant a knee on either side of him, then line him up and sink down. I take a minute to adjust to his size.

“Oh my God, Y/N. You feel so fucking good.”

I laugh as I begin to rock back and forth, “We just did it a little bit ago!”

“I don't think I'm ever going to get used to how amazing you feel. Fuck…” I add some bounce to my gyrations, and glance at Dean, who is watching my every move as he strokes himself. Sam's hands grip my hips and I know there will be bruises in the morning; in all honesty, I kind of hope there are.

“Shit...Sam, I need more, please.”

He plants his feet on the mattress and begins fucking into me as hard as he can. I lean back on my palms, aching for a final release. Dean is watching me hungrily, his eyes on my tits as the bounce with each thrust. Must be a Winchester thing.

“C’mere, Dean,” I pant out as Sam’s thumb finds my clit again. “You're almost there, aren't you?”

“Fuck...yea…” he walks over to stand next to me, and I suck him into my mouth, twirling my tongue around his head as Sam pounds into me. Dean buries his hand in my hair, grips it as I move, and it's like Sam can't stand the thought of sharing me. He moves faster, lifting me almost off his cock before slamming me back down on it. I add a hand to work with my mouth and Dean cries out, a strangled moan as he comes in my mouth, hot and thick. “Holy shit.” His voice is wrecked, but I don't have time to respond. The build up I've been feeling finally hits the edge of the cliff and I'm about to fall off of it.

“Sam, I'm so close…ohhh, I'm going to...I'm coming, Sam!” My legs tighten against him and I clench around him as he also comes, milking him of every last drop. After the high of it wears off, I roll off of Sam, sighing at the sudden emptiness of him pulling out. He puts his arms around me, and though he's like a furnace, I can't help but hold onto him.

Dean sits on the edge of the bed, “Well...that just happened.”

I smile sleepily, nuzzling into Sam’s side, “Yea, it sure did.”

“Are you okay?”

I nod, “I'm not sure my legs work anymore, but who needs legs?” Both of them laugh, and it gives me hope that tomorrow won't be weird.

“We can always carry you around.”

“Mmmhmm…”

And then I'm asleep, lulled into sweet dreams against Sam’s solid form and the sound of the two brothers quietly talking.

I wake up to Sam’s large body curled around mine, his hand cupping my breast gently as he sleeps. I smile, happy to wake up with him beside me, then look around to find the room is empty besides us; Dean is gone. I carefully slip out of Sam’s grasp, and take a shirt from his dresser. As I'm slipping it on, I trip over one of his boots and hit the floor. I curse under my breath and wait for him to ask if I'm okay, but he is still passed out. Surprising, for a hunter, but after last night, not unexpected. I gather myself and limp out of the room, making a mental note to make a place just for shoes.

The bunker is quiet, and the kitchen is empty when I get to it. I shuffle around, regretting not wearing my fuzzy slippers, and put the coffee on. I pull out the toaster and toss a couple of pieces of bread in, then lean against the counter and wait for both things to finish.

“I smell coffee.” I look up to see Dean in the doorway, hair sticking every which way and eyes half closed.

“You do. Do you want toast to go with it?”

“Pie. I want pie.”

I laugh and nod my head towards the fridge, “There's still some apple in there, have at it.” He makes a happy grunt and detours towards the fridge. I pour a cup of coffee for both of us, butter my toast, and move over to the table to eat. Dean sits down in front of me and proceeds to eat the pie straight from the pan.

“Dean, listen-”

“I know, I should have gotten a plate, but I'm hungry and it's my turn to do the dishes so I don't really want to-”

“No, that's fine, I don't…I don't care about that. I meant about last night.”

“Oh. Yea, right.”

“It was great.”

“Yea, it was.”

“But…” I stir my coffee again, staring at the way the creamer swirls in the darkness of the bitter liquid, “it can't…we can't do that again.”

“Mmm.”

“It's just, it’s Sam, Dean. It's always been Sam. And I love you, I do, and you are good, but it just...it can't happen, okay?”

He sits quietly for a moment, and the euphoria I felt last night is gone. It should have never happened; the major change is coming right now. Not later, now, and I'm not ready for it. Then he looks up and smiles.

“I know it's Sammy. You two have been dancing around it for ages. I get it. Can't say I regret last night, but I understand.” He picks my hand off the table and brings it to his lips, kissing the top of it gently, “You're an amazing woman, and you and Sam...shit, you guys are perfect. I also can't say I'm not a little jealous, but I'll get over it. You deserve each other, you know?”

We’re interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Sam is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as Dean drops my hand like it's burnt him.

“I, uh...I gotta go.” He stands up to leave then grabs the plate of pie, “I'm just going to take this with me. And then it's my turn to do dishes and laundry so, uhhh, if you need me, I'll be doing chores. For the rest of my life.” He disappears around the corner and Sam walks over to the coffee pot.

“Sam…”

“What?” He pours a cup of coffee, then leans against the counter as he drinks it.

“About last night-”

“Yea, I get it. Can't happen again. It's fine.”

“Sure, but that's not exactly what I was going to say.”

He sits his mug down a little too forcefully, then crosses his arms across his chest, “Listen, it's fine. When I woke up and you were gone, I knew. I'm not surprised that Dean got the girl, I just figured after last night-”

“Are you jealous?” I ask with a nervous laugh, and he frowns.

“You aren't my girl, so there's not really any reason to be jealous, right?”

I stand up from the table and walk up to him, putting my hands on his crossed arms. “What if I want to be your girl, though?”

His expression softens, “Do you?”

“Of course! I told Dean that as much fun as last night was, you are the one I want to be with. I love Dean, but not like that. You're the one I want to be with.”

“Really?”

I nod, “Really.”

He pulls me into him, wrapping himself around me and I sigh happily. He kisses the top of my head, and I smile up at him.

Maybe this isn't going to be so complicated after all.

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? Check out my master list HERE.

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites @justanotherdeangirl @smalltowndivaj @captainradicalpassion @myloveforyouxx @atc74 @mrsbatesmotel53 @there-must-be-a-lock @masksandtruths @thelittleredwhocould @jotink78 @amanda-teaches @ilsawasanacrobat @squirrel-moose-winchester @mjdoc90 @anticipate1003 @mrswhozeewhatsis @mogaruke @speakinvain @linki-locks11 @wildlandfox @rhochradel @lostnliterature @eternal-elir @spn-ficfanatic @polina-93 @lexiiiii28 @poukothenerd @emoryhemsworth @yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend @adoptdontshoppets

Dean Only: @akshi8278 @valkyrieslament @lavieenlex @highonpastries @wholelottajackles @imascio08

Sam Only: @bunnybaby121115

#Smut Appreciate Day 2018 #Supernatural Crack Attack Challenge #SPNCrackAttackChallenge #SPNCAC #smut #so much smut #sam x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader x dean #reader insert

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justanothersadgirl95-blog · 5 years

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Medical marijuana advocacy

First Tumblr post!

I created this account so I can voice what I need to without the inevitable backlash from family and peers.

Weed is a strange subject right now. It's sort of legal, but sort of not. Sort of criminal, maybe kind of decriminalized. It's still taboo even though a huge number of people use it. It's still frowned upon by mother's (mine haha), employers, law enforcement.

Hi, I'm Alex and I'm a pot head. I first smoked weed out of a tobacco pipe on a highway overpass, on a hot summer evening when I was supposed to be at a church fair down the street, when I was approximately 14 years old and the rest is history. Now I am a 24 year old functioning member of society. I'm a wife and mom of two incredible and intelligent kids. I go to work when I'm supposed to (mostly), I pay my bills and my taxes and I (sort of) uphold traffic laws.

I also smoke cannabis whenever I am conscious. I doubt that anyone knows the difference between sober and stoned me anymore. I enjoy it. I use it as a crutch for my clinical and sometimes debilitating depression. I use it when I get headaches or migraines, a stomach bug, unnecessary family drama, tired, awake, hard day at work, celebrating, you name it.

At the end of the day, I do not care what the laws are. I should but I don't. In my state, medical marijuana is legal, recreational is illegal, but has been decriminalized so I think all you will get is a fine if caught with it. I advocate for medical marijuana to be fully accessable as needed for many ailments, mainly centered towards cancer patients.

A few weeks ago I sat in a waiting room after a follow up appointment with my oncologist. I'm still clear, in case you are wondering. I sat there with my husband staring at a TV screen with a health information slide show playing. Eventually it came to a slide concerning nausea after treatment. And all the "suggestions" were Bull. Shit. Different foods to try, exercise, medication. I lol'd. Because let me tell you guys, after a few hours of sitting in a chair with an IV in your chest receiving chemotherapy nicknamed "red death" (due to its bright red color before injection, when you pee it out, and simply because the side effects SUCK,) you don't want to eat, you cannot exercise, and you've already pumped every kind of pharmaceutical into your body desperately trying to relieve the sickness.

When I was 18 years old, freshly graduated from high school with a 6 month old on my hip, I was diagnosed with cancer. My mom was super proactive and got the ball rolling immediately. Just the year before, I saw my father die from cancer. I thought I had some preparation for how I'd feel after treatment. I was wrong.

The first treatment, I cried when they inserted the giant needle into the medi port in my chest. More because I was scared than because of pain. They told me I probably wouldn't feel any side effects until the next day so I finished the treatment a little dazed, but continued on to the grocery store with my mom. We tried to buy food for when I got hungry. I started feeling the weight of the world on me. A feeling I can only describe as poison taking over your body. Nausea. Oh the nausea. I went home and slept for two to three days. Only opening my eyes for water and medication. It. Was. Torture. Id never felt so bad in my life. I never imagined feeling so bad. Ever. And when I finally woke up, I looked my mom in the eyes and told her I couldn't do this. So told me I had to.

