#factory scrapbook

[heisokay]

Hunter Parrish

#hunter parrish #factory scrapbook #weeds

[darkacey]

Family Beach Day!

I adore Cecil/Fuuka as a ship so much, I made them a pair of OC twin boys named Hyuwa and Nalhwa. Their names mean Wind and River in Hailaimew, Fuuka’s native language. (Hyuwa is the smiling baby, and Nalhwa is the distracted baby.) The twins are were-animals like their mama, but otherwise they take after both of their parents. The twins are free for anyone to use in any Cecil/Fuuka fics or comics! (Just credit me and let me know so I can throw you kudos/reblogs!)

#darkacey draws #rune factory #rune factory 5 #rf5 #rf5 cecil #rf5 fuuka #rf5 Fuuka/Cecil #background is another edited screencap #I referenced a photo I found online for the family portrait #I like to think Ari (my OC ranger) and Lucas took the photo of them #you can’t tell me Lucas *wouldn’t* adore photography given how much he loves documenting everything #Lucas is gonna be a scrapbooking god

[virginiascrapbookingretreats]

#virginia scrapbooking #Retreats #Pennsylvania Scrapbooking Retreats #Lancaster PA Scrapbooking Retreat annual Arts and Crafts creating keepsakes memories forever 21 Virginia Scrapbooking Retreats 4 days craft #scrapbooking #paper craft #creative memories #PA Scrapbooking Retreats Fall #Scrapbooking Memories with Creative Memories and Virginia Scrapbook REtreats #close to my heart #hobbies #Virginia Scrapbooks #Arts & Crafts Virginia Scrapbooking Retreats #hobbies with hobby lobby VA Beach & Glen Allen VA Cheesecake Factory Glen Allen VA Virginia Scrapbooking Retreats

[demoncia2]

A Villainous Christmas Carol: Black Hat is visited by 3 ghosts: The Ghost of Christmas Past, The Ghost of Christmas Present, and the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come. They take him throughout his years of greed and evil and all the misery he's caused, and he smiles fondly. It's like a scrapbook for him. There's an old factory engulfed in an eldritch hellfire and he sighs dreamily. A hatbot zaps Flug with a cattleprod while he's trying to wrap gifts for 5.0.5 and Black Hat chuckles to himself.

The Ghost of Christmases Yet to Come stands before an expansive graveyard, miles and miles into the distance. He removes his hood and cloak, revealing himself to also be Black Hat. The 2 Black Hats shake hands and high five.

Black Hat wakes up early Christmas morning, rushing to set the tree on fire. He hits Flug in the shins with a blunt object. God bless us, every one.

#black hat #villainous #villanos #lbr he would push tiny tim down the stairs #flug

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Sin City

Masterlist

Bobby was working on the Colt, while Dean and I were melting metal into bullets when Sam walks in. "Hey." He said and we look up at him. "Hey, what's up?" Dean asked him. "Might've found some omens in Ohio. Dry lightning, barometric-pressure drop." Sam replied. "Well, that's thrilling." I mutter, sarcastically.

"Plus, some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out. Might be demonic omens." Sam said. "Or it could just be a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker." Dean said to him. "Yeah, but it's our best lead since Lincoln." Sam said.

"Where in Ohio?" I asked him. "Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the rust belt." Sam said and Dean sighs. "There's got to be a demon or two in South Beach." He said and I roll my eyes at but I smile. "Sorry, Hef. Maybe next time." I said as I pat his shoulder and Sam chuckles.

"How's it going, Bobby?" Sam asked him. "Slow." Bobby said. "Eh, I tell you, it's a little sad seeing the Colt like that." Dean said to him. "Well, the only thing it's good for now is figuring out what makes it tick." Bobby said.

"So what makes it tick?" Sam asked and Bobby looks up at him, not amused. Sam holds his hands up in amusement. "So, if we want to go check out these omens in Ohio…" I said as I rise up from my chair then I turn to Bobby and said, teasingly and with a straight-face. "...you think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?"

The boys chuckle while Bobby stares at me, incredulously. "Well, it won't kill demons by then, but I can promise you it'll kill you." Bobby replied and I smile at him. "All right, come on, we're wasting the daylight, boys." I said to them and Dean starts to get up.

"See you, Bobby." Sam said and we start to leave. "Hey!" Bobby shouts and we turn to him. "You three run into anything — anything — you call me." He said and we nod and head out.

"There's not much left for the insurance company. It was a suicide - I saw it myself." Father Gil said to us as the boys and I, now dressed in suits, walk along side of him as we enter the church. "Well, this shouldn't take long, then." Dean said and Gil sighs then points towards the balcony.

"That's where Andy did it. It's the first time I'd seen him in weeks. He used to come every Sunday." He said. "When did he stop?" Sam asked him. "Probably about...two months ago? Right around the time everything else started to change." Gil replied.

"Change how?" I asked, curiously. "Oh, let's just say this used to be a town...you could be proud of. People...cared about each other. Andy sang in the choir, and then one day, he just...wasn't Andy anymore. It was like he was..." Gil said as he started to struggle for words.

"Possessed?" Sam and I asked in unison. "You could say that. Gambled away his money, cheated on his wife, destroyed his business. Yes, like a switch had flipped." Gil said. "Father, did you know the man who killed those folks in the hobby shop?" Sam asked him.

"Sure, Tony Perkins." Gil replied. "Tony Perkins." I said , nodding. "Good man." Gil said. "Would you say that his personality suddenly changed one day, too?" I asked him and he looks over at me, slightly shocked. "I never thought about it that way, but...yes. about the same time as Andy — about two months ago." He said.

"Well, thank you, Father. Appreciate your time." Dean said and we begin to walk away then Sam begins to speak in an undertone. "Two months ago, we open up the devil's gate, all of a sudden this town turns into Margaritaville? It's no coincidence." Sam said and Dean and I nod.

We make it to the hotel and enter our room, Dean chuckles then elbows me and nods at the mirrors on the ceiling. I scoff and shake my head when the door across the hall opens.

"Richie." Dean said as he looks over and the other guy looks up. "I don't believe it." Dean said as Richie smiles. "Hey, Dean...Winchester, right?" He said. "Yeah." Dean said when a tall scantily dressed girl appears from Richie’s room.

"This is my sister, uh, Cheryl." He said. "Hey." She said and the boys and I stare at her. "Cheryl." Dean said as Richie hands Cheryl some money. "There." He said to her and she leaves. "Well, you know...stepsister." Richie said, shrugging, and Dean shakes his head, slightly.

"Come on in." Dean said and Richie comes into the room. "This is my brother, Sam." Dean said as he gestures towards Sam. "And this is my girlfriend, (y/n)." Dean said and Richie nods. "Hey. How you doing?" He asked. "Not too bad." Sam said as I nod at him.

"How do you two know each other?" I asked, gesture towards Dean and Richie "Sam was in school and you, I think, were with your dad." Dean said. "It was that succubus, in Canarsie right?" Richie said to Dean. "Yeah, yeah." Dean said. "Oh, man. You should have seen the rack on this broad. Freakin' tragedy when I had to gank her." Richie said. "Whoa, whoa. Wait. Who killed her? If I remember, your ass was toast until I showed up." Dean said and Richie chuckles.

"Oh, I forgot what a comedian this guy was." He said. "Richie, Richie, know what? I told you then and I'll tell you again — you're not cut out for this job. You're gonna get yourself killed." Dean said and Richie's phone rings.

"Talk to me." He said into his phone then he turns to Dean. "FYI, Winchester — words hurt." He said and I chuckle as Richie goes back to his phone. "Yeah? No, it's not a good time, babe. Later." He said while Dean gives a look towards us. Then Richie hangs up.

"So you find anything in this town, anyway?" Dean asked him. "Ah, no. I got nothing. Oh, wait a minute. You mean as in demons and whatnot?" Richie said. "Yeah." Dean said. "No, I got nothing." Richie said. "Typical. What about your sister back there?" Dean asked. "Oh, honestly? She definitely had the devil in her, but she wasn't no demon, you know what I'm saying?" Richie said and Dean gives him a look of disapproval.

"Right. Seriously. Church guy, hobby-shop guy — they were lunch meat by the time I got there. Hey maybe they were possessed, but I can't prove it." Richie said. "Yeah, that's where we are, too." I said. "You know, let's just say that demons are possessing people in this town. You know, raising hell—" Sam said. "Yeah, but why would a demon blow his brains out?" Dean asked. "Well, for fun? You know he wrecks one body, moves to another. You know, like taking a stolen car for a joyride." Richie said.

"Anybody else left in the town that fits the profile — you know, nice guy turned douche, still breathing?" I asked. "There's Trotter." Richie said. "Who's that?" Sam asked. "Well, he used to be head of the Rotary Club. And then people say he turned bastard all of a sudden? Brought in the gambling, the hookers. ...Ah, he practically owns this whole town." Richie said.

"Know where we could find him?" Sam asked him. "Oh, he'll be at his bar in a few hours." Richie said to us.

Later, the boys and I pull up in the Impala. The town in buzzing, it looks like Mardi Gras — people wandering around with cocktails, sexy girls, and lots of action. "I thought you said this was some boarded-up factory town." Dean said to Sam as he looks around. "It is. At least, it's supposed to be." Sam said.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's do some research." Dean said and I punch his arm. "Ow!" He said and I raise an eyebrow. "I was kidding!" He said and I raise an eyebrow at him. "Mmmhmm. I'm sure. Just to remind you, I know my way around guns and knives." I said. "Careful, princess, jealous doesn't look good on you." He said and I give a playful glare at him. 

He smirks at me then he leans down and kissed my cheek as we head into the bar.

We thread our way through the crowded bar. People were drinking and dancing and seem to be having a good time. Up ahead, we see Richie as he brushes past a woman and approaches us. He's wearing a somewhat shiny orange short-sleeved shirt halfway unbuttoned to reveal a white t-shirt underneath.

"Oh, Richie. Look at you." Dean said. "Hey." He said as he and Dean shake hands. "Bringing satin back." I remarked and Richie looks down at his outfit. "Oh, you like this? Try Thai silk — Canal Street. You'd have to pay $300 for threads like these, easy. Cost to me — fuggedaboutit." Richie said.

"How much is forget about it?" Sam asked. "Ah, forget about it." Richie said, waving his hand, then he points out an older man. "That's Trotter over there. He sits there all night. Can't touch him." He said.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna do a little investigating with that bartender." Dean said and I turn my head to him. "Like hell you are!" I said and he chuckles. "Besides, me and her, we got a little...somethin'-somethin' lined up for later." Richie said to Dean. "Yeah, right." Dean scoffs.

"Stings, don't it? All right. I got to hit the head, release the hostages. Be back in a few." Richie said and Sam laughs at Richie's general cheesiness as he walks away.

"No way he gets a girl like that. I mean, look at her. You could fit that ass on a nickel." Dean said. "You think so?" A voice asked and we turned and see Father Gil sitting nearby. "Oh." Dean laughs. "Busted." I muttered to him. "Sorry, Padre." Dean said to Gil.

"Knew you three would find your way here. They all do." Gil said. "No offense, but what are you doing here, Father?" I asked him. "Like it or not, you go where your flock is." Gil said as the bartender pours him a drink.

"Plus, the clergy drinks for free." She said. "True, and a certain bartender owes me a confession." Gil said to her. "Not in this lifetime, Father." She said, smiling. "I better see your butt on Sunday." He said then he looks at Dean as he leaves the seat. "Nickel or no nickel." He said and he leaves.

"What can I get you three?" She asked. "What's your speciality?" Dean asked her. "I make a mean hurricane." The bartender said. "I guess we'll see about that." Dean said and she walks away and my jaw clenches at this.