So off to the next treatment I went two weeks later (every other week.) This time we added additional nausea medications to my IV before treatment. Same results. I was asleep for a few days. When I finally woke up, my husband (fiance at the time) suggested we go search for food I'd be able to stomach. We drove off, he pulled out a blunt for me to smoke, I was scared to try it, feeling as awful as I did. But then the nausea started to lessen. I wasn't in such a "brain fog". I. Was. Hungry. AND I was able to eat and keep down just about anything I wanted. I was amazed. I was thankful. I was going to get through this.

So the next appointment, my husband took me. He held my hand during treatment, packed me into the car afterwards, drove off and again, handed me a blunt. And again, I felt okay. I felt.. definitely better since the last round. After that, I smoked weed as needed. Which was frequently. The chemo was Hell. But instead of being in a coma for three days, then days of sickness afterwards just trying to recover, I would bunker down for two to three days, use the pot as needed and THEN I WAS ABLE TO GO ABOUT MY LIFE FOR THE NEXT WEEK AND A HALF UNTIL THE NEXT TREATMENT. I mean, holy shit. It was like night and day, the difference cannabis made during all of that.

This stuff is the reason I made it. This stuff is the reason I was able to function like I did. I was able to be a mom and a daughter and a partner. I was able to live.

And then I realized that this shit, weed, ganja, pot, cannabis, MJ, the devil's lettuce, is not available to every cancer patient out there. There are still states where this is illegal.

Wait until you read what I am about to type next.

Because of lack of education and the unfortunate stigma against marijuana use, people who really need this shit, people going through chemotherapy, do not have regular and full access it. Everywhere.

It's insane really. Something so simple, easily grown, can make such a difference. THIS is what should be playing on the slide shows in the cancer centers. This is what we should be educating our family and friends on when they get sick. This, marijuana, is hope when there doesn't seem to be any.

Be open minded. Educate yourself. Pass it along. You never know who it could help.

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kinetic-elaboration · 5 years

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February 5: Thoughts on The 100 2x03 Reapercussions

I am very tired and I should sleep but instead I’m going to bring my The 100 rewatch project out of hiatus yet again with Episode 2x03: Reapercussions.

I miss Anya so much!!!!! This is mostly my Dichen Lachman obsession showing but also the way she gives Clarke that ‘yeah, whatever’ look when Clarke says she’ll get her out of the cage... your Grounder fave could never.

The show honestly peaked with S2 and after this it should have abandoned all attempts at edginess because nothing will ever be more Pure Nightmare Fuel than the Mount Weather Grounder Cages.

Clarke/Anya: the ship that almost was.

So when Clarke takes Anya out of the prison room, she opens a door that says “End Containment Area” and underneath that it says “U.S. Department of Homeland Security, Mount Weather Containment Protocol.” And people really thought JRoth made this up omg learn some history.

Considering how they left things (Anya literally trying to kill her and all her friends) it’s actually pretty impressively selfless and magnanimous on Clarke’s part to not just rescue her, but immediately and unthinkably rescue her. On the other hand, Anya feels some remorse for leaving her people whereas Clarke’s like ‘here are some clothes [even though those random bandages are holding up pretty well??], let’s get a move on!’ (I know she intended to come back for them and she was being smart and practical but from the pov of, say, Jasper or Monty, this is cold as hell of her.)

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: early S2 Clarke is Peak Clarke: smart, sly, practical, brave.

Byrne mentions Earth Skills teacher “Davis” as being part of the search team for Bell et. al. My question: how many Earth Skills teachers did they have lol?

I fucking love this crashed-ship aesthetic omg I forget how much I love it and then I see it again....

“On the Ark, you did anything you wanted, without a second thought about the consequences.” Like mother, like daughter.

I ALSO miss Jasper and Maya. I’m probably like the lone person out there who still remembers them fondly but they were basically perfect because they were sweet but with the potential for a lot of darkness as well, my favorite combination.

WHERE’S MY ART SCHOOL JAYA AU?

So actually fun fact, that isn’t how the art work would have been stored in Mount Weather. They had special containers for the paintings to protect them and like a special cart thing to transport them quickly from their old homes to the bunker I read a book.

No one ever characterizes him this way sufficiently imo but Monty is really quite uptight in a way. Like first: don’t cockblock him man. And second: just chilll. This is probably why he used to smoke weed.

“Trouble? It’s Clarke. Whatever she’s up to, I’m sure she can handle it.” I mean.... he’s not wrong.

Except for the part where she’s covered in dead bodies. But even then...

So I always felt like the main point of the Reapers was as kind of a zombie police force for Mount Weather: to keep the Grounders scared of the Mountain, so they won’t poke around in it too much. Though of course they also collect Grounders, which is helpful, since the Mountain Men can’t walk that far from their home base (and, as stated, they probably want to keep most of that area Grounder-free anyway). But it occurs to me now that a third use of the Reapers is like dead-body collectors? The Mountain dumps the dead bodies out the trap door, and the Reapers take them away and eat them. So gross and efficient all at once. Mount Weather’s motto basically.

Murphy and his creating-a-distraction stones are still one of the funniest jokes this show has ever pulled, though if it were a quicker reveal after “something like that” it would be funnier.

Never mind, Bellamy appearing out of the bush is true underrated comedy gold,

That said, I feel like everything outside of the Mount Weather and Clarke stories here is filler.

Love! That! Ship!

Major Byrne says that Kane is on the verge of losing control of the camp but... I dunno.... everyone seems to be working together pretty well? Maybe if they had diversified the cast a little, not in terms of yet more Grounders but, like, non-leaders of the Ark, that would be more clear????

Okay, well, admittedly, when the Grounder prisoner is brought in they do start a mini-mob, lol. Also one of the delinquent’s fathers is shot, it would be cool if we knew who he was?? ETA: and then he dies and Abby’s like “does he have any family?” lol he just said that his son was one of the 100 so like obviously he does??

The costuming people, like the set people, really are the geniuses of this show. I love Clarke and Anya’s outfits, and Clarke’s hair somehow being both grungy and beautiful like THAT’s the apocalypse style I wanna see.

Also they absolutely 100% would have gotten together in the S2-S3 hiatus if Anya hadn’t been killed off.

“You saved my life because you needed me” IS true but she also did it absolutely without hesitation, even knowing Anya really quite truly hates her, so this speaks either to some foolhardy bravery mixed in with her practical thoughts, or just straight compassion, or both. I guess that sort of is a Clarke thing. She can be a grudge holder (seriously don’t tell me she isn’t: Wells????) but her grudges are NEVER more important than hard-nosed practical problem-solving.

Time for some gratuitous torture. Honestly, I like Season 2, it’s probably my favorite season, but it has some MAJOR filler problems. Like when it’s good it’s THE BEST but then other times it just doesn’t know how to fill 40 minutes so it resorts to pointless diversions (like Bellamy rappelling down the side of a mountain to save a character who is literally never seen again? for some reason?) or just straight out ugly violence for screaming’s sake (Raven’s surgery, Raven’s Grounder torture, Abby’s shocklashing, etc.) Like honestly I can’t even watch this. I’m just gonna browse tumblr until it’s done.

The Arkers really like the concept of “confessing” don’t they?

Like okay I’m not done WHAT IS THE POINT of this? It all but kills the whole Kabby vibe (I still lowkey ship them but sometimes I think...why?), it’s truly painful to watch, and it has no plot purpose AT ALL not even world-building because, lol, we know the writers don’t care to flesh out Camp Jaha in any real way.

Murphy is taking such sad glee out of instigating Finn’s madness/violence. The Luci of The 100 for sure.

This Bellamy story line is boring though I’m sorry. Some of these scenes (the Clarke or Mount Weather ones) I could watch a million times but this is like... kay, I know what happens already. So.

“There are some lines you can’t uncross.” I mean I think this show has actually shown that’s pretty untrue since people get over almost everything pretty fast. There’s always another horrific thing to do and/or experience!

Yeah my bitterness is seeping in.

Anyway when you come into an interrogation knowing what the “right” answer is, you’ll never learn anything, take note, stupid teenager boys + U.S. law enforcement.

Like honestly this Grounder is 500000x smarter than they are. He saves himself and rains gunfire and destruction upon his enemies. (Well, saves himself for a few minutes--but at least he got to cause harm to those he hates!)

“You thought I was the crazy one, huh?” Was Murphy ever crazy, though, or was he just coldly vengeful?

Speaking of coldly vengeful, Byrne could have been a potentially interesting character? Maybe? I’m not really into the type but as I said I want more Arkers wherever I can find them. And Kane needs real opposition. I have sympathy for him to a degree, but I also think he ultimately weakens rather than strengthens himself.

I love when Monty calls bullshit on stuff. “I can’t see Clarke? Try and fucking stop me, bitches.”

Jasper has such a big heart. Truly the emotional core of this friendship.

I like how Kane speaks as if his “diplomatic mission” of adults is so vastly different than Bellamy and Finn just going off on their own I mean, Byrne is little better than Finn? They’re both easily frustrated and fond of torture? It’s just that Byrne understands a chain of command--barely--that’s literally it.

How does it make literally any sense at all to shocklash a person one hour and make her the Chancellor the next? Like you’ve just encouraged the populace to think of her as nothing special, not above the embarrassing public application of extreme pain--but yes by all means expect them to fall into line behind her leadership. I mean I guess this sort of works if she was already somehow beloved (I guess I’m supposed to just believe that?) and now more sympathy has been generated for her--but such sympathy would seem to come at the expense of Kane. It would seem to be the opposite of what he, or really Byrne, was going for with that disgusting display. But whatever memory is a fiction I guess.

And they have this swelling-music romantic eye-fuck goodbye like??? He was just beating you!! JUST NOW!

What I’m getting out of Murphy advocating for killing the Grounder: first, he has a clear, cold, practicality not unlike Clarke, and two, he still thinks of the delinquents as his friends--how sweet. Two days ago he was killing them, holding them hostage, and stealing their ammo before a huge battle but still. Bygones.

This is not a great ep. for Bellamy leadership lol.

Finn executes a man, while wearing Clarke’s watch, in the place they had sex. Seems...symbolic?? IDK it’s late lol.

I miss Nyko a lot but also now that I’ve seen (part of) Slasher I’m not entirely sure I can ever see Ty Olsson in the same light.

Wouldn’t it be funny if they were literal brothers? Because I always assumed this was metaphorical but...was it? WAS IT?

Weird note to end on, I know. If patterns hold, it’ll be another 2-3 months before I do this again but I’ll try to be a little more on the ball about it.

#the year 2019 #2019: fandom thoughts #2019: the 100 s2 #the 100 #the 100 rewatch

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dyketectivecomics · 6 years

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Hello love. If you're not too swamped with prompts, could you do one with the berserkers? Specifically the troublemakers (rose, klarion, duela) trying to pull off a prank of some sort? ((On who is up to you))

Listen, Rem. I was watching a LOT of The Office recently, so I hope you enjoy some Fresh Takes & reasons behind some Classic Jim Pranks… And a little mix of members playing the Unfortunate Victims…

…

“That’s… bullshit,” Cass accused. “Precognition, super-strength ‘n speed. But you don’t have… telekinesis.”

“Who says Batman keeps perfect files anyways, Bratgirl?” Rose sneered, kicking her feet up on the table before leaning back in her seat. The epitome of nonchalance. “Besides, I never said it was as impressive or obvious as Raven’s. Just that it’s… there. Always has been.”

“If it’s not like Raven’s, then what IS it like then?” Eddie asked, leaning in interest.

“Like I said, little stuff,” Rose shrugged, “Marbles off the coffee table, pushing toys off my bed, rolling pencils on the desk.”

“Bull-shit,” Cass said again with a glare that sent a shiver up the Ravager’s spine, before pointing at the other end of the room. “Move the lamp.”

And here Rose smiled. Something she’d been carefully planning for ages, finally coming to fruition. Ultimately, it was meant to be a test to see if her metahuman predisposition allowed her to work past Cass’ abilities as a human lie detector. And it seemed like it was about to work.

She lifted one hand to her temple, her good eye’s side, while the other was poised to point at the lamp itself.

After less than a half a minute of concentration, the lamp began to sway back and forth, earning gasps from Eddie and Kon, and an extra hard glare from Cass.

After she finally acquiesced on their co-leaders undeniable telekinetic ability, the lamp stopped shaking, and Klarion walked in.

“What’d I miss?” he asked with a sly wink to Rose.

…

Duela smiled innocently up at Cassandra, remembering all too well the series of events that led to this little investigation of hers. The Berserker’s parties were notoriously wild, but had never before included the use of illicit substances.

Underage drinking? More than likely. But no one had dared to bring weed into the base. Or at least, no one had dared to bring it out into the open, and leave it in plain sight.

Rose and Raven could care less over what kind of shenanigans their team members got into, so long as they were sober in time for a mission. Which made the investigation all the more funny to Duela. Because Cass was conducting it on principle, rather than with any actual aim for dispensing justice.

She wanted to put in some detective practice. And Duela was having the time of her life fucking with the Bat.

She’d been just about to tip the scales, by asking her some simple facts about the drug in question, and counter-accusing her of being in possession.

“Marijuana is a memory loss drug,” Duela reasoned, “So how would you remember, if it was yours?”

“That’s… not how it works,” Cass insisted, shaking her head.

“How would you know how it works? Have you tried it?” the clown pressed. She could tell Cass’ patience was wearing thin.

“This is ridiculous. Answer my question-” Impatience. Anger. She had her right where she wanted her.

“No!” Duela yelled, slamming her hand into the table, “You said when I walked in that I’d be conducting the interview! So how much weed did you smoke!?”

The Bat’s jaw dropped as she attempted to stutter out an explanation, a counter-argument. And it took everything Duela had not to burst into a smile right then and there.

…

“What are you writing?” Raven asked as she sipped her morning tea. It wasn’t too unusual for Duela to be up this early in the morning, but it usually meant trouble.

Being so obviously in plain sight of the empath, however, also meant that she wouldn’t mind letting her in on that trouble, and may have been trying to ask for help, in her own crazy, roundabout way.

The clown finished a sentence before glancing up at the empath sipping her tea.

“I’ve gotten really great at mimicking everyone’s handwriting,” she began before setting the pen down, “And every so often, I send Kon messages… from his future self. You wanna know today’s message?”

“I’ll only regret not asking, so sure.”

Duela cleared her throat dramatically before reading her letter in her best impression of Superboy. “Kon, tonight at the party, someone will poison Rose’s drink. Do NOT let her drink anything tonight. ESPECIALLY the lemonade. Sincerely, Future-Kon.”

Raven nodded thoughtfully for a moment before standing from her seat. “I still owe Rose for screwing with my date last week. I’ll drop some hints to Conner that I sense something terrible happening tonight.”

The clown smiled extra wide as she folded up the letter. “Mind slipping this under his door, too? He almost caught me last time.”

…

Two birds, one stone. Such a deliciously simple way to cause chaos and disorder amongst his team members without resorting to outright mayhem. Klarion could only give himself a pat on the back. He’d really outdone himself this time. He leaned back in his seat, a perfect view of the hallway before him.

He grinned in delight as he heard frustrated groans coming from Bunker’s room. Low cursing, paper and books thudding against walls as they were thrown every way imaginable. And finally a voice echoing down the hall.

“WHOEVER THE HELL TOOK MY PENS AND PENCILS AND LEFT CRAYONS. THIS ISN’T FUNNY. I’VE GOT HOMEWORK TO SEND TO MY PROF TOMORROW DAMMIT!”

The door slammed shut and Klarion was left snickering to himself as he used one of Miguel’s pens to stir his tea.

And finally, there came another door slamming open from the hall. Klarion watched with glee as Cassandra bounced silently to Bunker’s room, practically ripping the door open.

Miguel yelled indignantly for only a moment as Cass ran into his room, and ran out just as quickly.

“Wait! Cass, I was using those! Please! I don’t have anything else!”

But it was too late, the girl had locked herself back in her room with the crayons, and Klarion began outright laughing.

He hadn’t expected Cass to be so attached to her art supplies.

Evidently, he’d been wrong.

…

Rose’s eye twitched a moment as Raven cleared the holo-screens to begin her presentation for Plan C.

They’d never get to Plan C, though, if Klarion and Duela wouldn’t stop that incessant clicking of their pens.

It’d been a bunch of simple messages back and forth so far, but now they’d been stuck on switching between different obscenities for the better part of the hour.

“ENOUGH! I’ve heard everything you two have said about us for the past hour, so knock it off!”

“Knock what off?” Duela asked innocently. And Ravenger grew more incensed.

“The morse code! I know you know I know it!”

“Yes Rose, me and Duela spend our limited free time and money learning an outdated mode of communication just so we can have secret chats right in front of you,” Klarion said, rolling his eyes.

Each of the Berserkers glanced at one another, no one saying a word.

There’d be no way to confirm such an accusation, because none of the rest of them knew the language. Sure, Raven was inclined to believe her sister. And Cass could tell from Duela’s demeanor that she was hiding the truth, and from how consistent their clicking was, that it fell perfectly in line with a pattern. The rest of the Berserkers however, had waited till well after the meeting to ask them in their own time.

Always something to the variation of, “So… do you?”

And always answered with a resounding, “Yep, that’s exactly what we did.”

And on that day, the team truly learned to never underestimate the duo, and to fear how quickly they had turned on their once great prank partner.

Or maybe, it’d been a hint at a greater conspiracy shared between the three of the Berserker’s resident pranksters.

There never was a way to tell…

#rose wilson #duela dent #klarion the witch boy #the berserkers #purified murder family au #asked and answered #dastrigon #randywritesfic #i got to the bird funeral episode and #also i was missing writing #so i pushed these out a little at a time #hope ya don't mind rem. but i tried to give em like... idk more fitting reasons other than #yknow the general 'just to fuck with em' i guess? or at least something more inclined to their personality types as i see em?#idk... it Works i guess?#i rlly wanted to fit the Jello thing but lets me honest #they all pull that one on each other at some point #'WHO PUT THE BOOK OF AZAR IN JELLO AGAIN'#rose: dammit guys again??? what is this amateur hour!

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just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms · 6 years

Text

Monster Family

Title: Monster Family

Characters: Reader, Sam, Dean, OFC Addie, and a few special friends

Word Count: 1,880

Warning: This talks about child abuse, but Addie does live, and gets to safety. This is very fluffy though, with very angsty parts. If you want to talk about the specifics, message me and we can figure out if this is a good fit for you.