"You drink hurricanes?" Sam asked. "I do now." Dean said. "Do you still want your fingers?" I asked him and he smirks at me. "You know, I'm starting to like this jealous side of you. It's kinda hot." He said and I glare at him.

"Hey." Sam said as he hits our arm and points towards two men ar a pool table nearby. One guy raises his gun and shoots the second guy point-blank in the forehead. The crowd erupts in chaos and the shooter aims the gun at his own head.

Dean runs and tackles him to the ground. Sam and I make our way over to them and Sam surreptitiously splashes holy water on him. But the man seems really surprised and outraged by being splashed with water, but doesn't sizzle.

"What are you doing?!" He asked, annoyed, and the boys and I share a look then the man mutters to himself. "He slept with my wife. That bastard slept with my wife!" He said.

"Somebody call 911!" Sam shouts and the bartender runs off.

We were standing in the bar as the cop arrested the shooter and take him away. Then one of the officers comes up to us. "You three ready for your mug shots?" He asked us and the boys and I look at him, nervously, and the cop hastens to reassure us. "The photographer's gonna be here in a few, and...take your picture for the local paper." He said.

"Be an honor, Officer. What a thrill!" Dean said, relieved but also was giving a fake enthusiasm. The officer nods and walks away then I turn to the boys. "Yep, time to go." I said. "Wait a second. Wait a second." Dean said and we look over at him.

"What?" Sam and I asked him. "Where's Richie?" He asked and we shrugged. We looked around the bar as we leave but didn't find Richie so then we head out.

Later, at a different bar, Dean was sitting at a table, a large burger in front of him. His phone was up on his ear but he hangs it up and looks at it, speculatively.

"You do realize there's red meat within striking distance, right?" I said to Dean as Sam returns with some beers for us. "How many times I got to tell Richie, he's gonna get himself in trouble?" Dean grumbles. "Dean, you're assuming he's missing. I mean, maybe he just bailed." Sam said as he sits down.

"He's a moron. I mean, he's a sweet moron, but he's not a coward. He wouldn't just bail. I got to go find him." Dean said. "I'll come with you." I said. "All right. Meanwhile I think I'm gonna trail this Trotter guy." Sam said. "Yeah?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. I don't know. Something about the way he looked at me last night. Maybe there is something going on here." Sam said. "Or maybe he likes you." I remarked and Dean snorts with laughter. "Ha ha, very funny." Sam said as he gets up and leaves.

Dean was able to track Richie's phone which lead us to a large house. We searched the house and found Richie's dead body in the basement, which looked like a place where a ritual could happen. I gasped while Dean stood there and stared at Richie's body. "Damn it." He mutters as he goes over to Richie. "Dean, I'm so sorry." I said and he shakes his head.

"Sam!" Dean shouts, annoyed, into his phone sometime later. We finished giving Richie a hunter funeral and decided to go back to the bar to hunt down that bartender. Dean and I came up with a plan to get her attention towards Dean and she would bring him back to her place down into the basement. That's where Dean would trap her as we drew a devil's trap under the rug in the basement.

Dean went to call Sam but it seems that Sam had to get off of the phone, quickly, as he hung up on Dean. "Sam okay?" I asked him. "Yeah, uh, he said he'd be back here in 20 minutes, so meet up with him and if I'm not back, come find me...or not, I don't care which way." Dean said. "Okay." I said, rolling my eyes. "Good." He said.

"Just remember that whatever I say, I don't mean it." I said as he looks me over. "I know." He said and we share a quick kiss before he heads into the bar.

I stand outside of the door as I watch him sit at the bar and order a drink. He gets the drink from the bartender then another woman, in scantily clothing, comes up to him and gives him a seductive smile and talks to him.

I felt a lump in my throat and anger in my chest as I take a deep breath and storm into the bar. "Are you freaking kidding me?!" I shout as I go over to Dean, who looks up at me in shocked. "Honey, it's not what you think!" He said and I stnad in front of him and fold my arms.

"Oh really?! That's what you said about that bitch from the other night!" I shouted and Dean gives a look of shock and a bit of fright. "You know what? Forget it! Just...just.." I stammered as I try to summon some tears to make it look real. I immediately started to think about my dad and his last moments and this brought tears to my eyes.

Then I glared up at Dean and said. "Screw you! Never talk to me again!" Then I turned and left the bar as Dean calls out to me but I continued to walk out. "Baby, please!" Dean said and he goes to grab my arm. I turn to him and slap him across the face, yank my arm out of his hand then I walk out and away from the door as I wipe the tears from my eyes and composed myself.

I hope that was convincing enough for the bartender to talk to Dean. He'll charm her and then she'll feel pity for him and take him home. Normal girls would hate this plan but I trust Dean enough that nothing will happen, he hasn't given me a reason to not trust him...as a boyfriend that is.

Eventually, I saw Dean and the bartender walk out of the bar together and I stepped to the side of the bar so they wouldn't see me. Dean looks over his shoulder and sees me and I give him a nod then he gives me a wink before he turns back ahead and walk with the woman.

After walking around a bit, I make my way back to the bar and see Sam coming out of the building. "(Y/n)!" Sam said as he comes over to me. "I thought you'd be with Dean?" He asked. "We found out that that bartender is a demon and she had killed Richie. Dean said he'd take care of it but it's been awhile and I'm getting worried. I meant to meet up with you sooner but...I lost track of time." I said and Sam nods.

"I know where to go." He said and he grabs my arm and we head out.

We make it to the house and knocked on the front door. The door swings open and we look at it but decided to go through it anyway. "Dean?" Sam calls out. "Dean?" I said as we check out the place.

I step forward and hear a weird noise under my feet. I look down and see I had stepped on little pink piggy slippers. I shake my head and kicked them aside then we look at a picture of the bartender with a guy, and a cross necklace hanging on top of it.

Sam sees something behind it and reaches around it them pulls his fingers back which were covered in yellow powder. "Sulfur." Sam mutters and I nod.

"Bobby, It's (y/n). We got a big problem. Sam and I found some sulfur, and now we can't find Dean. Call me as soon as you get this." I said into my phone as Sam talks to the barman once we make it back to the bar.

I hang up and look over at Sam, who was annoyed. "So what did he say?" I asked. "Nothing." Sam replied and I sighed then looked over to see Father Gil sitting at a booth. Sam and I exchange a look then approach him.

"Father." Sam said and he looks up at us. "Yes?" He said. "Um...can we, can we talk to you for a sec?" Sam asked and he nods and we take a seat across from him. "So, the, the bartender the other night, Casey. You know her pretty well?" Sam asked Gil, who nods. "Since she was in pigtails." He replied.

"Well, um, she and my brother, they, uh...they...left tonight. Together." Sam said. "Ah. Well...not that I approve, but they are consenting adults." Gil said. "Right." Sam and I said. "I, I'm sorry. You said brother. I thought the three of you were insurance investigators?" Gil asked. "Right, right. Well, well we are. Um, it's like, it's like a family business, you know? And (y/n) here, is an old family friend." Sam said. "Ah." Gil said.

"Anyways, so, we went to Casey's apartment, and they weren't there. Sam and I just have this feeling that they...that they might be in trouble." I said. "What kind of trouble?" Gil asked. "Just...trouble. Dean has a, how you say, a magnet for trouble." I said and Gil looks us over.

"Look, please, Father, we need your help. Is there anything you could tell me about Casey — anyplace she'd go, maybe...?" Sam asked. "Yes, there is a place. Let me get my jacket." Gil said as he gets up. "No, wait, wait, wait, Father. (Y/n) and I can do this by ourself." Sam said. "Son, if Casey's really in trouble, then there's nothing to talk about." Gil said as he stands and puts on his coat.

"Shall we go?" He asked as he has his back to us and straightens his coat. "Yeah." Sam said and we leave the bar.

"So, insurance investigating. You enjoy the work?" Gil asked us. "Yeah." I replied as Gil drives hs. "Yeah, yeah, I...like being able to help people." Sam said. "Ever think about doing anything else?" Gil asked. "Like what?" Sam and I asked in unison. "Mmm, anything. You two seem like pretty smart kids. Somehow I see both of you out in front of the pack. You could do some great things." He said.

"I don't know. I like doing what I'm doing, I guess." Sam said. "Yeah, same here." I said and Gil nods. "Well, it's your life." He said. "And you said that, uh...Dean?" He said to me and I nod. "You said Dean is a magnet for trouble?" He asked and I nod. "Yeah, if he isn't causing it, it'll follow him." I said and Gil chuckles.

We pull up in front of Casey's home, then we get out of the car and start walking towards the home. "Dean?!" Sam calls out but no reply. "Dean!" I shouted and we come upon the front door. "Dean!" Sam and I shout as he pounds door.

"Check that way." Gil said and Sam and I walk off in the other direction around the house. "(Y/n)! Sam!" Dean's voice calls out. "Dean?" Sam and I called out. "Guys, down here! The basement caved in!" Dean shouted as we come up to a grate and see him.

"Dean. Hey, hold on, okay? We're coming. All three of us." I said. "Three of us?" Dean said, confused. "We're here with the Father." Sam replied and Dean turns to look behind him then looked back at us.

"Guys, be careful." Dean said, warningly. Sam and I turn around and see Gil with black eyes. I gasped just as a shot is fired just past Gil's head, destroying a small statute.

He whips around and we see Bobby holding the Colt. Gil then uses his powers to fling him aside then throws Sam into the windscreen of the Impala. I start to run at him but then he flings me back and I hit something hard and I blackout.

I groan as I start to come back to to see Bobby over me. "You alright, girlie?" He asked me as I sit up. "Yeah, just peachy." I said then I noticed Sam wasn't around. "Where's Sam?" I asked. "He just ran inside the house." Bobby said and I get up and make my way into the house.

I just make it towards the basement when I heard a gunshot. I come up next to Sam to see Gil was shot, lightning emits from and circles him as he twitches and dies. Sam then points the Colt at Casey.

"Sam, wait!" Dean shouts but Sam shoots her, and the bodies of Casey and Father Gil, no longer possessed, lie dead on the devil’s trap. My eyes widen at this as Dean stares at his brother as he slowly lowers the Colt, and the bodies bleed out.

"Well, what do you think, Bobby?" I asked him as he, Dean and I walk along the busy sidewalk the next morning. "About what we did here, you think it made a difference?" I asked. "Two less demons to worry about. That's not nothing." Bobby said.

"Yeah, but Trotter's still alive." Dean pointed out. "Humans ain't our job." Bobby said. "Yeah, but you think anything's really gonna change? I mean maybe these people do just want to really destroy themselves. Maybe it is...a losing battle." Dean said to Bobby.

"Is that you or the demon girl talking?" I asked Dean. "Ohhhh, it's me. Demon is dead, and so is that girl it was possessing." He said and Bobby sighs. "Well, had to be done. Sam was saving your life." Bobby said. "Yeah, but you didn't see it, Bobby. It was cold." Dean replied. "Yeah, I'd have to admit that it was pretty cold-blooded of him doing that." I said and Bobby looks at us before Dean stops walking.

"Guys, You think...think something's wrong with my brother?" He asked and Bobby and I look over at him. "I mean, honestly, I was worried about you, (y/n), cause the Yellow-eyed demon said that when you came back from...wherever...it might not have been you." Dean said as he looks up at me and I frown, slightly, at this.