Pinterest Prompt: A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed, but what she doesn’t know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters...her parents

A/N: As I said, this is an angsty piece that delves into child abuse. The reader is the “monster” that helps Addie to a new life. It follows the prompt really well. I personally think it’s a piece that’s worth reading because although there’s the darkness, there’s also big pieces of fluff.There are ADORABLE pictures in there that were drawn by me with my left hand so they look like a child did them. I’m actually really proud of this piece. Enjoy!!!

“Mom, mom I’m scared!” Addie yelled from her bed, hiding under her blankets. “Mom! Mom! He’s back!” She started to cry.

This was the third night in a row that she was screaming. Mom was out in the living room, listening to music and online shopping. She heard Addie, but then again Addie was usually screaming about something.

Addie whimpered and slowly fell asleep, terrified of the monster she saw again.

You peaked up and around the edge of the bed. Damnit. This was your first week with Addie and you hadn’t been able to reach her. Sliding back under the bed, you tried to figure out a way to let Addie know that you are there, but you aren’t there to hurt her.

It was the 6th night when you said to hell with it and jumped out from the bottom of the bed. Addie had been screaming for close to 10 minutes now. Running down the hall you peaked around the corner. It was one of your worst nightmares.

Mom finally shoved her back into her room, and locked the door. Addie screamed even more the second she saw you. You held your arms out in front of you.

“Addie, sweetheart. Addie, I’m not going to hurt you. Addie, I promise you’ll be okay.” She started to cry a little less, but was still bawling her poor eyes out. “Addie, Mom hurt you. Let me look at your leg.”

Addie slowly moved herself back, but stuck her leg out to you. Slowly approaching, you gently placed your paws on her leg. The cigarette burn was bright red.

When the front door slammed, you looked out of her room. “Addie, I’m getting you ice, okay?”

She started to wipe her tears as you slowly left the room. You almost crushed all the ice in your fist you were so pissed. Sure, she screamed, smacked, spanked...but that woman hadn’t done damage like this before. You took a moment to compose yourself before walking back in.

“Addie, sweet pea, I’m putting this on your leg. It’s going to sting a bit, but it will help.”

Addie looked up, her eyes studying your face, tears still streaming down. Her posture started to soften a little.

“Um...you’re a monster.” You smiled back at her. “Why...you aren’t hurting me.”

“Sweetheart I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to protect you. Mom...she’s hurting you. That shouldn’t be happening.”

“But...but she...I didn’t make the dinner!”

“Addie, you’re 7 years old! You aren’t supposed to make dinner. That’s what Mom is supposed to do. Not hurt you.”

Pulling back the ice you took a look at the burn. There wasn’t any hope for this. It was a fresh lit cigarette and she held it on there for too long. That bitch. This….you didn’t have words for it.

“Addie, we need to get you out of here. It’s not safe.”

“But Mom!”

“Addie!” When you raised your voice a bit she pulled back and curled up into a scared ball. “I’m so sorry! Sweetie oh I’m so sorry! You didn’t do anything. Mom just makes me so mad. Doesn’t she make you mad?”

“Yes.” Addie nodded, still scared. “But, Mom says I’m bad, so it has to happen.”

Slowly moving, you sat next to her and pulled her into your lap, holding her tight. She felt like a solid little ball, but within seconds she was burrowing into your fur and crying. You finally broke. You were trying so hard to stay strong for Addie, but you just couldn’t anymore.

Rocking Addie slowly to sleep, you started to doze a little too. Mom slamming the door with a man’s voice made you practically throw Addie out of your arms as you buried her under the covers.

“What! Stop!” You put your hand over her mouth.

“Addie, you have to listen to me. Pretend to be asleep. Mom’s home with a boy.”

Her eyes went wide and she slammed her head into the pillow. You sat at the foot of her bed all night. You heard all the drunken slurs and the smoke from the weed wafted through the house. The noises of sloppy, borderline homicidal, sex made your bones shake.

Thankfully, after that night, Mom was out with that man basically every night. She left a few frozen pizzas, out of Addies reach, for her to live off.

You helped her with homework, a school project for the 100th day of school, and living on her own. She made a drawing of the two of you that you would keep forever.

One of the nights Mom was gone, you decided to bring up a conversation you didn’t want to start. It was time though.

“Hey Addie, do you ever think about what it would be like if you didn’t live with Mom?”

“I don’t.”

“You haven’t thought about it?”

“No. I just don’t live with Mom.”

“What?”

“She said it was her house. Only her’s. So I don’t live here I guess.”

You weren’t sure if you were going to explode, cry, or...you couldn’t even think of anything else.

“Addie, I think we need to leave.”

Her head shot up. “What? We can’t! Mom said I can’t leave the yard unless I’m on the bus to school!”

You knew she wasn’t going to leave on her own. You were going to need help.

“Hey, Addie, I’m going to make a call to a special friend. Keep going on those numbers, okay?”

“Yep!”

Stepping into the living room, you closed your eyes. “Sully, I need you!”

You opened your eyes.“Sully, oh thank god!”

“How can I help?” Sully looked at the house and was horrified. “We need to get her out! I don’t even need to see the rest, or Addie. Get her out!”

“That’s what I need help with!”

Sully thought as he looked around. “Okay, let me talk to a buddy of mine.”

“Sam?”

“Yep! Give me a bit. I’ll be back as soon as I can with an escape. Keep her safe till then.” Sully gave you a big hug, and then vanished.

Something loud thumped on the front door and you booked it to Addie’s room.

“Hey! It’s Mom! Get your book and hide in bed to read in your cave. I’ll be right here.”

Abby burrowed under her covers. The noises got louder and the door slammed hard.

“You fucking bitch!” The man was screaming and then there was a slap. “Get your shit and let’s go!”

“No!” Mom yelled back and tried to hit him you thought because there was a huge crash. “Stop! Please! My baby is here!”

“Fuck your baby. You don’t even give a fuck about her.”

“Yes I do!” There was another huge crash and wailing. He must have really hurt her this time.

“I’m gonna kill your little waste of a space daughter!”

Addie’s head shot out of her covers, tears in her eyes.

“No!” Mom’s voice was faint. She must have been really hurt. “Please!”

The noise of his footsteps turned away from the hallway and back into the living room where Mom was whimpering.

“Addie! Go!” She froze and looked at you. “Out the window! I’ll help. You need to go!”

Pushing the dresser you blocked the door. Addie was grabbing her bear and blanket. You shoved open the window, pushed Addie up, and shot through the wall so you could catch her on the outside.

You guided her to a neighbor’s house. “Knock! Addie knock as hard as you can!”

She started wailing on the door while you kept an eye out. The door started to open and she barged her way in.

“Please! Help me! He’s hurting Mom! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Woah, woah,” the woman squatted down to Addie’s height as her husband locked the door behind them. “Where? Where are they sweetie?”

“At my house! Two houses that way!” She pointed towards the right. “Call someone!”

She collapsed into the woman’s arm’s as her husband ran for the phone.

Within minutes the cops were swarming the house. Ambulances came onto the scene as shots rang out. Addie buried into the woman’s arms, sobbing.

An officer came to the door and started talking to Addie. You stood in the corner, never taking your eye off of her. She told everyone what had been happening in the house. She said that she did her own cooking with the help of a stool, and her own homework. Between the abuse and the abandonment, no one could hardly comprehend it.

You kept sending messages to Sully. “Hey, I need you. Come on man. Please.”

There was a knock at the door as two tall men walked in. You smiled, and nodded to Addie.

“Hello, I’m Mr. Lennon, and this is Mr. Harrison. We are with Child Protective Services.”

The cop nodded and waved them into the living room. The interviewing cop took the boys to the side.

“Her mother is dead. The boyfriend used her body to shader the glass coffee table and beat her to death. He’s dead. Came out charging and was shot on the spot. What’s your plan for the girl?”

Sam looked back at Addie. “We’ll take her. We will get her a home, and take it from here. If we need more from you, we’ll let you know. Here’s our card if you need to get ahold of us.”

Dean walked over to Addie, squatting in front of her. “Addie, I’m Dean. This is Sam. We are going to take you with us. We’re going to find you a home.”

On the ride back to the Bunker, Addie curled up in your lap, and you couldn’t stop thanking everyone.

Dean lead you to a room for Addie. Sam and Sully caught up for a bit. You laid her down gently, and when you covered her up, she stirred. “Y/N, where am I?”

“We are with a friend. You are safe. I will be right outside the door before I come in and watch you overnight. Okay pumpkin?”

“Yes.” Addie gave you a quick smile and bundled up.

The next morning Addie came into the kitchen holding your hand. “Addie, this is Sam and Dean. They are letting us stay here for a while.”

“I made pancakes,” Sam smiled. “I hope you like pancakes?”

“Yes!” Addie lit up. “Yes, yes YES!”

She ran to the table and Dean got her all set. Everything was set out for her and the three of you went into the library.

“So, Y/N, why the big scary monster?” Dean looked you up and down.

“Monsters Inc. It’s one of her favorites. She had so many real people let her down, I figured a nice, almost familiar, monster might help.

“Well, hey,” Sam held out his hand for you. “You did a damn good job. You saved her life.”

You beamed. “That’s what I’m here for!”

Addie came running into the library with a picture in her hands.

“Look! Look! I drew our family! Our big new family!!”

PLEASE send feedback!!!!!

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#spn fan fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn ofc #spn angst #sam winchester angst #dean winchester angst #mentions of child abuse #do not condone child abuse #angsty fan fiction #angsty supernatural

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cosmoseinfeld · 6 years

Text

Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy

Characters: Dean, Cas, cameo by Sam & Charlie

Summary: Dean and Cas go camping. Things and feelings happen. Fluffy fun and a bit of pining.