"But now I'm wondering...should I be worried about Sam?" He asked and there was a brief pause before Bobby spoke. "No. I'm sure Sam's okay." He said. "Yeah. Yeah, me too." Dean said then he looks over at me and smirks before he takes my hand and we continue our walk.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester

#fandom #fanfic #fan fiction #reader insert #x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #supernatural dean #dean x reader #deanwinchtser #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural fanfic series #supernatural fanfiction #tv show fandom #tv shows #tv #horror #fantasy #reader

[marinerainbow]

Here are some more questions for Terry if you want to try to develop his character more! Only do this if you have the energy and if you want to of course ^^

7) Does your OC have a favorite and least favorite food?

20) What hobbies does your OC have?

22) Does your OC have a job and what is that occupation? Are they currently happy with it? (I know he works at a factory but if there's anything else you wanna say about it?)

Thank you for asking!!! I'm sorry this took a while :(

7) Does your OC have a favorite and least favorite food?

Terry likes black liquorice XD Yes, Shiny teases him for liking that stuff. I can also see him being a Chinese food kind of guy. As for his least favorite... He doesn't like apples, and he's actually not overly crazy about cheese like you might expect a rodent toon to be. I think he may not be a big fan of fruit in general? He'll go for some sour grapes, though.

20) What hobbies does your OC have?

Not too many, I don't think. He's a pretty laid-back kind of guy. I can see him getting into crosswords and puzzles, and I think he'd be willing to take a crack at scrapbooking if he had some decently captured memories ^^

22) Does your OC have a job and what is that occupation? Are they currently happy with it?

Terry works in a smelting factory, and is often in close proximity with the heat. It's hard work, but Terry doesn't mind. He's made some decent friends in the place who don't pry into his love life (which, for an aro-homosexual in the early 20'th century, was very valuable to him), and it gives him something to do. He's not jumping to go to work every day, but he's content where he's at ^^

Thank you so much for asking! And again, I'm sorry this took so long. This really shouldn't have taken me this long to answer. I hope you enjoy these answers!

#asks #OC asks #my own OC's #Terry Ratt T. #tooniverse #wfrr #who framed roger rabbit

[amypihcs]

Hello! Hello dear friends! Scandalously late, but here i am, let's see today's letter!

They've gone to see the remaining of the busts and Holmes is trying to make something out of them

But now he only gets that the thief AND murderer was somehow interested in something more than just vandalism and... property destruction, apparently? In fact... the place he broke the bust in is relevant

Well, why?

Watson's voice after he called for the help from the public: The lamp!

I SO love that scene <3<3 Yes, i love all of the episode, lol

Let's send a little message to the poor journalist... Are you perhaps planning something, Mr Holmes? Why do you think so, Lestrade? -angelic face-

Pass tonight for some danger hanging out, also, i'm keeping your evidence. Nothing to worry, i'll return them... maybe.

Now for the questioning round!

First one not found. grrr.

Now to the second o-

LOOOOOL funny conspiration theory ahahahah. Morse Hudson is just ... A CHARACTER. As i'd say in Molise, 'un soggetto' But HEY!

He saw the man and gave us a name! Beppo! Probably Giuseppe is the actual name.

DISCLAIMER! I'm Italian, SOUTH italian, more than that. I find this story funny and i WILL make jokes that to people of more delicate taste might sound unsavory on Italy and Italians. Deal with it.

Well, time to head for the bust factory

We need to check the common fact.

And in fact...

Won't comment on the 'blue teutonic eyes' but yep. Beppo's clearly aknown person in the quarter. We even have a rela- NOOOOO no, damnit!

Vaguely panicking Holmes. I do think he suspects Beppo might be hiding at his family's and like, it makes sense, eh!

Obtained some news on this guy and now finally lunch!

To Watson's joy....And to Holmes' satisfaction...

His plan worked!! WAHOO! But Holmes, LET WATSON EAT! And eat calmly, please! You already rushed his breakfast!!

Last questions made and answered, back home where there's him!

LESTRAAAADE! Let's compare notes!

Oh, they're both satisfied, good. Here's the murdered man! Not the funniest person to know

Being from Naples, i DO think it more likely that Pietro and the Venucci fam were part of the Camorra, instead, but the concept is there. Now let's see how to get Beppo. Little outing in the italian quarter?

Nah, better a hop at Chiswick! If it doesn't work, tomorrow, some spaghetti all together by the italian quarter, how does that sound? Good, eh?

Plan for tonight's already done anyway. now sooorry

need to toss paper around! I DO wonder on how many rooms and trunks are filled with newspaper and scrapbooks in baker street. I'm not sure i want to know, i'm sure Mrs Hudson looks faint everytime she thinks of it.

Little analysis by Watson.

Conclusion, IT'S A DANGER DATE! WAHOO!

#letters from watson #victorian husbands #sherlock holmes #dr john watson #inspector lestrade #they made friends finally <3 #love them #love this story

[voidpidgeon]

What’s an interest of yours you don’t get to talk about very much? Could be a hobby, a niche piece of media you like, an animal or era of history you're obsessed with. Anything! How did you get into it? What do you like about it?

-🐝

Trpgs!!!! I love them so much!!!!!! I both DM and play and there are a bunch of groups and DMs in my friend group

We mostly play Dnd and Call of Cthulhu for longer campaigns, but we also tried a bunch of other systems for Oneshots (and sometimes two or threeshots).

Hightlights were the pulpy Monster of the Week, which I played with my parents, and the collective narrative horror system Ten Candels.

OOOOh and the Quite Year, which is fun, easy to run and doesn't even need a DM!

Anyway it is also an OC factory and I love all the character I ever played! Blorbos be upon you!!!!

It also has led me to addtional hobbies such as scrapbooking my character books, collecting dice, painting miniatures and sometimes even build shitty little fighting arenas for my players :D

#pidgeon ask #bumblebee tag #sorry for the late awnser #i have 0 object permenancy for my ask T^T

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

Sir Anthony Hopkins landed a Hollywood film role playing a man who saved the lives of hundreds of children

One Life (2023) ‧ War/Drama. The story of British humanitarian Sir Nicholas Winton, who helped save hundreds of Central European children from the Nazis on the eve of World War II. Sir Nicholas Winton saved 669 children, who were mostly Jewish, from Czechoslovakia before World War Two broke out in 1939.

Sir Anthony Hopkins will appear as Sir Nicholas Winton in an upcoming biographical film called One Life.

Sir Anthony Hopkins tells the story of 'hero' Sir Nicholas Winton in One Life. The Welsh acting legend plays a man who saved 669 Jewish children before the Second World War. Nicholas Winton from London was a stockbroker and humanitarian who died at the age of 106 in July 2015.

He was known for organising the rescue of 669 Czech children from Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia during the nine months before the war broke out in 1939. The story became known to the public in 1988 when it was featured on That’s Life!, the BBC magazine programme. In 2003, he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II for Services to Humanity for this work.

In the nine months leading up to the outbreak of World War Two, 669 children who were mostly Jewish, were transported from Czechoslovakia to Britain and other countries. This was due to the foresight and work of a small group of people organised by 29-year-old stockbroker Nicholas Winton.

He made sure that those who were displaced found a new home, but he was haunted by the thought of those he was unable to save and as a result, he never spoke of the rescue. Around 50 years later, however, his work came to light when his wife, Grete Winton, found an old scrapbook which detailed everything her husband had done, including the names of the children he had saved.

As the news of his heroism broke out, Sir Nicholas was invited to appear on That's Life!. During the show, presenter Esther Rantzen asked the studio audience if "anyone here tonight owes their life to Nicholas Winton?" and in turn, some members of the audience, who sat next to Nicholas, began to stand.

Sir Nicholas Winton was known as "Britain's Schindler" as he saved hundreds of children from Czechoslovakia in 1939(Image: PA)

The stockbroker was reunited with some of the Jewish children he had saved. He was known as "Britain's Schindler" coined after Oskar Schindler who was a German industrialist who saved thousands of Jews he had employed at his factories during the Holocaust.

The remarkable story is now being turned into a Hollywood film and stars Port Talbot-born actor, Sir Anthony Hopkins, as Sir Nicholas Winton.

On the BBC's programme That's Life! Sir Nicholas Winton was reunited with some of the children he had saved in an emotional reunion (Image: BBC)

One Life, which has been adapted from a 2014 book written by Sir Nicholas's daughter Barbara, entitled If It's Not Impossible. The Life of Sir Nicholas Winton will be a biographical film and will focus on Sir Nicholas and the rescue operation. The film will be premiered at the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival in September.

Sir Anthony Hopkins plays the older version of Sir Nicholas Winton, while Johnny Flynn plays the younger version. The film also stars Helena Bonham Carter, Romola Garai and fellow Welsh actor and Hopkins' The Two Popes co-star, Jonathan Pryce. Directed by James Hawes.

#OneLife #SirAnthonyHopkins #WorldWarTwo #rescueoperation #Jewishchildren #BBC #book #Britain'sSchindler #SirNicholasWinton #reunion #Grete Winton #IfIt'sNotImpossible #knighted #BarbaraWinton #biographicalfilm #programme #EstherRantzen

#Youtube

[ratsoh-writes]

Merry Christmas/gyftmas!

(I got covid and lost my sense of smell and taste which is honestly the worst for me I'd rather have a fever/chills and cough 😭)

I hope your day is going well!

In addition to soap molds and some other hobby items, Pop gets converse shoes that are decorated like burgers. There's another box filled with tiny shoes that also look like burgers. "They're sliders." E thinks this is the funniest joke and barely stops laughing

Nooooooo not Christmas Covid 😭😭😭

Pop also dies with you (of laughter)

Pop had gotten E a huge sampler of exotic ebott foods, and the goofiest pen that has a taxidermied mouse on it. ….. E isn’t sure why that made pop think of her. She also got a foot massager and a heat pack for when the baby makes her back sore which was thoughtful

Rhythm got E some shoes as well. Cute work ones with embroidery on them. And a real nice winter coat

Salsa got E and pop a custom scrapbook for when they have the baby, and it already has a few family pictures in there. He got some pictures from her parents too which was nice

Pluto also gave the couple a gift a few days before. He designed and made a super cool baby monitor that doubled as a very long distance walkie talkie. It has enough range that E could talk to pop from the temmie factory while he’s at home, they can send written messages, and it’s got half a dozen safeguards against being hacked. And it’s shaped like pears.

[justforbooks]

In the late 1970s, Bo Goldman was researching a script about Melvin Dummar, the unassuming Utah factory worker, gas station owner and former “Milkman of the Month” who was named as a $156m beneficiary in a will supposedly written by Howard Hughes but later successfully contested in court. Slowly, a realisation dawned on the screenwriter: “This man is a failure just like I am.”

It seemed an unusual conclusion to reach. After all, Goldman had written the book and lyrics for a Broadway musical, First Impressions, based on Pride and Prejudice, before he was 30, and won his first best screenplay Oscar (shared with Lawrence Hauben) for adapting One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (1975), Ken Kesey’s novel set in a psychiatric institution, by the time he was 45.

A second Oscar later came his way for Melvin and Howard (1980), his humane and warmly funny script about Dummar, lovingly directed by Jonathan Demme.

But Goldman, who has died aged 90, was haunted at the time by his inability to sell one of his earliest scripts, Shoot the Moon, or to follow up that 1959 Broadway debut, and by the years he spent in poverty and debt, struggling to provide for his wife and their six children. “I can’t tell you what it does to a man,” he said in 1982. “You feel awful. I respected my wife so much, but felt lousy about myself.”

Hollywood was impressed by Shoot the Moon, the story of a brutal marital break-up that he wrote in the early 1970s, but no one wanted to make it. The writing was strong enough to earn him an $8,000 commission from the director Miloš Forman to re-write Hauben’s script for One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. One of Goldman’s first suggestions – that the iconoclastic patient McMurphy, played by Jack Nicholson, should kiss his admitting officers at the hospital – helped win him the job.