Word Count: 6.198

Warnings: a bit of angst/comfort, weed smoking

Timeline: S9 fix-it :P Cas is human, Charlie is alive and they all live at the bunker

A/N: Many thanks to @jemariel for beta reading this. I had so much fun writing this one. Feel free to leave feedback. You can read it on a03

“Uhm,” Sam says while entering the bunker’s garage.

He had heard some noises and had gone to investigate their nature.

“Are you going on a field trip or something?” He asks, leaning against the door frame watching Dean loading up the Impala. The only answer he gets is a groan.

To avoid answering the question, Dean keeps pushing stuff into the backseat. But Sam isn’t going to let this go. The sleeping bags he sees leaning against the car have piqued his interest.

“Should I pack my bag? Do I have to bring my cozy PJs? And what’s up with the fishing rods?”

Dean pretends to be very busy leaning into the backseat but he also knows he can’t stay like this until his brother gets hungry or whatever. He resurfaces and quickly grabs the sleeping bags to throw them in there, too.

Of course, he also knows it is too late to avoid any suspicion. The damage is done. He should have put the fishing rods in there first…

With a pained look on his face (that no one but the Impala can see because he keeps his back to his brother) he finally says “Uhm… Cas has been watching the Discovery Channel lately, like – a lot. He kept pestering me about ‘wanting to explore nature as a human’ or whatever. Dude just got on my nerves so much this week that I promised him a camping trip. To shut him up.”

Sam snorts. “Yeah right. How come I wasn’t invited? Sounds more like a romantic getaway. Moonlight serenade by the sea type.”

“Uhm yeah you can shut up now,” Dean hides his blushed cheeks by picking up two six-packs and almost throwing them into the trunk which is now packed to the max.

“No, seriously, I am offended. When was the last time you invited me to some fun time activities?”

“That must have been back when you were no bigger than a breadbox and actually knew how to have fun. Since your college stint, your definition of ‘fun’ seems to consist of books and research. You can do that all by yourself. Hey, with me and Cas gone all weekend, you will have the archives all to yourself. Enjoy!”

Dean tries hard to deflect with teasing Sam about being a Boring Betty but to no avail.

“All weekend?! Wow, Dean. What, you accidentally only packed one sleeping bag so the two of you will have to share? Oaw, you old sap!”

Sam laughs his ass off. Dean should have really planned better ahead and executed all the loading process when his brother was out for some errands. Just when he thinks it couldn’t get any worse, Cas enters the room with a picnic basket.

“Oh for love of…”

“Oh, hello, Sam. Dean, I made us some PB&J sandwiches,” Cas doesn’t seem to pick up on any vibes and confidently walks over to the car. Dean is at a loss for words and clearly overwhelmed by the situation. He just wants to get the hell going.

“Yeah, uhm… thanks. Awesome. Just put it in the trunk,” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact and scratching his neck.

“Hey guys, what’s up with the sausage party in the garage?” Charlie says in her usual bubbly voice, appearing behind Sam.

“Dean and Cas are going on a romantic weekend camping trip,” Sam answers casually.

“Oh cool! You guys should get a treasure map and go on an *innocent* hunting trip”

“We are NOT getting a stupid treasure map. Okay, that’s it. Cas, get in the car. We are leaving.”

Dean hauls himself into the driver’s seat, puts the keys in the ignition and practically starts driving with the door still open. He can see Sam and Charlie laughing in the rear mirror as he drives away.

They drive in silence. The only voice that can be heard is that of Robert Plant. But neither of them feels the need to talk. It’s nice. They are comfortable sitting and driving in silence.

After a few miles, Dean suddenly turns left into the parking lot of a Gas n Sip. Cas glances at him with a questioning look.

“Just wait here for a minute. Don’t venture off.”

Cas keeps himself busy staring out the window, watching two ravens on a food hunt for the next five minutes until Dean plops himself back onto the seat and throws a flyer into his lap.

“What’s this?” He gets no answer so he takes a look at the glossy piece of paper. It reads

Where ye find yer big ol’ treasure – be it in a box or in yer heart. Arrr!

“Is that…?”

“Yeah yeah, it’s a treasure map. I thought ‘what the hell’, right? Might as well have some fun. I hate to break it to you buddy, but these camping trips can get real boring real fast. Discovery Channel has been messing with your head. Nature is not that exciting after all.”

Cas stares at him but he doesn’t get a follow-up and soon, the engine roars and the music starts playing once again. So he just opens the flyer and starts reading about an apparent ancient hidden treasure in the area they are about to spend the next two nights in.

It ends up being a two hour drive and the closer they get to their destination, the more nervous Dean gets. He really hasn’t thought this through. Cas had just been going on and on about nature and eventually, Dean had gotten so sick of having to listen to this broken record that he had acted on impulse and prompted this trip. Although he keeps telling himself that this has been the reason, a small voice in his head keeps telling him that he knows this isn’t ALL there is to it. But he keeps telling this voice to shut the f up. This is a normal dude trip. Hell, he has heard guys talking about these buddy trips lots of times. Of course, he has never actually been on one himself because all the trips he has done since he was little have been hunting trips. Spending two nights out in the open? Sleeping in a normal TENT? The vulnerability! People are so naïve. He had actually spent the whole week prior to this trip researching the areas surrounding them, making sure he picks the one with the least suspicious police reports.

He works himself up more and more until he is ready to turn around and call the whole thing off. Jeez, what has he been thinking? Both of them are human, about to go nighty-night with probably a dozen non-human things watching them. Wait. Watching them? Going to sleep? Together? Oh Jesus Christ, he is about to sleep in a tent. With Cas. He had found this tent in the bunker and with one look at it, he had known that it wasn’t a family size tent. His heart starts racing. This is a bad idea. Just when he is about to tell Cas exactly this and yank the steering wheel to perform a U-turn, his chain of panicked thoughts is interrupted.

“I think we are here.” Cas says, pointing ahead to a parking stop at the start of a very wooded area.

In all his research, Dean had forgotten to check the distance from the parking area to a possible camping spot. Actually, he hadn’t checked tripadvisor at all, like a normal person probably would have done. He is sweating profusely. This time, not because he is a nervous wreck but because he is dressed in three layers of clothes, carrying half the camping equipment, PLUS the two six-packs.

Meanwhile, Cas is adorably carrying the picnic basket and the fishing rods.

“Dean, are you sure you don’t want me to carry some of this? I could at least carry the tent.”

“No it’s fine,” He groans, not making his answer sound very believable. But Cas knows when to pester and when to be quiet. He has to let him have this. It is a very masculine thing to do.

They hike for about half an hour until they reach a nice looking spot at a lake.

“This looks nice,” Cas nods to himself.

Dean doesn’t really care for aesthetics at this point, he is just happy to be able to drop all the junk and take a nap right then and there.

But he doesn’t of course. He wants to settle in and have the tent up before dusk. It is around noon.

They squibble and fumble. There is a lot of “Dean, I don’t think this thing goes there” and “No, I am sure this is how it’s supposed to – oah crap” but eventually, they get the whole thing set up.

Dean has been right. This tent is tiny. With the two sleeping bags and the duffle bag, it is fully occupied and Dean makes a mental note to postpone getting to sleep as much as humanly possible.

With a groan and a sigh, Dean grabs a beer and sits by the lake. He looks out onto the water and has to admit to himself that nature is indeed beautiful and amazing. No sound is to be heard but the calm waves of the water and the wind rustling through the leaves. The air is clear. The whole atmosphere oozes peacefulness. He allows himself to enjoy this for a moment.

Cas sits beside him, also with a beer in his hand.

“This is beautiful.”

“Yeah… yeah it is… I don’t think I have ever… looked at nature this way. To me, it’s always been this Dangerous Unknown. You know, a threat in every corner, waiting to attack…”

“I think I understand. I have forgotten to look at nature this way, with appreciative eyes.”

They just sit there, admiring all the innocent things that surround them. There is no need for words. Each allows the other to get lost in thought and they share them in silence.

The paper halter of the first six-pack lays abandoned by the tent. Dusk is around the corner. Dean lays back and stares into the sky. The two and a half beers on an empty stomach have done their bit and he feels tired and content. He sighs and closes his eyes. Cas is still sitting and he looks at him, smiling softly.

“You should go to sleep in the tent. It’s going to be cold outside real soon”

“Mmh… You know that when you are ‘in the tent’ you are not actually *inside*, right?” Dean says without opening his eyes.

“Yes. But the sleeping bag will protect you from the cold. I can tell you are about to fall asleep, Dean.”

“Hmpf.”

Cas lets him have another five minutes. He almost feels bad when Cas gently touches his shoulder to wake him up from his half-sleep.

“Dean. Get up. Go to sleep. I’ll be alright.”

These words do it. With all the strength he’s got left in his bones, Dean pushes himself up off the ground and walks to the tent. At the entrance he stops, half looking back at Cas and after a brief moment of silence he says quietly “See you in the morning, Cas.”

Dean wakes up from the lack of oxygen the next morning. The sun is already up and high and going full power and this old tent does not allow any air circulation, especially not with two people occupying this small space. He silently thanks his drunk self from last night for actually having changed out of the layers into sweatpants and t-shirt and leaving the boots outside.

He finds Cas incredibly close to his side, bordering his space and this gives him feelings he much rather leaves inside their “shared bedroom”.