He also scripted the Bette Midler vehicle The Rose (1979), inspired by the life of Janis Joplin, but turned down offers to write Kramer vs Kramer and Ordinary People, both future best picture Oscar winners, because the terrain felt too similar to his unproduced script, which he still hoped would be filmed eventually.

It finally was. The British filmmaker Alan Parker directed Shoot the Moon in 1982, coaxing powerful work from Albert Finney and Diane Keaton as the warring couple, and touchingly natural performances from the four children cast as their daughters.

The critical response was positive. Even Pauline Kael, no fan of Parker’s, said she was “a little afraid to say how good I think [the film] is” and praised the script’s “theatrical richness.” Goldman was disappointed nevertheless by its box-office failure.

After his third Oscar nomination, for Scent of a Woman (1992), he said: “I’m always surprised when anything good happens to me.” That film starred Al Pacino as a blind, cantankerous ex-army officer who cuts loose when he is assigned a prep-school student (Chris O’Donnell) as his companion for Thanksgiving weekend.

Goldman based Pacino’s character on a combination of his father, one of his brothers and a sergeant under whom he had served. Pacino won an Oscar; on that occasion, the writer did not.

He was born Robert Spencer Goldman in New York City. It was at Princeton that he changed his name to “Bo”; the college newspaper, The Daily Princetonian, misprinted his byline, and it stuck.

His mother was Lillian Levy, a millinery model, his father, Julian Goodman, a sometime Broadway producer and the owner of a chain of more than 70 department stores, which went into receivership during the Depression shortly before Bo was born. That dramatic fall informed and even overshadowed the rest of Bo’s life, with its occasionally incongruous juxtapositions. He grew up, for instance, in a spacious, rent-controlled Park Avenue apartment yet the family was usually penniless. His father would leaf through scrapbooks from his glory days, even making annual visits to the stables in Chantilly where he kept his prize-winning race-horses.

Though this precarious economic situation was known to Bo throughout his youth, it was not until much later that he discovered his father had another estranged family, and that his parents had never married.

He was educated at the Dalton school and Phillips Exeter academy prior to Princeton. There he wrote lyrics for the college’s Triangle Show and developed an enthusiasm for writing for the stage. He was in the US army for several years, then made inroads into the television industry, starting in the CBS postroom before progressing to script editing and producing on shows such as Playhouse 90.

Though First Impressions, which starred Farley Granger, was poorly received, he devoted most of the 1960s to writing a civil war musical, Hurrah Boys, Hurrah, which was never staged. He took odds and ends of TV work, but was plagued by thoughts of his father’s ignominies, and bruised by his own. “The only thing which kept me going was my wife and the kids who never cared about my success or lack of it,” he said. “They only cared because it was causing me pain.”

Around the time Shoot the Moon was released, his wife, Mab (nee Ashforth), whom he had met at Princeton and married in 1954, and who supported the family financially through endeavours such as her fish and bread shop, Loaves and Fishes, reflected on the disparity between the bad times and the good: “People were so contemptuous of us … it’s remarkable how success has transformed us into acceptable people.”

Goldman became a sought-after script doctor, working uncredited on Forman’s Ragtime (1981), Demme’s Swing Shift, the coming-of-age comedy The Flamingo Kid (both 1984), Warren Beatty’s Dick Tracy (1990) and the Arthurian adventure First Knight (1995).

Credited screenplays include Little Nikita (1988), an espionage thriller with River Phoenix and Sidney Poitier, and Meet Joe Black (1998), starring Brad Pitt as the pretty personification of death. Goldman also shared a story credit with Beatty on the period comedy-drama Rules Don’t Apply (2016). This was another Howard Hughes-related project, with Beatty playing the reclusive billionaire.

Though Goldman came close several times, his enduring dream of directing was never realised. “I think of myself as a filmmaker,” he said. “I’m a writer only because that is what they pay me to do.”

Mab died in 2017. He is survived by five of his children, Mia, Amy, Diana, Serena and Justin. A sixth child, Jesse, died in 1981.

🔔 Bo (Robert Spencer) Goldman, screenwriter, born 10 September 1932; died 25 July 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#JUST FOR BOOKS #Bo Goldman #in memoriam

[dani-ellie03]

Miniatures, Take 3!

I made myself a new Halloween decoration. I used the 1:24 scale Lighthouse Keeper's Cottage from Real Good Toys and glued it onto an 11"x14" canvas. I purchased the accessories from Target (headstones and black cat) and Factory Direct Craft (pumpkins, bats, broom, rocking chair, and piano). I also used oh so much brown paint, haha.

Notes:

The flooring is made from wooden coffee stirrers cut into strips.

The baseboards are popsicle sticks.

The wallpaper is scrapbook paper with a wash of brown watercolor to age it and give it water spots.

The curtain rods are toothpicks with beads glued on the ends, painted gold. The curtains are scraps of lace cut to size with a wash of gray watercolor to dirty them.

I also dry-brushed brown acrylic onto the rocking chair and piano to age them. I used the same technique on the pumpkins, mostly to dull them because they were originally really bright.

The fence is made from popsicle sticks cut in half and wooden coffee stirrers.

The lichen on the roof is reindeer moss from Dollar Tree. The dead grass is Spanish moss from dollar tree. The stone walkway is made from garden stones found at -- you guessed it -- Dollar Tree and painted various colors because they were originally all white.

#danielle does crafts #miniatures #halloween #spooky season #haunted house

[heartsforrbri]

about me !

hihi! i go by b or bri ! :^)

hobby’s

- scrapbooking

-pen-paling!i have 3 lovely penpals<3

- bracelet/metal jewelry making

- makeup

- fashion

- drawing

movies/shows

- the karate kid

- the outsiders

- avatar and avatar 2 (blue people)

- total drama island

- clone high

- castle in the sky

- howls moving castle

- whisper of the heart

- bottoms 2023

music

i am enjoyer of all kinds of music… including some country! blagh

i usually listen to songs rather than keep up with artists. some artists that i do enjoy would be mitski, twice, lana del ray, lady gaga, beabadobee, lamp, glass animals, wham!, and many more!!

other interests (norm core)

- THE LAST OF US !!!!

- calico critters

- style savvy (ALL THE GAMES BBY)

-pink!!

- sanrio

- toro inoue

- sonny angels

- tamagotchis

- sinjin drowning (fan since 2018 baby!)

- cheerleading sideline and all star

-ongoing!!

other interests (not as norm core …)

-k-pop.

- THE LAST OF US

-the troubled teen industry, the elan school for example

-triangle shirtwaist factory

-delta p

-prion diseases

-ongoing!!!

#aboutme #sanrio #toro inoue #calico critters #sonny angel #pen pals #mitski #studio ghibli #tlou #sinjin drowning #kalynn koury #weston koury #style savvy styling star #gal #style savvy

[gemwing2010]

It’s November 5th, Bonfire Night over at the U.K. And, this year, our good friend, Spyro the Dragon has returned to the Forgotten Realms to celebrate by visiting the Fireworks Factory to watch the fireworks will all of his friends.

Until everyone arrives with some supplies for an evening barbecue and some s’mores, Spyro decided to take a photo to for his scrapbook.

📸

Now, with that taken care of, he and Sparx now need to find a good spot with an awesome view to watch the fireworks.

🎇🎆

#Spyro Reignited Trilogy #Spyro the Dragon

[thewnchstrs]

Sin City

Pairing: Winchester!Sister (OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie investigate a rash of violent deaths in Elizabethville, Ohio, a once-sleepy town that has become a haven for gamblers and drinkers.

Disclaimers: death, mentions of suicide, blood, gun violence, implied smut, mentions of gambling, drinking

Word Count: 9.9K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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

In the light streaming through the large window in Bobby’s study, I narrowed my eyes at the small metal workings of the Colt. Using tweezers, I bent and shaped them the same way shown in a diagram Bobby laid in front of me.

Dean was to my right, using a bunsen burner to melt together different pieces of metal that would eventually be part of the chamber. Bobby was across from us, examining a similar diagram.

“Hey,” Sam called out as he returned to the house, the screen door clanging shut behind him. There was the sound of a pile of books being dropped onto Bobby’s kitchen table.

“Hey, what's up?” Dean asked without looking up.

“Might've found some omens in Ohio,” Sam said. I glanced over my shoulder as he leaned up against the doorway. “Dry lightning, barometric-pressure drop.”

“Well, that's thrilling,” I said sarcastically, going back to the gun.

“Plus, some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out. Might be demonic omens.”

I frowned, “Or it could just be a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker.”

Sam shrugged, “Yeah, but it's our best lead since Lincoln.”

“Where in Ohio?” Dean asked.

“Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the rust belt.”

Dean sighed, “There’s got to be a demon or two in South Beach.”

“Sorry, Hef. Maybe next time,” Sam chuckled, narrowing his eyes at the disassembled Colt in Bobby’s hands. “How's it going, Bobby?”

“Slow,” he said simply.

“I tell you, it's a little sad seeing the Colt like that,” Dean said.

Bobby nodded along, “Well, the only thing it's good for now is figuring out what makes it tick.”

“So what makes it tick?” Sam asked. Dean and I hid our smirks from Bobby who shot Sam a deadly glare.

Dean and I stood from our chairs, gathering our things, “So, if we want to go check out these omens in Ohio…you think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?”

I held back laughter as Bobby’s glare shifted from Sam to Dean, “Well, it won't kill demons by then, but I can promise you it'll kill you.”

“Aww,” I cooed. “He’s so cute when he threatens us.”

Dean laughed before advancing toward the front door, “Alright, come on, we're wasting the daylight.”

“See you, Bobby,” I called over my shoulder.

“Hey!” He yelled after us. We stopped, turning back to him. "You kids run into anything — anything — you call me.” Sam nodded once before we were out the door.

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

Elizabethville, Ohio

Elizabethville, Ohio was exactly what I expected it to be: small, religious and full of people who liked to gossip. Eyes from every direction were immediately pulled to the Impala when we rolled into town, especially when we parked in front of the chapel where a local had killed himself just days ago.

“There's not much left for the insurance company. It was a suicide - I saw it myself,” Father Gil said. He was a middle aged man, tall and slender with white streaks of hair forming at his temples.

“Well, this shouldn't take long, then,” Dean said.

I glanced around the inside of the chapel, admiring the stained glass windows and rows of dusty blue pews. I followed Father Gil’s line of sight up to an upper level above a large cross.

“That's where Andy did it,” he said, sadly. I felt for him, I did. Seeing something like that, it changes someone forever. I glanced sideways at him before looking back up to the balcony where I swore I could still see the smatterings of blood that’d been missed in the cleanup. “It’s the first time I'd seen him in weeks. He used to come every Sunday.”

“When did he stop?” Sam asked.

“Probably about...two months ago? Right around the time everything else started to change.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Change how?”

Father Gil tore his eyes from the balcony, looking back at us, “Oh, let's just say this used to be a town you could be proud of. People…cared about each other. Andy sang in the choir, and then one day, he just...wasn't Andy anymore. It was like he was…”

“Possessed?” Sam suggested.

Father Gil nodded slowly as if that was what he’d wanted to say but was too afraid to say it, “You could say that. Gambled away his money, cheated on his wife, destroyed his business. Yes, like a switch had flipped.”

“Father, did you know the man who killed those folks in the hobby shop?” I asked.

He nodded, “Sure, Tony Perkins. Good man.”

“Besides all the murder stuff, right?” I said, making the priest hesitate.

“Um…yes. Besides that.”

“Would you say that his personality suddenly changed one day, too?” Dean asked this time.

“I never thought about it that way, but...yes. about the same time as Andy — about two months ago.”

Sam, Dean and I shared a look before Dean clicked his pen and closed his notebook, putting it back into the pocket of his suit jacket, “Well, thank you, Father. Appreciate your time.”

Father Gil gave us one final nod before we parted ways. Dean leaned toward Sam and I, lowering his voice, “Two months ago, we open up the devil's gate, all of a sudden this town turns into Margaritaville? It's no coincidence.”

I definitely didn’t like the sound of it, but I couldn’t deny he was probably right.

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

I adjusted my duffle bag on my shoulder as Dean unlocked the motel room door. From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a large man eyeing me from a few doors down, smirking, revealing missing teeth. I grimaced, turning my back on him, sighing with relief when Dean finally got the door open.

Sam flicked the light on and the first thing I noticed was the large mirror covering every inch of the ceiling. Dean chuckled, looking up at it.

“I hate this already,” I groaned, throwing my duffle bag anywhere but on the bed.

Dean moved to the door, going to close it when he stopped, “Richie? I don't believe it.”

I furrowed my brow, looking around Dean toward the room across from us where a short man in a fedora and athletic jacket was now standing in the hallway. A twinge of familiarity pinged my gut.

“Hey, Dean...Winchester, right?” Richie said, reaching out his hand.

“Yeah!” Dean said excitedly before motioning to me. “You remember Ellie, right?”

“Ellie! The little pistol with a pistol,” he laughed in a thick New Jersey accent and instantly, I recalled where we knew him from.

I laughed, “Hey, Richie.”

A woman appeared behind him, coming from his motel room. She was tall and blonde wearing a tank top that was cut so low it revealed her entire chest without actually flashing anything at us. She rested her arm against the doorframe beside Richie’s head, her other hand on her hip.

“This is my sister, uh, Cheryl,” Richie chuckled as he reached into his pockets. He pulled out a wad of cash, handing it to her. She shoved it in between her boobs before walking back down the hallway. Dean and Richie watched her walk away as Richie chuckled again. “Well, you know…stepsister.”

“Come on in,” Dean laughed, motioning to Sam. “This is my brother, Sam.”

“Hey. How you doing?”

“Not too bad,” Sam said, shutting the door, smiling in amusement. “How do you three know each other?”

“You were in school,” I recalled as I pulled my hair down from the tight ponytail I’d had it in while we visited the priest.

Richie nodded along, “It was that succubus, in Canarsie right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said as he untucked his dress shirt, throwing his jacket to the bed.

“Oh, man. You should have seen the rack on this broad. Freakin' tragedy when I had to gank her.”

“Whoa, whoa. Wait. Who killed her? If I remember, your ass was toast until I showed up,” Dean corrected.

Richie shook his head, motioning to Dean, “Oh, I forgot what a comedian this guy was.”

“Richie, Richie, know what? I told you then and I'll tell you again — you're not cut out for this job. You're gonna get yourself killed,” Dean said when Richie’s phone began to ring, cutting him off.

“Talk to me,” Richie said into the phone before pulling it away, holding his hand over the speaker. “FYI, Winchester — words hurt.” He brought the phone back to his ear, plopping down onto the couch under the window. “Yeah? No, it's not a good time, babe. Later.”

“So you find anything in this town, anyway?” I asked as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. I pulled the suit jacket off, replacing it with a tan button down.

“Ah, no. I got nothing,” he said. “Oh, wait a minute. You mean as in demons and whatnot?”

I cocked an eyebrow, “Yeah.”

“No, I got nothing.”

“Typical,” Dean said, somewhat sarcastically. “What about your sister back there?”

“Oh, honestly? She definitely had the devil in her, but she wasn't no demon, you know what I'm saying?” He chuckled, Sam, Dean and I watching him silently. Richie coughed, shaking his head as he stood again. “Right. Seriously. Church guy, hobby-shop guy — they were lunch meat by the time I got there. Hey, maybe they were possessed, but I can't prove it.”

Sam nodded along, pulling his tie off, “Yeah, that's where we are, too. You know, let's just say that demons are possessing people in this town. You know, raising hell—”

“Yeah, but why would a demon blow his brains out?” Dean asked, sitting on the end of his bed to pull his shoes off.

“Well, for fun? You know he wrecks one body, moves to another. You know, like taking a stolen car for a joyride,” Richie suggested. I frowned at the idea, but I couldn’t totally dismiss it. It would probably be one of the more reasonable explanations.

“Anybody else left in the town that fits the profile — you know, nice guy turned douche, still breathing?”

Richie leaned up against the dresser, crossing one arm over his body, tapping his finger against his chin as he thought, “There’s Trotter.”

“Who's that?” I asked.

“Well, he used to be head of the Rotary Club. And then people say he turned bastard all of a sudden? Brought in the gambling, the hookers...he practically owns this whole town.”

Sam glanced to Dean and I. It was a start. “Know where we could find him?”

“Oh, he'll be at his bar in a few hours,” Richie said, a smirk spreading over his face.

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

When Dean pulled the car into a busy parking lot just on the edge of town, I was sure Richie had given us the wrong address. The place was crawling with people with drinks in hand.

I glanced around as I stepped out of the car, looking to Sam, “I thought you said this was some boarded-up factory town.”

“It is,” Sam said. “At least, it's supposed to be.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let's do some research,” Dean said excitedly as he began to follow a large group of blonde women down the sidewalk.

Trotter’s bar wasn’t far from where we’d parked, and it was nearly impossible to miss. The place was so packed, people were spilling out onto the street. We maneuvered our way into the building, Run Through the Jungle blaring through the speakers.

I glanced around me at all the different people, all with various types of too-small clothing. They were dancing, taking shots, sipping from their drinks with small straws. It was barely even six in the afternoon.

“Oh, Richie. Look at you,” Dean said once we’d made it toward the bar tops. Richie was dressed in a silky orange and white top with baggy jeans, his hair slicked back with so much gel it looked like he just got out of the shower. “Bringing satin back.”

“Oh, you like this? Try Thai silk — Canal Street. You'd have to pay $300 for threads like these, easy. Cost to me…” he paused, rethinking what he was about to say. “Fuggedaboutit.”

“How much is ‘forget about it’?” Sam chuckled.

“Ah, forget about it,” he dismissed. He leaned toward me, pointing across the bar to a bald man in an all black suit. “That’s Trotter over there. He sits there all night. Can't touch him.”

“So, what do we do now?” I asked.

“I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna do a little investigating with that bartender,” Dean said, staring down the backside of the bartender who was leaning over the counter.

Richie slapped Dean’s arm, “Easy. Me and her, we got a little...somethin' somethin' lined up for later.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief, “Yeah, right.”

“Stings, don't it?” He said. “Alright. I got to hit the head, release the hostages. Be back in a few.”

I laughed as he walked away, shaking my head. There was never a dull moment with Richie. Dean turned back to the bar once he was out of earshot, “No way he gets a girl like that. I mean, look at her. You could fit that ass on a nickel.”

Sam scoffed, “Oh, c’mon, she is so out of your league—”

“You think so?” A voice asked from behind Dean. The three of us turned to where Father Gil was sat at the bar, sipping on a glass of whiskey.

“Oh. Sorry, Padre,” Dean chuckled.

“Knew you boys would find your way here. They all do,” he said to Sam and Dean before furrowing his eyebrows when he looked at me. “You though…didn’t expect you here.”

“I’m full of surprises,” I said simply, making Father Gil shrug and take another sip. I narrowed my eyes at him. “No offense, but what are you doing here, Father?”

“Like it or not, you go where your flock is.”

“Plus,” another voice said. I glanced to my left where, behind the bar, the bartender was pouring herself a shot. “The clergy drinks for free.”

Father Gil nodded, “True, and a certain bartender owes me a confession.”

“Not in this lifetime, Father,” she said, downing the shot.

“I better see your butt on Sunday,” Father Gil pointed to her as he stood, lowering his voice as he spoke to Dean. “Nickel or no nickel.”

Dean chuckled as the priest grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. The bartender leaned over the bar top, “What can I get you three?”

“What's your speciality?” Dean asked, smirking.

“I make a mean hurricane.”

“I guess we'll see about that.”

She smirked, turning away from Dean. Sam laughed, cocking an eyebrow, “You drink hurricanes?”

“I do now,” Dean said, a smile plastered over his face.

I laughed, shaking my head at him as I looked back over my shoulder, scanning the place for a pool table. I might as well make myself useful while I was here and hustle some money from guys that’d had a little too much to drink. That was when I saw it: a man in a white button down talking to another man over the pool table. He was standing stiffly, moving robotically.

I narrowed my eyes at the black object I could just barely see in the man’s hand when it dawned on me. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the man’s gun as I waved at Sam and Dean, nodding toward the man, “Hey.”

Before the word completely passed through my lips, he lifted the gun and shot one round into the man across from him. The crowd of people scattered away instantly, screaming as they ran toward the exit.

Sam, Dean and I ran forward, trying to dodge people running in the other direction like fish swimming upstream. From between two people I could see the man raise the gun to his head.

Dean tackled the man from the side, the gun flying across the floor. Sam ran toward them, sprinkling holy water over the man. I rounded the pool table, finding the man who’d been shot lying on his back.

The bullet wound entered the right side of the man’s chest. I leaned forward over his mouth, listening for any kind of breathing when I felt the ghost of warm air against my face. I quickly shed my jacket, balled it up and held it tightly over the wound.

“Hey, what’re you doing?!” I heard the man shout on the other side of the pool table. “He slept with my wife. That bastard slept with my wife!”

“Somebody call 911!” I shouted, my jacket quickly soaking up the blood. I flipped it over, but even that was no use. Blood was pouring from the wound and down his right arm. I kept my eyes on his stomach, watching as his breathing suddenly became erratic before eventually, it stopped all together.

I looked from his stomach to his face and back to his stomach. I brought two fingers just below his jaw to feel for a pulse, but came back with nothing. I sat back on my haunches, slowly pulling the jacket away. I looked up to Sam who was watching on, sadly. Just behind him was Trotter, stoic as ever.

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

Sam, Dean and I watched from the bar as the cops processed the scene. I looked away from where the coroner laid a white sheet over the man’s body.

“Too many cops here. I say we roll,” Sam said, eager to get out of the bar.

“Just be cool,” Dean said, making Sam slink back onto the barstool. Two cops escorting the shooter walked past, leading him outside. Dean shook his head. “Poor jerk. Only thing possessing him was a sixer of Pabst.”

“So, what's the deal, then? People in this town getting possessed or not?” I asked.

“I don't know. Maybe it is just what it is — town full of scumbags.”

I nodded slowly. It was a possibility, but something in my gut was telling me otherwise, “Yeah. Maybe.”

One of the cops who was processing the scene came up to the three of us. Sam instantly straightened up. “You three ready for your mug shots? The photographer's gonna be here in a few, and…” the officer paused for dramatic effect, “take your picture for the local paper!”

"Be an honor, Officer,” Dean said dramatically. Sam visibly relaxed at the cop’s words. “What a thrill!”

“Yep, time to go,” I said once the cop turned away. Sam followed me up but Dean held out a hand, stopping us.

“Wait a second. Wait a second.”

“What?”

Dean glanced around the bar, eyebrows furrowed, “Where’s Richie?”

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

There was a different bartender once we returned the next night. They seemed pretty eager to open up again even though now it wasn’t nearly as crowded. Dean was dead set on going back to see if Richie would make an appearance, but in the hour we’d been here already, there was no sign of him.

The bartender handed me three beers over the counter. I smiled at him, “Thanks.”