However, when the first panic fades, he realises – there are just the two of them. No prying eyes, no mocking brother around the corner… He relaxes a bit. No harm done in taking one or two quick glances, maybe one longer one. Nobody will know.

He is still lying stiffly on his aching back and looks to his right. Cas is lying on his side, using his hands as a makeshift pillow, steady breathing and his hair a bit ruffled. He looks adorable. Dean never wants to look at anything else for the rest of his life. This sight alone soothes him so much that all anxiety leaves his body. For a moment. Until Cas sighs loudly, shifts and looks like he is about to move in even closer.

(Dean wants nothing more than to wrap his arm around his shoulder, tug him in, feel his body next to him, chest pressed against chest…)

The panic is back and so Dean makes for a quick exist. He covers his eyes from the unfiltered sunlight outside and takes a deep breath. It is actually nice to smell fresh air and see sunlight after waking up. The only thing hinting the hour of the day in his bunker bedroom is his clock.

He stretches his back when he suddenly hears his stomach growl. Didn’t they bring sandwiches? Oh right, in the tent. Not an option. There is a leftover beer from one of the six-packs by the lake and Dean seriously considers it.

“Oh well, the old fashioned way, then.” He says to himself while picking up one of the fishing rods and settling down by the lake.

It is nice, he has to admit. It is still early, so it’s rather quiet. Not many birds are up yet. He has no idea how fishing actually works but he has brought some worms and he attaches one to the hook. He throws the line into the water like an amateur and just sits there, waiting. It is not like he is expecting to catch something. It is just nice to have something to do (or having the illusion of doing something) until he can figure out what to actually do next.

He sits there quietly, alone with his thoughts for once. He thinks about his childhood, lost moments and memories but also the good ones. Little moments that make him smile. It hasn’t been all bad in the past. He is a little scared to go that far down memory lane. He knows it will evoke some memories in him that he would rather keep buried. Like that one time his father didn’t allow him to go see My Own Private Idaho because there was “work to do”. But no, he won’t go there.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to. Like always, Cas saves the moment. Dean is still lost in thought when Cas gets out of the tent, stretching his limbs and breathing in the fresh air.

“Hello Dean,” He says standing next to him.

Dean jerks around, staring into those blue innocent eyes.

“Oh hey, Cas. I hope I didn’t wake you up or anything.” He knows he hasn’t but he needs a second to collect his thoughts.

It is still settling in. He is actually doing this. Camping with Cas. Camping with an angel – formerly. What has his life become.

“Mh, I like this. This is just like the dream I visited you in many years ago.”

“Yeah? I don’t remember…” He does.

“It was a little different but not much. Have you caught anything, yet?”

“Uhm, no, Cas. I have been out here for like 10 minutes.”

“Would you like a sandwich while you wait?”

Dean nods and simultaneously wonders how good a pb&j sandwich can be the day after being made.

He finds out that it is not going down the throat voluntarily and is to be forced down with a strong coffee.

Unfortunately, the coffee is also from the day before and tastes like cold despair and water boarding.

There have been nicer breakfasts. More romantic breakfasts. The Breakfast Club.

“Hm, thanks… Well, this is definitely a first.”

“What do you mean?” Cas tilts his head a little and adjusts his legs. His half eaten dry AND soggy sandwich dangling from his hand.

“Well… I mean, I have been out on the road. Hell, I have camped before. But never for pleasure. Until now, I never even knew it COULD be pleasure… It’s still up for debate of course, if this counts as pleasure but so far, nothing horrific has happened and I count that as a win.”

Cas nods. He likes it all. The light, the warmth of the sunlight, being woken up by natural instincts (you know, because it’s WARM and BRIGHT). But deep down he knows these are not the only reasons he woke up.

It has also been the emptiness beside him.

When he had crawled into the tent the night before, it had been quite difficult to make space for himself. Dean had laid there sprawled out in a total sleep coma. It had been late and Cas, not being used to being drunk after two beers, just quietly got into the additional sleeping bag, ignoring the grunt and the arm, coming from Dean’s side, ignoring any kind of possible interaction.

But right now, things are easy. Dude-Bro, he knows that code.

They sit there for a while, not talking, like they often do. It may seem strange to some but to the two of them, these are sacred moments. And when you think about it, it is rare in life that you can sit with a person in comfortable silence.

But eventually, the last crusts of day old sandwiches are eaten and the last drops of lukewarm coffee have been downed. It is time for some action.

Dean doesn’t want their silence to become uncomfortable. Because everybody knows, there definitely comes a time when comfortable silence turns into awkward silence. So, Dean follows his deflection instinct and stands up, rather suddenly.

“Okay, Cas. We got a whole day to ourselves. That’s like 12 hours of fun. I didn’t buy those leaflets for the sake of spending money I don’t have. Let’s go on a treasure hunt!”

For a moment, Cas is confused and looking taken aback. But he doesn’t actually have an idea how these camping trips usually work (which is getting drunk around noon and fighting a hangover until midnight, where you fall asleep and don’t care about a non-existent bathroom), so he complies.

“Do we need… gear?” He asks awkwardly which makes Dean chuckle.

“I don’t think we will need angel blades or salt on this one” and he secretly hopes they won’t. Because, as much as he is enjoying this (or trying to), he still can’t shake his hunter nature off completely.

They do pack a bottle of water each, just in case they go off their trail. Dean hesitates leaving all their stuff behind but he hasn’t got it in him to reload the Impala with all this junk just for a few hours.

The map he bought for a dollar fifty leads them through the woods, having them make turns left and right. Dean is getting frustrated but Cas is excited, so he swallows his emotions and keeps focused on the map that he knows is total BS.

It’s approaching noon and the sun keeps shining upon them mercilessly. Dean sits down on a large rock.

“Cas, I need a break for a minute. Or many… I think this treasure map is a load of bullshit… we have been walking for ages now…” He moans and lays back on his back.

Cas sits down beside him. Close. Dean feels the urge to scoot away from him. He resists but it does things to his nether region.

It doesn’t help that Cas stretches out his legs and sighs. But it is a sad sigh and he says “I am sorry, Dean- I really hoped that this would turn out to be a fun activity. I can see that it is not entertaining you.”

“Oh, hey, no! This is not your fault. I mean, I bought the damn flyer.” He looks up at Cas who has his eyes to the ground. He feels like he needs to comfort his friend, but he doesn’t know how. So he just tries to keep the conversation going.

“I say we give it another try for the next two hours and if we don’t find a treasure… Well, then we just have to get lucky in other ways,” He winks without meaning to. Damn it.

They continue their treasure hunt a minute after that

The map leads them to a well walked upon trail amongst some trees. There is indeed an X formed with some sticks, marking a point.

“Do we dig?” Cas asks.

“Feel free if you like to. I am not digging for shit,” Dean says, gesturing at the ground. He has done his faire bit of digging up ground.

Cas hesitates but then “Well, if you are not digging, I won’t either.”

“Whoa. You made me hike all the way up here and then refuse to dig?”

“Would you like me to dig?”

Dean finds that questions a little too cocky and provocative, so he adds “Yeah, Cas. Dig for me” in a rather challenging tone.

Cas starts digging with his bare hands and it is only for about five minutes that Dean can stand the sight of it.

“Okay, okay. Stop digging. At best, we would discover a dirty shirt that reads ‘We were here.’”

Cas stops and looks at him.

“You want to leave without a treasure?”

Dean looks into those blue eyes and thinks to himself that he has already found his treasure. But he is saved from having to form a more neutral answer when a teenager approaches them from out of nowhere.

“Ugh hey guys. You looking for a fancy treasure?”

Dean’s hand immediately reaches back to where his gun normally would be but there isn’t one and he remembers he is on a fun innocent trip. But damn, he wishes he had something on him.

“Yes. Did you find it?” Cas asks and Dean is struck by how cute and stupid this question is.

“I sure did. I am willing to… uhm… share. If you are interested.”

Dean is starting to recognise this college lingo and it dawns on him that this kid might have found out about travelling tourists and saw an opportunity to distribute his drugs.

“We are. We don’t want to leave empty handed,” Cas replies and sends Dean an encouraging nod. Dean wants to die on the spot of second-hand-embarrassment.

“Cool, dude. But the treasure has a price. Depending…”

“Depending on what?”

Dean is just too dumbfounded to interrupt this conversation. Is this actually happening?

“On what and how much, man. You are not a usual buyer, I guess?”

“No, we don’t usually buy treasures.”

At this point, Dean just wants to see how it all plays out. And if he is being honest with himself – if not do drugs on this weird adventure, then when?

“Uhm, okay. I got some prime weed on me. How much you got on you?”

“What would we do with weed? It is growing all over this place,” Cas gestures at the wild weed surrounding them. Dean is just staring at the two of them with wide eyes. Then he cracks up.

Not being able to take it any longer, he says “Yeah, no. Weed is fine.”

Dean counts some bills out of his wallet and hands them to the guy. He receives a small plastic bag in return.

“This better be the good shit you promised us or I will hunt you down,” Dean says jokingly but giving the guy a very serious look.

The guy nods and quickly sets off.

“What did you just purchase?” Cas asks and tilts his head.

“Uh, never mind. We will get to this later… So, are we calling this a day?” Dean gestures to the ground.

“I guess so. It is getting quite hot out here. I figure, it is best to head back to our resort and rest in the shadows.”

Dean snorts at the wort “resort” but he is happy to return to their tent and be done with all the useless hiking.

As usual, the way back feels way quicker and when they reach their spot, Dean feels relief wash all over him. One, because their stuff is all still there and two, because he can just lay the fuck down and rest his aching legs and back.