I returned to our table, handing them each a beer. Behind Dean’s head was a waitress dressed in a short, tight red dress. I glanced at Dean who was glued to his phone. I sat down beside Sam, “You do realize there's red meat within striking distance, right?”

“How many times I gotta tell Richie, he's gonna get himself in trouble?” Dean snapped his phone shut, ignoring what I’d said.

“Dean, you're assuming he's missing. I mean, maybe he just bailed,” Sam suggested.

“He's a moron. I mean, he's a sweet moron, but he's not a coward. He wouldn't just bail,” Dean said, and I had to agree with him. We only worked a few cases with Richie but I got the impression he wasn’t one to back down from a fight. “I got to go find him.”

I nodded, “Alright. Meanwhile I think I'm gonna trail this Trotter guy. He gives me weird vibes. In the worst way possible.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I don't know. Something about the way he looked at me last night. Maybe there is something going on here.”

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

Sam and I leaned up against either wall of the long hallway leading down to Trotter’s office. I glanced over my left shoulder toward the glass door where I could see Trotter talking to someone over a desk. That was when Sam’s phone began loudly ringing in his pocket.

I quickly whipped my head out of the hallway, glaring at Sam who frantically pulled his phone from his pocket, bringing it to his ear, “Dean. Yeah. Hey. I can't talk right now.”

There was a beat of silence before Sam spoke again, “Yeah, we're fine. Just, uh...meet us at the bar in twenty minutes, okay?”

Sam snapped the phone shut just as the sound of Trotter’s office door opened and then closed. Mine and Sam’s eyes met briefly before we parted in separate directions.

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

Dean’s POV

I rotated the glass in my hand, glancing over my shoulder every few minutes toward the bar’s door. I glanced at my watch. Sam and Ellie had exactly four more minutes until I went hunting for them.

“I got to tell you—” a voice suddenly said from beside me. I looked up from my watch, an instant smile spreading over my face at the brunette standing beside me. Her low cut pink shirt nearly eye level with me. “Every woman in this place? They want to eat you up.”

I smirked, shrugging, “Well, hey. Anybody could have tackled that guy…and wrestled the gun away…prevented mass murder.”

Her smirk spread wider as she leaned her back against the bar, “Here’s what I'm gonna do. Normally, I charge $400 a night.” I furrowed my eyebrows at this as she leaned into my ear, whispering, “Why don't we call it an even deuce and get the hell out of here?”

I pulled away, my smile faltering, “What do I look like?”

The woman wrinkled her eyebrows, her smile now a grimace, “What do I look like? Cheapskate.”

I watched as the woman walked away. I took a slow sip from my drink as the bartender, Casey, came by, watching the woman leave, “Did I just see you strike out with a prostitute? How's that work?”

“Well, I just told her I had a thing for the bartender. It was pretty easy.”

“Who says the bartender's available?”

“That's a good question. You got something going with some guy, you know, about yea tall, wears a sweatsuit…?”

She narrowed her eyes at me, “Who?”

“Nah. My mistake,” I said, brushing it off. “What do you say you and me grab a drink after your shift?”

Casey leaned over the bar and I had to force my eyes to stay on hers and not her low-cut, red top. “I say why wait...when we can go right now?”

I smirked, grabbing my things and quickly followed Casey out of the bar.

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

Ellie’s POV

“God, they’re taking forever,” I whispered to Sam across the hallway. Trotter and whoever was in there with him still hadn’t left the office after fifteen minutes. “What could they be doing in there?”

“I don’t know,” Sam whispered back. “I just—”

Sam was cut off by the office door opening. We rounded the corner, pressed up against a separate hallway, watching as Trotter and another, younger man took off in the other direction. Once they were out of eyesight, Sam and I quickly made our way to the office.

There were two desks inside, Sam and I each taking one. I pulled open drawers, rifled through papers, opened books until finally I found a small ring of keys when I heard the quiet creak of the door opening behind me.

I ducked, dodging a fist that swung at me. Then, I quickly stood, kneeing the man in the stomach twice. While he was hunched over, I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and held it tight over his head, immobilizing his arms.

Sam grabbed him, punching him twice across the jaw before the man went sprawling to the floor. That’s when I felt a firm grip on my shoulder and cool metal against my temple. I glanced to my right where Trotter was holding the gun to me. “What are you doing here?”

“I think maybe you know,” Sam said, pointing his gun at Trotter. Sam’s eyes bounced from Trotter to me and then back to him.

“Yeah? Well, I think I'm calling the cops!”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Cops?”

“Breaking and entering, assault — you're in a peck of trouble, my friend.”

“Uh, wh-, uh...I think I could probably explain—” I quickly brought my left arm across, bringing his arm down with the gun. I snatched it from his hands and pointed it at Trotter and his partner. “Alright, back up! Get back.”

“Money's in the safe! Take it and go,” Trotter said. He sounded scared.

“We don't want your money,” Sam said as he pulled the holy water from his jacket pocket. “I just got to be sure.”

Sam uncapped the flask and tossed the water onto the two men. I gripped the gun tighter, waiting for their skin to start sizzling, but when it didn’t, I realized we made a mistake. Trotter and his partner wiped the water from their faces, “What kind of psychos are you!?”

Sam and I quickly looked to each other. Sam awkwardly laughed, “Oh, god. uh...I'm sorry. Heh...I...think this was just a minor misunderstanding?”

I chuckled as we began to slowly back out of the office, “Yeah, okay, ummm...how 'bout I just…I just leave, ‘cause…" I opened the gun’s chamber, pouring the bullets into my hand and then set the empty gun onto a stack of books that proceeded to fall. I winced, cringing. “Sorry…I’ll take these. Okay, I'll, uh, I'll leave this for, uh...you, uh...have a nice day?”

Sam and I quickly turned, hurrying out of the building.

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

Dean’s POV

Casey’s house was settled out in the country, at the end of a long dirt road. I glanced around the cellar Casey lead me down into; the place looking like it hadn’t been used in years.

“Looks like the maid's day off,” I chuckled. Casey had her back to me, looking up at the room around us. “Everything okay?”

She turned, grabbing me by the jacket and kissed me softly before pulling away. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I watched as she shrugged her coat off and hung it up across the room. “Oh, I forgot to mention...Richie was a friend of mine. When I realized I could track the GPS in his cellphone, I swung by earlier. Gave him a proper burial.” At this, the demon turned, her lip snarling upward. “It's better than rotting in some skank's basement.”

Casey immediately began to sprint toward me. However, when she was just inches from grabbing me, it was like she hit an invisible wall, making her fall hard to the floor. I was an idiot, sure, but a prepared one. I squatted down and flipped back the carpet, revealing the devils trap I’d painted beneath it.

I clicked my tongue, shaking my head as I stood again, “Isn't that a buzz kill? Sorry, sister, but you're going back to where you came from.”

I pulled the book from my jacket, reciting the exorcism.

“I don't think so,” Casey said as she stood.

“Spiritus immunde, undolara. Pasonitote…"

The room began to shake under our feet until it was the entire building. Lights flickered, dust began dropping down from the ceiling. A harsh wind blew hard and fast through the room so violently the pages from the book were ripping out and scattering.

“Spiritus immunde, undo—” I tried again, yelling over the noise but it was no use. The pages of the book were flipping on their own. Then, a loud crack came from the ceiling followed by the sound of stone and concrete crumbling to the floor. I shielded myself as the debris fell until the entrance to the basement was completely blocked. Once the dust had settled, I pulled my head from the crook of my arm.

Casey was laughing now, her grin spread across her entire face.

“What are you laughing at, bitch? You're still trapped.”

“So are you…bitch."

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

Using a tall candle I’d found that’d rolled under some tables, I lit the rest of the candles around the room, illuminating the small area we were trapped in. I searched around the dusty floor for my book that’d gone flying.

“Lose something?” Casey asked from behind me.

“All you demons have such smart mouths,” I said.

“It's a gift.”

“Yeah, well. Let's see if you're smiling when I send your ass back to Hell.”

“Without your little exorcism book? Hey, go ahead.”

“Spiritus immunde...un, guh…” I paused, racking my brain for the rest of the exorcism.

“Having a little trouble there, sport?” Casey mocked.

I cleared my throat, beginning again, “Spiritus immunde, undolare, Pasonitote…”

“Nice try, but I think...you just ordered a pizza,” she smirked. “Guess you should have paid more attention in Latin class.”

“Hey, I don't know what you're smiling about. You're not going anywhere.”

“And, apparently, neither are you.”

I stalked toward the edge of the basement to where there was a smidge of moonlight coming from a tall grate. “Yeah, but I got people coming for me, and, uh...they did pay attention in class.”

“Oh, right — Sam. Everyone says he's the brains of the outfit.”

I paused, look at her over my shoulder, “Everyone?”

“Sure. And little Ellie. Hell-bound pretty soon, right? You Winchester kids are famous. Not Lohan famous, but, you know…"

“Well, that's...flattering. I'll be sure to let Sam know when he gets here,” I said, going back to examine the grate.

“If he shows up first,” she said. I furrowed my eyebrows. “What, you thought I was flying solo? You shouldn't underestimate, Dean, it might be the death of you.”

I turned, taking a step toward her at the mention of others who are working with her.

She crossed her arms over her chest, “You can give me hard eyes all you want, but the fact remains, we just have to wait and see who shows up first — the cavalry...or the Indians.”

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

Ellie’s POV

“Sam, maybe he went to the wrong bar or something, I’m sure he’s fine,” I tried to reassure but it only seemed to be making Sam more nervous. We’d been waiting for Dean for the better part of an hour and Sam was convinced something was wrong.

“Something doesn’t feel right, Ellie, I can feel it,” he said, glancing over his shoulder toward the door for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Remember that one time we couldn’t find Dean for like three hours and it turned out he went on a bender with a chick named Monica and her band…god, what was the name of it again?”

Sam chuckled softly, “The Badgers.”

“The Badgers!” I repeated, shaking my head. “What a god awful name…listen, Dean’s fine. I know it.”

I watched Sam, who still didn’t look convinced. I sighed, tapping my fingers against the bar top, trying to come up with something to loosen Sam up a bit when a voice came from a few stools down.

“You look kind of tense,” a woman with dark hair and a low-cut pink top said to Sam. Her lipstick was bright red, smudged at the corners. “You know, I know a surefire way to relax.”

Sam grimaced, “Maybe later.”

“Excuse me. Hi,” I said, getting the bartenders attention. I only had one real idea to ease Sam’s mind. This was a different bartender, not the cute girl from before but a heavyset guy with sweat stains on his armpits.

“What can I get for you?” He asked.

“Hey, you remember the guy we were with last night?” I questioned. “We sat right here…”

The bartender nodded, “Right, the big hero who jumped on Reggie.”

I ran my tongue over the edge of my teeth, refraining from rolling my eyes, “Yeah, yeah the big hero. Have you seen him around at all today?”

The bartender shrugged, resting his palms on the counter, “Maybe. Depends.”

“D-depends on what?” Sam asked, making the bartender smirk. “Oh my — ! Does everyone around here have their hand out?”

“Just give him the money,” I said, shaking my head as he passed it over the bar.

“He left with Casey about an hour ago,” the bartender said.

I widened my eyes slightly, “So he was here?”

“Any idea where they went?” Sam asked at the same time.

“Her place...for Bible study.”

Sam shot me the I told you so look. “Alright, you got an address?”

“What's wrong with you? You think I'm gonna give you a co-worker's address, just so you can go over there and get your freaky peeping-tom rocks off—” the bartender went on when Sam handed him another twenty dollar bill. The bartender plucked it from between Sam’s finger. “Corner of Piermont and Clinton. Have fun.”