“This was fun,” Cas says.

“Uh-huh.” Dean replies while dropping the duffle bag and dropping dead onto the ground next to the tent. He is just happy that the afternoon has just arrived, blessing them with some actual shade. With the last bit of his strength, he manages to get out of his jacket and plaid shirt, allowing his bare arms to breathe in the fresh air.

Cas stands there, uncertain. He sheds some of his clothes and sends a longing look out onto the lake. A quick swim never hurt nobody, right? So he strips right out of his jeans and boots and socks and makes a run for the water.

Dean doesn’t even realise what is happening until he hears a loud splash.

“What in the…?! Cas, what are you doing?!” He props himself up on one arm and looks over his shoulder.

“I felt hot. I wanted some cooling!” Cas yells from out of the water.

Dean just stares at his torso emerging from the shallow waves and has to immediately avert his eyes.

“You want to join me?”

“Err, no thanks, I’m good. Take your time!”

The last time Dean went for a swim was ages ago. Does he even still know how to do it? Pretty sure he would look ridiculous, paddling like a dog. Although, deep down, Dean knows this is not the whole truth as to why he won’t join Cas in the water.

Dean welcomes the distraction that is his growling stomach. He realises that he has not eating anything but half a soggy dry sandwich all day. He thinks of the canned foods they have packed but the thought of eating cold tinned ravioli makes him voice a loud “Ugh”. Then, he thinks of the weed in his pocket which makes him go “Hm!”

It’s probably not a good idea to do any kind of drugs on an empty stomach, he thinks, revisiting all those alcohol benders but he sure as hell won’t bring any of that stuff back to the bunker and now is as a good time as any to get high and maybe forget about Cas being almost naked, splashing around in the lake.

He gets up to get the stuff and is silently grateful for the papers in the plastic bag. This guy knows his tourists.

Dean rolls up some premium joint. He is a genius that never unlearns a skill once he’s had to teach it to himself. And of course, as a hunter, he always has a lighter on him – just in case.

While Cas is still frolicking around in the water, Dean inhales deeply. He takes two hits and too soon has to realise that, yeah, it’s been quite a fucking while that he has done some weed. This stuff has gotten more intense. Or is he just getting older? Maybe both.

Whatever the reason, instead of feeling relaxed, he feels a sweat building up. His chest tightens and he feels sure that he is never going to breathe again.

Miraculously, he still breathes, though. But his stomach won’t stop churning. Oh god, is he about to vomit? That is about the last thing he wants to do. It’s gonna be all bile.

Because they are ultra-connected, Cas senses that something is wrong with Dean and gets out of the water. He throws his sweater back on as he walks towards the tent.

“Dean, are you okay?”

But in Dean’s head right now, it sounds like a deity calling to him.

“Can I do anything for you?”

Dean is overwhelmed by this guy’s kindness. He just can’t handle it.

“Uhm… could you just… leave?”

Cas is confused and a bit offended but he doesn’t let the feeling surface.

“Sure, Dean. I will be in the tent if you need anything… and I mean anything.” He adds after a short pause.

Dean is only able to nod. The last thing he wants is this guy to witness his bad trip. But his heart is still doing somersaults and not in a good way. He lies down on his back and tries to concentrate on steady breathing, trying to convince himself that it will all go away if he could just manage to calm himself down a bit.

It’s about half an hour later until that he feels his body relaxing and the sweating stopping. He silently sends a quick thank you to the powers above and waits another ten minutes before he gets up and peeks into the tent.

He looks inside and sees Cas reading a book. He is lying on his side and it all looks so humble and inviting. Dean feels the panic building up again. Damn, he needs to get out of this place.

“Err, Cas? Sorry about that, man. Do you feel up for a walk? I think I could use one…”

Cas just nods. Well, this is awkward. But whatever. Dean needs to be out moving but he sure as hell doesn’t want to be alone while still tripping.

They start walking in silence with no real destination. And it’s about fifteen minutes until Dean feels something building up inside of him again. Goddamnit. They are deep into the woods at this point and he starts to feel terribly lost. He hates it. Losing control like this freaks him out even in a sober state of mind. Cas feels that something is wrong and he looks at him directly.

“Are you okay, Dean? Do you want to go back?”

Oh hell yes, he does.

“Nah, it’s fine. It’ll pass in a minute. Let’s just keep walking, alright?”

Why is he doing this? This is such a bad idea.

The panic keeps building up. He is starting to sweat again. His heart thumps against his chest. Jesus F Christ, this is the worst. Dean recognises the feeling from the panic attacks he has had over the years and wishes for nothing more than his windowless bedroom in the bunker.

It is early afternoon when they reach a fork. Cas looks left and right but there are no hints as to where these “roads” are leading.

“I think we better turn around,” He says and it isn’t so much of a question as it is an already made decision.

He is already turning around when Dean grabs him by his arm and brings his finger to his lips to signal him to shut the effup.

“I think I heard something,” He whispers.

Cas hasn’t heard fuck all and is pretty sure that Dean is imagining things.

With confidence, he says “I haven’t heard a thing, Dean. I think we are good to go.”

Dean just shakes his head no. He is standing still like a rock with his hand on Cas’ arm and looks around a little paranoid.

Cas has never seen him like this before – irrational, paranoid and afraid.

“I think it’s werewolves,” He says and it’s barely but a whisper.

Cas looks around, although he is 99% sure that there isn’t anything dangerous hiding in these woods. He is just stalling time to figure out how to deal with his friend.

Dean feels the panic now like a 100%. To him, it is definitely werewolves. It is about to be full moon and they must feel the itch to hunt and feed, he is sure of that. He now clings to Cas like he is his lifeline.

“We should just turn around then. It is still bright. We will be back way before dusk if we turn around now,” Cas says in a desperate attempt to calm Dean down.

Dean barely nods but it is enough to give Cas the confidence to put his arm around Dean’s shoulder and gently guide him on their way back.

They take the path that they came from and short of twenty minutes, they arrive back at their tent.

“I think you should lie down, Dean,” Cas says with serious concern in his voice.

Dean, who has been glancing over his shoulder every two minutes, agrees. He still feels panicky but Cas’ voice soothes him. He nods and ducks down to make it into the tent.

Under different circumstances, he might have complained about the lack of oxygen inside but right now, he just wants to lie down and curl up.

“You want me to leave?” Cas asks.

“What? No, dude. Stay with me. I think I need to close my eyes for a bit but I can’t do that unless I know somebody is watching the entrance”

There is a trace of panic in his voice and it is enough to make Cas smile fondly and reassure him that he is not going anywhere, then.

This fucking weed, Dean thinks as he is crawling into his sleeping bag. He still feels on the edge and keeps glancing over to Cas who is sitting right next to him.

“Are you just gonna sit there?” He asks, mainly just to say something and make the whole ordeal less awkward. But all he gets is a “Yes.”

Dean lies down on his stomach and face plants into his small travel pillow. Well, this has been a nightmare. He is definitely not touching that remaining weed ever again. But, as he slips into unconsciousness, he thinks that it’ll definitely be fun to watch Sam take a hit and flip out. He smiles as he is finally entering the dream world.

Dean wakes up early next morning. Like, real early. He takes his time readjusting to the real word, trying to make sense of what had actually happened and what he’d imagined. Next to him lies a snoring Cas. An open book right next to his face. He must have fallen asleep while reading, how cute.

Dean feels much better and makes a memo to never smoke weed again. His stomach is signalling him once again that he should REALLY get some food inside of him. He sits up and reaches for the duffle bag that’s lying at his feet. He grabs a can of ravioli and a spoon and indulges in a traditional cold camping breakfast.

Feeling much better after that, he checks his watch. It is 7 am. He feels the heat coming from above already. They should probably “check out” before noon to avoid driving back to the bunker in the Kansas heat.

Dean considers waking up Cas but the dude just looks too adorable, drooling all over his book. Dean smiles with fondness in his eyes. They have been through much together, but a bad weed trip? They hadn’t had that on their list before.

Dean lies back down with his arms crossed behind his head. He revisits the past days and lets his thoughts run wild but then, he also thinks about nothing at all in particular.

It’s an hour before Cas shows signs of waking up. He inhales deeply and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks around and spots Dean looking at him. He smiles and says

“Feeling better today?”

“Yeah. Very much. Thank you for… uhm, making sure I didn’t end up naked, wandering around the woods or something”

“Anytime, Dean,” Cas nods and smiles. And oh damn it, that is all this guy ever really does.

Dean looks at his own knees like they are the next world wonder. The sun is shining down on their tent, making it all hot and steamy inside which prompts him to say:

“We should probably be on our way back to bunker soon, Cas.”

Dean sounds almost sad. Cas just nods. He understands that this has been only an escape from reality. They need to get back to duty.

Nevertheless, though, they do take their time. Dean enjoys a second cold ravioli breakfast and they spend some time staring out onto the lake.

It is well after noon when they arrive back at the bunker.

Despite Dean’s hopes, Sam isn’t out and about but sitting in the library, doing research like he always does. But when he hears the main door close, he jumps up and heads towards the entrance.

“Back from the honeymoon so soon?”

“You know what, why don’t you unload the car while I go and exchange all my toothbrushes that you have rubbed up your ass while I was gone?”

Sam doesn’t stop smiling, though.

“Oh, for the love of… at least, make yourself useful. Cas caught a fish today and intends on keeping it. Good luck with that Loch Ness monster.”