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

Dean’s POV

I huffed as I threw down a tall crate, pushing it against the wall beside us where a metal grate was situated on the ceiling. I stepped up onto it, flipped my phone open and held it up toward the breezy night air, desperately searching for a signal.

“Why don't you relax?” Casey said from where she was lounging on the ground, her legs stretched in front of her and her palms propping her up on the devils trap.

“Why don't you kiss my ass?” I snapped the phone shut. It was no use. I reached up, trying with all my strength to move the grate away but it hardly budged.

“Why, Dean, you're a poet. I had no idea. Look, we won't have any effect on the outcome of this. We might as well be civil.”

“Civil, huh?” I said, glancing down at her. “Killing Richie — that was, that was civil? The guy was harmless.”

“That knife he pulled on me didn’t look so harmless.”

“A knife wouldn't hurt you.”

“No, but it would damage this body. And Casey has such a fine body, I wouldn't want to see it ripped.”

I chuckled humorlessly, “A demon with a heart. Wow. Well, you know, there's a bunch of dead people in town that might disagree with you.”

“Hey, I didn't pull any triggers.”

“Yeah? You did something,” I mumbled as I stepped back down into the basement.

“You want to know what I did — what I really did?” She said. I glanced over at her. “I had lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Me and Trotter. He had a cheeseburger, I had a salad, and I just pointed out the money that could be made with a few businesses that cater to harmless vice.” I wrinkled my eyebrows at her words. “So Trotter built it, and, man, did they come. Supposedly God-fearing folk, waist-deep in booze, sex, gambling. I barely lifted a finger.”

I cocked an eyebrow, “That's it?”

“You don't get it. All you got to do is nudge humans in the right direction. Some whiskey here, a hooker there, and they'll walk right into Hell with big, fat smiles on their faces. Your kind is corrupt, Dean. Weak. Our will's stronger. That's why we'll win.”

“And that's how it ends?”

Casey looked up at me, letting a beat of silence pass as she smirked, “No. That's how it begins.”

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

Ellie’s POV

The address given to us by the bartender lead us to a house situated just outside of the busy downtown streets, nestled far back into a small patch of woods. Sam rolled the car to a stop as we glanced up at it.

“You know,” I began as we approached the house, “I’ve never hoped we’d catch Dean hooking up with a girl in my entire life.”

From the porch, we could clearly see inside the brightly lit house. I reached for the door handle, and to my surprise it slowly creaked open. I looked up to Sam, shrugging before we stepped inside.

“Dean?” Sam called out as we made our way around the first floor. Nothing seemed particularly out of place. Dishes were sat drying by the sink, a book was laid face down on the coffee table, shoes were left forgotten by the front door.

I was beginning to think we’d made a mistake, that Dean really had just abandoned his post to shack up with some bartender.

“Sam, maybe we’re just being paranoid,” I whispered, now worried we just broke into an innocent girls house.

Sam nodded slowly as he picked up a picture frame before setting it back down but not before spotting a small yellow pile of what looked like powder on the side table.

My heart sank at the familiar substance. I watched as Sam stuck a finger into it and lightly sniffed it, confirming what my gut was telling me it was. “Sulfur.”

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

Dean’s POV

“So, demons take over,” I said, sitting on the floor across from Casey. At this point I was just entertaining myself as I waited for the help I was hoping would be coming fast. “I thought ‘the meek shall inherit the earth’.”

“Oh, according to your Bible,” she said. “It's only a book, Dean.”

“Not everyone would agree.”

“Because it's God's book?” She questioned before narrowing her eyes at me. “Do you believe in God, Dean? I'd be surprised if you did.”

I shrugged, “I don't know. I'd like to.”

“Well, I don't see how you and your God, have done such a bang-up job. War, genocide — it's only getting worse. I mean, this past century, you people racked up a body count that amazed even us. It's our turn now, and we're gonna do it right this time.”

I watched her, unable to dispute everything she was saying. There were some truth to her words. A loud thud came from above us then. My head whipped upward, quickly coming to my feet as I gazed back up at the grate again.

“Don’t be hopeful, Dean. You're not delivered,” Casey said from behind me. “It's only the wind.”

My shoulders dropped, wondering where the hell Sam and Ellie were.

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

Ellie’s POV

I yanked open the bar door, Sam close on my heels as he spoke into his phone, leaving Bobby a voicemail, “Bobby, It's Sam. We got a big problem. I found some sulfur, and now we can't find Dean. Call me as soon as you get this.”

I spotted the bartender from across the room where he was polishing a glass. I slammed my palms down onto the bar-top. The bartender perked an eyebrow, watching me. “Hey, they weren't there.”

“I guess you got to catch your jollies another night,” he smirked before turning back to the bar and grabbed a shot glass. “Here. Why don't you have a drink...and relax?”

“Yeah, I don't want to relax!” I nearly shouted. “What is it with the people in this town?”

“Suit yourself, princess,” the bartender said as he downed the shot.

I shook my head, turning away from the man and throwing my arms out to Sam who was looking further down the bar, “Father.”

I followed his line of sight where Father Gil was nursing a glass. He smiled up at Sam and I, “Yes?”

Sam glanced to me, the two of us having a silent conversation. We knew him and Casey were somewhat close, maybe he’d know a thing or two about where they could be.

Sam cleared his throat, “Um...can we, can we talk to you for a sec?”

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

Dean’s POV

I paced the small length of the cellar, “You know, you're piling it pretty high there, sweetheart. I'm not sure I'm buying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“Demons lie.”

Casey stood, “Some do. Some are true believers.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at her, “Believers in what?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What, you think humans have an exclusive on a higher power?”

I paused, “You have a god?”

“Sure. His name's Lucifer.”

“You mean the Devil?”

“Your word, not ours,” she said. “Lucifer actually means ‘light bringer’. Look it up. ‘Once he was the most beautiful of all God's angels, But God demanded that he bow down before Man, and when he refused, God banished him.’” She recited. “Tell me, Dean. How do you like bowing before lesser creatures?”

I watched her, more in shock than anything. I continued pacing around the devils trap. “Lucifer's really real?”

Casey hesitated for a split second, “Well, no one's actually seen him, but they say that he made us into what we are, and they say that he'll return.”

“Oh, yeah? And, uh, you believe that?”

“I've got faith,” she said. I hummed at the irony of these demons worshiping a god. “So, you see? Is my kind really all that different than yours?”

“Well, except that, uh, demons are evil.”

“…and humans are such a lovable bunch. Dick Cheney,” she gave as an example.

“He one of yours?”

A smirk played at Casey’s lips, “Not yet. Let's just say he's got a parking spot reserved for him downstairs.”

I continued around the room, a question nagging me at the base of my skull, one I wasn’t sure I wanted answered. “Hey, speaking of downstairs...what's it like down there?”

“What, Hell?” She asked. Suddenly I wished I could’ve taken it back. Casey eyed me. “That's right. Your sister booked a one-way ticket with that deal. She’s not gonna like it, Dean. And, um, judging from the trouble she’s caused, I don't think she’ll be getting the presidential suite.”

I glanced up at her from across the room.

“No, it's a pit of despair,” she said. Something told me she was telling the truth. “Why do you think we want to come here?”

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

Ellie’s POV

“So, the, the bartender the other night, Casey. You know her pretty well?” Sam asked as we sat beside Father Gil at the bar.

“Since she was in pigtails,” Father Gil confirmed.

“Well, um, she and our brother, they, uh…they...left, tonight,” I said, trying to explain our situation without having to outright say it. “Together.”

“Ah,” Father Gil nodded. “Well…not that I approve, but they are consenting adults.”

“Right-”

“I, I'm sorry. You said ‘brother’. I thought the three of you were insurance investigators?”

I quickly looked to Sam for some back up, “Right, right. Well, well we are. Um, it's like, it's like a family business, you know?”

“Ah,” Father Gil said again, still looking slightly puzzled.

I quickly changed the subject back to the pressing issue at hand, “Anyways, we went to Casey's apartment, and they weren't there. I- I just have this feeling that they...that they might be in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Just…trouble,” I said, knowing I couldn’t say too much unless I wanted to end up in a padded room. “Look, please, Father, we need your help. Is there anything you could tell us about Casey — anyplace she'd go, maybe?”

“Yes, there is a place. Let me get my jacket.”

Sam quickly held his hand out to Father Gil, “No, wait, wait, wait, Father. We can do this by ourselves-”

“Son, if Casey's really in trouble, then there's nothing to talk about,” he said. Sam and I shared another look as Father Gil stood from the bar and slid on his black coat. He looked back at us, eyebrows raised. “Shall we go?”

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

Dean’s POV

“Kind of funny, don't you think?” Casey said after a long silence had passed between us. I lifted one of my eyelids. “You and me sitting here like a couple of regular folk.”

“Yeah, it's hilarious, you know, in that…apocalyptic sort of way.”

“You're alright, Dean. The others don't describe you that way. But, you know, you're — you're likable.”

I scoffed, shaking my head, “A demon likes me…sorry, I don't know how to respond to that.”

“You could say thanks,” she suggested. I leaned my head back against the wall behind me, letting myself drift off again.

“That deal your sister made to save Sam — a lot of others would mock her for it, think it was weak or stupid. I don’t.”

I thought about it the way I had been for months at this point. How desperate Ellie was to bring Sam back, how nothing I could’ve done would’ve stopped her from doing it short of getting to the crossroads myself first.

“Still, a year left,” Casey went on as if I needed reminding. “She seems pretty well rounded for someone who’s hellbound.”

“Will you shut up already?” I said, wanting her to drop the subject more than anything. I kept my eyes closed as Casey scoffed and mumbled something under her breath.

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

Ellie’s POV

Father Gil’s old station wagon rattled even at the less than urgent pace he was driving through the town.

“So, insurance investigating,” Father Gil said after a while of silence. He glanced at Sam in the passenger seat and then to me in the rearview mirror. “You guys enjoy the work?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I like being able to help people.”

“Ever think about doing anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Mmm, anything. You seem like a pretty smart kid. Somehow I see you out in front of the pack. You could do some great things.”

My eyes bounced from Father Gil to Sam who only shrugged, “I don't know. I like doing what I'm doing, I guess.”

“How about you?” He asked, watching me in the mirror.

I shifted on the cloth backseat, “I mean, it’s not easy but we do good work.”

“We’ll that’s what’s important,” he said. “So, Dean…does he find trouble often?”

Sam nodded, chuckling, “Yeah. Yeah, Dean finds his fair share.”

“Well, it's a good thing he has you two — his brother's keeper.”

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

Dean’s POV

I watched as Casey stretched out across the devils trap in front of me. Laying on her back she reached her arms long and far above her head, arching her back.

“Why, Dean, if I didn't know better, I'd say that was lust in your eyes,” she said making me quickly look away. “Well, it would be one way to spend the time…but I don't think you'd respect me in the morning.”

“That's okay. I mean, hey, I barely respect you now,” I said, smiling. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Casey rolled over to her side, resting her head in her palm, “I'm an open book.”

“So, the gate opened. The demon army was let out. What now, huh? I'm not seeing a big, honking plan here.”

“Honestly, there was a plan. Azazel was a tyrant, but…he held us all together.”

I furrowed my eyebrows as Casey sat up, “Azazel?”

“What, you think his friends just called him ‘yellow eyes’? He had a name. After you did him in, it all fell apart.”

I suppressed a smirk, “Sorry about that. So, what? No chain of command?���

“There was. It was Sam,” she said. I thought about how close we were to losing him, how with one misstep we could’ve ended up in a much worse position. “Sam was supposed to be the grand pooh-bah and lead the big army, but…he hasn't exactly stepped up to the plate, has he?"