#destiel #destiel fic #there was only one tent #pining #destiel fluff #human!cas #pining!dean #writing #my writing #dean winchester #deancas #sam winchester #fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural ff #spn s9

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the-blogger-formerly-known-as · 6 years

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Dream Journal: Yoda God Portal Sex Tattoo

I have a lot of dreams where I see yoda out in public and then he’ll pull a lever and descend through a secret door into the underworld at which point he turns into a faceless god of sorts... i follow him and slide down a tunnel and into hell but hell is actually just an underground bunker thing. The way back out is a door to the right of the tunnel I came down from but it always takes me a long time to figure that out. Last night the bunker was a tattoo parlor with a sex shop in the back. I was about to get an intricate tattoo of a snail in memory of my aunt who had died in the last dream but I remembered that I only had $15 in my checking account (accurate) so I decided to get a shitty line work tattoo from an apprentice but then I became aware that my aunt was Not Dead and that I had only dreamt it (which is interesting because I hadn’t been awake between the two dreams) so I just headed to the sex shop. Someone in the sex shop said that they lost a toy out back in the parking lot and if I find it to return it to them. For whatever gross reason when I found it I stole it and headed back to my home. When I got home it was in its original packaging implying Not Used and it was one that I have been looking into for the past couple of months and ... the dream heads in that direction for a minute. But there were a lot of other girls in the room I was in (not involved in my sexy time) and one of them said she had to work at X company at 10am and I asked her if she knew what time I had to be there and she said that she thought I had to be there at 10 also so I woke up to my girlfriend trying to watch the office with me and smoke weed at 6 am.

#also that bitch was Wrong i work at noon #dream journal

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selina569 · 7 years

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1) What images do you have set for your desktop/cell phone wallpapers?

Phone: Ignis Scientia Desktop: Natalie Dormer

2) Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?

Yeah I have lol

3) What was your last text message?

“Ok”

4) What do you see yourself doing in 10 years?

I would like to have a career in publishing, and/or doing something with my writing, be married, and have at least one kid :)

5) If you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be?

Sleeping. I’m tired af

6) What was your coolest Halloween costume?

Poison Ivy <3

7) What was your favorite 90s show?

Charmed

8) Who was your last kiss?

@jaesylvr

9) Have you ever been stood up?

Yes multiple times in high school

10) Favorite ice cream flavor?

World Class Chocolate: dark and white chocolate mousse flavored icecream

11) Have you been to Las Vegas?

No, but I want to.

12) Your favorite pair of shoes?

Silver, sparkly, peep-toe, stilettos

13) Honestly, have you ever cheated on your significant other?

Yes.

14) What is your favorite fruit?

Grapes

15) Have you talked to anyone on tumblr that you could see yourself dating/having sex with? If possible?

@jaesylvr

16) Are you into hookups? Short or long term relationships?

Doesn’t really matter i’m up for whatever.

17) Do you smoke? If so, what?

Yes: hookah and weed

18) What do you do to get over your anger?

Shut myself away and watch tv or listen to music

19) Do you believe in God?

I believe in the kind of God situation that Supernatural has.

20) Does the person you're in love with know it?

I hope so ;)

21) Favorite position?

Sexually? Me on bottom because I’m lazy lol

22) What's your horoscope sign?

Gemini

23) Your fears?

Clowns, bugs, cars, drinking fountains, throwing up, someone I love dying, failure

24) How many pets do you have? What kind?

5 Cats: Mistique, Finn, Kiki, Thor, and Loki

25) What never fails to turn you on?

Neck kisses, when the other takes control/initiates, hugs from behind :3

26) Your idea of a perfect first date?

I don’t really have one I’m down for whatever just don’t be boring.

27) What is something most people don't know about you?

I was sexually harrassed and assaulted

28) What makes you feel the happiest?

My cats, music, spring days, book smell, TV, those rare moments i have where I can just do nothing.

29) What store do you shop at most often?

Either Charlotte Rousse, Victoria’s Secret, or Hot Topic

30) How do you feel about oral? Giving and/or receiving?

I like giving and receiving, but I have jaw problems so after giving I am in extreme pain :(

31) Do you believe in karma?

Hell Yeah

32) Are you single?

Nope

33) Do you think flowers or candy are a better way to apologize?

Use your words! Material objects do not substitute an apology......but chocolate.

34) Are you a good swimmer?

Yes

35) Coffee or Tea?

COFFEE!!!

36) Online shopping or shopping in person?

Shopping in person because girls clothes are fucking weird!

37) Would you rather be older or younger than your current age?

Younger, I miss being a carefree child.

38) Cats or Dogs?

Both!

39) Are you a competitive person?

It depends on the situation.

40) Do you believe in aliens?

Duh.

41) Do you like dancing?

Yes!

42) What kind of music to you listen to?

I listen to everything there isn’t a lot I don’t like

43) What is your favorite cartoon character?

Flynn Rider <3

44) Where are you from?

Shaumburg, Illinois, U.S

45) Eat at home or eat out?

Getting food to pickup and bring back home lol

46) How much more social are you when you're drunk?

Very! My alcohol of choice is tequila and I become a sloot

47) What was the last thing you bought for yourself?

Chips at my school’s vending machine

48) Why do you think your followers follow you?

I have no idea lol but if anything probably my variety of content. It’s a little of everything.

49) How many hours do you sleep at night?

Average: 5-6

50) What worries you most about the future?

Finances

51) If you had a friend that spoke to you the same way you speak to yourself, how long would you be friends?

Probably, I try to reassure myself a lot because of my constant doubt

52) Are you happy with yourself?

Overall yes, but there is always room for improvement

53) What do you wish you didn't know?

I wish I didn’t know my fear of driving and cars because it is so crippling to my daily life.

54) What big lesson could people learn from your life?

STOP OBSESSING OVER SOME STUPID ASS PERSON WHO DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU, also don’t let people invalidate your sexuality.

55) If you could live in any home on a television series, what would it be?

Probably the bunker in Supernatural because hot boys and loads of books <3

56) What's your favorite Website?

Netflix.com

57) What's the habit you're proudest of breaking?

Holding onto toxic people

58) What was your most recent trip of more than 50 miles?

From my college to my parents’ house.

59) What's the best bargain you've ever found at a garage sale or thrift store?

Goodwill and Savers always have super cheep book and I can get like 10 books for $5-$15

60) What do you order when you eat Chinese food?

Hot and sour soup, chicken or shrimp entree, fried rice, egg roll, crab rangoons

61) If you had to be named after one of the 50 states, which would it be?

Alaska cuz John Green lol

62) If you had to teach a subject to a class, what would it be?

English or Creative Writing

63) Favorite kind of chips?

Lime flamin hot cheetos

64) Favorite kind of sandwich?

Italian Sub

65) Which do you use more often, the dictionary or the thesaurus?

As a writer, definitely the thesaurus

66) Have you ever been stung by a bee?

Bee no. Wasps 3 times

67) What's your favorite form of exercise?

Any exercise that doesn’t feel like I’m exercising

68) Are you afraid of heights?

Without restraints yes

69) What's the most memorable class you've ever taken?

Senior year high school creative writing

70) What's your favorite breakfast?

Eggs (over medium), bacon, sausage, chocolate chip pancakes, coffee

71) Do you like guacamole?

Fuck yes

72) Have you ever been in a physical fight?

Not by choice. Two guys were fighting and took me down with them

73) What/who are you thinking about right now?

How much I want to leave this class, and @hipstalexis because she told me to answer all of these lol

74) Do you like cuddling?

Yes!!!

75) Are you holding onto something you need to let go of?

Yeah I’m always dwelling on shit

76) Have you ever experienced one of your biggest fears?

Yeah I have been in multiple car accidents, and Clowns are a popular part of culture unfortunately.

77) Favorite city you've been to?

NEW YORK. I was only 7, but I fell in love and need to go back

78) Would you break the law to save a family member?

Depends on the family member

79) Talk about an embarrassing moment?

My roommate walked in and heard me having sexy time lol

80) Are there any causes you strongly believe in?

Rape prevention, Suicide prevention, Animal rights, Civil rights, Feminism

81) What's the worst injury you've ever had?

Either my concussion or breaking 3 bones in my hand

82) Favorite day of the week?

Thursday because I only have one class, and I usually don’t work

83) Do you consider yourself sexually open minded?

Yes, very. I’ll try everything once.

84) How do you feel about porn?

Perfectly natural. I watch, read, and write porn

85) Which living celebrity would you like to know?

Natalie Dormer and Tom Hiddleston <3 <3 <3

86) Who was your hottest ex?

87) Do you want/have kids?

Yes I want 3

88) Has anyone ever told you that they wanted to marry you?

Yes and they were all liars

89) Do you get easily distracted?

All the time

90) Ass or titties?

TIDDYS!

91) What is your favorite word?

Antidisestablishmentarianism

92) How do you feel about tattoos?

Love them! Have 1; want more!

93) Do you have any pets?

Already answered lol

94) How tall are you?

5′4′’

95) How old are you?

96) 3 physical features you get complimented on a lot?

Eyes, hair, and legs

97) Is there anything you're really passionate about?

Writing and makeup

98) Do you have trust issues?

Fuck yes

99) Do you believe in love at first sight?

100) What are some words that you live by? Why?

“I learned a long time ago that a person can stand just about anything for 10 seconds, then you just start on a new 10 seconds. All you’ve got to do is take it 10 seconds at a time.” -Kimmy Schmidt, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.

Because whenever something bad, upsetting, or whatever is happening to me I live by this and take 10 seconds to get through it, then I start over. It makes the pain and self doubt manageable.

#personal #questions #about me

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