“Thank God for that.”

“Again with God,” she laughed. “You think this is a good thing? Now you've got chaos, a war without a front, hundreds of demons all jockeying for power, all fighting for the crown. Most of them gunning for your brother. For the record, I was ready to follow Sam. He was all the talk around town. All three of you were.”

I shook my head at her words and Casey narrowed her eyes at me, “What the demons wouldn’t give to get their hands on you, Dean Winchester.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, entertaining her. “Why me?”

“Why you?” She asked seriously. “You killed their one and only leader. They were so furious with you they couldn’t wait for you to go selling your soul like some crack whore. You’re the one they all placed their bets on to bring Sam back.”

I sat up a little straighter at her words, “So, all the demons in this…army, want my head on a stick?”

“You bet,” she said. “When Ellie beat you to the punchline the demons were disappointed. But hey, one’s better than none am I right?”

My mind began to race, going a million miles an hour. How had I not thought of this before?

“So, these crossroad deals,” I began, “they’re set in stone?”

Casey’s eyes danced over me as if she knew where I was going with this. “Depends what you’re bringing to the table. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

My heart rate quickened at the thought of maybe getting Ellie out of her deal: by giving the demons what they’ve wanted all along.

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

Ellie’s POV

Finally, after what felt like hours, Father Gil’s car rolled to a stop outside of what looked like a monastery that hadn’t been occupied in decades. Green vines snuck their way up and down the outside, windows were smashed.

“Dean?!” I shouted once we got out of the car, rounding the building. “Dean!”

“You go that way,” Sam instructed Father Gil. Sam and I rounded the building, still calling his name when suddenly and faintly, we heard a shout back.

“Ellie!” It yelled. “Sam! Down here!”

Sam and I quickly followed Dean’s voice to a small grate hidden under tall grass. Once we pushed it away, we could clearly see him looking up at us. “Dean?”

“The basement caved in!”

I sighed in relief knowing that he was okay, “Hey, hold on, okay? We're coming. We’re here with the Father.”

We watched as Dean glanced over his shoulder before looking back up at us, “Be careful.”

Sam and I stood from the ground, turned to go back to the front of the building when the sight of Father Gil blocking our way stopped us.

“Father Gil?” Sam called to him. He only smiled back, his eyes turning black.

We hardly had time to react when a gunshot rang through the air and blew the head off of an angel statue just inches from Father Gil.

Sam and I quickly looked to our right where Bobby was standing a few yards away, the Colt in hand. Father Gil simply turned, and with a flick of his hand threw Bobby across the lawn and into concrete column.

Sam reached around him for our only defense on us: a small flask of holy water when the demon threw us through the air too. I landed hard on my back on the hood of Father Gil’s car, the unmistakable sound of glass from the windshield crunching under my weight.

Sam slowly stood from the ground beside the car where he’d been thrown. I slowly rolled off the car, the two of us quickly making our way to Bobby who was sitting up, looking around.

“Bobby, you alright?” Sam asked. Bobby only nodded. “How did you know where we—”

Bobby cut Sam off, shoving the Colt into his hands, “Go!”

“You heard the man,” a voice from behind us said. I turned, confused to a blonde woman standing beside the car. “Go.”

“Who the hell are you?” I questioned when Sam put a hand on my shoulder, steering me back toward the monastery.

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

Dean’s POV

I waited impatiently in the basement after what sounded like a gun going off outside when dust began to filter in through the caved in stairs. The debris was shifting, someone pushing down on it until finally they made their way through, Father Gil stumbling into the basement.

His black eyes were the first thing I saw. I ran toward him but only made it a few steps before I was flung backwards across the room and thrown against the far wall.

I groaned, holding my side as Father Gil and Casey locked eyes. He advanced toward her when she held her hands out to him in a warning, “Stop!"

He abruptly halted, looking down at the devils trap peeking from under the rug Casey was standing on. Father Gil kneeled, brought his fist up and slammed it down into the concrete, successfully breaking the trap.

Casey beamed, embracing him before they began full-on making out. I stumbled to my feet, eyebrows cinched, “You two?”

“For centuries,” Father Gil said when they finally pulled away. “We've been to hell and back. Literally.”

Suddenly, he reached his hand out, grasping me by my throat as he lifted me from the ground.

“Leave him be. Don't kill him,” Casey begged him. I brought my own hand up, trying to pry his hand away. “Let's just go. Please.”

Father Gil glanced at her just as black spots started to float around my vision. I kicked my legs, praying for a miracle. That was when a shot rang out through the room. I instantly dropped to the floor, holding my throat, watching Father Gil fall to the floor as the demon inside him flickered red. A gunshot in the middle of his chest.

Sam was standing at the bottom of the stairs, the Colt in hand, Ellie right beside him. I watched as Sam cocked the Colt again, this time at Casey.

“Sam, wait!” I shouted, but I wasn’t quick enough. The bullet hit Casey square in the middle of her stomach, sending her sprawling to the ground beside Father Gil.

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

Ellie’s POV

“Well, what do you think, Bobby?” I said as we stepped from the diner and onto the bustling sidewalk. Somehow we’d convinced Sam and Dean to take care of the bodies left behind at the monastery. “About what we did here, you think it made a difference?”

Bobby shrugged, “Two less demons to worry about. That's not nothing.”

I narrowed my eyes over at him against the sun beating down on us, “Yeah, but Trotter's still alive.”

“Humans ain't our job,” he said simply.

I nodded slowly as we began to cross the road. I looked around at the people in Elizabethville who still looked as lost as ever, “Yeah, but you think anything's really gonna change? I mean maybe these people do just want to really destroy themselves. Maybe it is a losing battle.”

Bobby stopped me, “Is that you or that demon girl talking?”

“Oh, it's me. Demon is dead, and so is that hot girl it was possessing.”

“Well, had to be done,” he said. “Sam was saving Dean’s life.”

“Yeah, but you didn't see it, Bobby. It was cold,” I said. Something in Sam’s eyes in that moment made my stomach turn. I couldn’t help but think about what the yellow eyed demon had said to me back at the Devil’s Gate. Something I tried so hard to brush off but couldn’t seem to. “Bobby.”

“Yeah?”

I hesitated, digging my nails into my palm, “Back in Wyoming…there was this moment. Yellow Eyes said something to me.”

Bobby suddenly looked concerned, “What'd he say?”

I swallowed roughly, knowing that saying it out loud would make it all the more real, “That maybe when…Sam came back from well, wherever…that maybe he came back different.”

“Different how?”

“I don't know. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good,” I said. “You think…think something's wrong with my brother?”

“No. Demons lie. I'm sure Sam's okay,” he said. But from one bad liar to another, I could see right through it. Bobby seemed to be just as concerned as I was.

I felt my bottom lip being worried between my top teeth as I slowly nodded, trying to convince myself for the time being that I believed what I was saying, “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.”

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

Sam’s POV

I threw my duffel bag onto the top of the motel bed, running my hands down my face when the motel door opened.

“Leaving so soon?” I whipped around to where Ruby was standing in the doorway. I glanced toward the bathroom where I could still hear Dean’s shower running. “We haven't even had a chance to celebrate.”

“Yeah, well you can celebrate without me.”

Ruby rolled her eyes, shutting the door behind her, “You're not gonna get all pouty on me now, are you? Come on! You killed two demons today.”

I watched as she rounded me and sat at the end of Dean’s bed. “Yeah, well, maybe you don't care, but I killed two humans, too.”

“Sam, you know what happens when demons piggyback humans. They leave them rode hard and put up wet. Chances are those two would have died a slow, sticky death. You probably did them a favor.”

“Did them a favor? You're a cold bitch, you know that?”

“Yeah, and this cold bitch has saved your ass a couple of times now. Some respect would be nice,” she spat. I turned back to my duffel bag, throwing my shirts inside when I spotted the Colt, sitting on the bed. “Especially if you want me to help you out with Ellie and her little problem.”

I gripped the Colt behind me as I turned back to her, “You know what? You keep dangling that, but last I checked, Ellie’s still going to Hell.”

“Everything in its own time, Sam. But there’s a quid pro quo here. We're in a war.”

"Right. But for some reason, you're fighting on our team. Now, tell me, why is that again?”

“Go screw yourself, that's why.”

“Oh I see,” I said, shaking my head incredulously.

“I don't have to justify my actions to you, Sam. If you don't want my help, fine. Then give me the gun and I'll pass it on to someone who will use it.”

I looked at it in my hand before cocking it and pointing it at her, “Maybe I'll just use it on you.”

“Go ahead, if that makes you happy. It's not gonna do much for Ellie, though,” she said as she stood and took a step forward, letting the barrel of the gun rest at the base of her neck. “So, what's it gonna be, hmm?”

I weighed my options, clenching my jaw once I knew I didn’t have many. She was our only shot, our only chance of getting Ellie out of this deal. I uncocked the gun, and pulled it away from her chest.

“Ah hah. That's my boy,” she smiled. “This won't be easy, Sam. You're gonna have to do things that go against that gentle nature of yours. There'll be collateral damage…but, it has to be done.”

“Well, I don't have to like it.”

“No. You wouldn't be Sam if you did,” she said. I turned my back to her, still gripping tightly onto the gun. “On the bright side, I'll be there with you. That little fallen angel on your shoulder.”

My heart sank, wondering how the hell my life has gotten to this point.

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

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[pastedpast]

This painting is by the artist, Ferdinand Piloty, (?1786-1844?) who painted a stylistically-similar scene of Kriemhild and her mother in the blog post I still haven't completed (link here). It refers to the tragic 12th century love story of Cornish king, Tristan, and Irish princess, Isolde (aka Iseult). The tale was adapted into an opera by Richard Wagner between 1857 and 1859. I like the painting because of the gold background and intricate tree design.

The image is just one of loads of fresh material I have unearthed while making my latest scrapbook. Other items include pictures of lesser-known animals (geunons, gaurs and peccaries); various flowers; different types of fish (glass fish, icicle fish, goatfish); depictions of zodiacal signs (from Krakow's Kupa Synagogue, and Jaipur's Janta Mantar observatory); bizarre illustrations from alchemical manuscripts; Renaissance- and Baroque-era portraits of saints (Barbara, Catherine and Rose of Lima); artworks by Vincent van Gogh; watercolour paintings of fairies, oil paintings of angels, and woodcut renderings of witches; information about bees and bee-keeping; ancient Chinese and medieval European agricultural practices; the history of weather vanes; snippets of info about and paintings by Egon Schiele; the history of the dodo and its genetic relation, the solitaire (now both extinct); a brief history of the factory-village of Port Sunlight (similar to the story of Sir Titus Salt and Saltaire in West Yorkshire, it was built by an industrialist - William Hesketh Lever* - to house his estate workers); an engraving of Hester Prynne and her daughter from Nathaniel Hawthorne's novel 'The Scarlet Letter'; information and illustrations pertaining to the use of runes in the practice of magic; the constellation of Gemini as portrayed in various manuscripts (e.g. the Bedford Book of Hours, and a Turkish treatise on astrology); info about Halley's comet, the Geminid meteor shower, the festivals of Saturnalia and Lupercalia, and a woodcut from a 16th century English Shepherd's Calendar; and portraits and snippets of info about the (sadly, tragic lives) of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, Mary Queen of Scots, Lady Emma Hamilton, Isadora Duncan, Marie Antoinette and Anne Boleyn.

It's a pity I can't mass-produce my scrapbooks, because I reckon they would be bestsellers!

*The Lady Lever Art Gallery in Liverpool was established by WHL after the death of his wife, and is set in the garden village of Port Sunlight, on the Wirral.