#i wont i just want you to mull that over in your head. except imagine it better than the shit on here bc i got better

[snookasnerk]

what if i drew a picture that’d be funny i think

#i wont i just want you to mull that over in your head. except imagine it better than the shit on here bc i got better #imm also incapable of knowing when i just rb something to the wrong blog so enjoy the occasional dumb post

[ashtheamber]

Those Among Us

Hi all! This is the start of a series based around the show Supernatural. It doesn’t follow a set timeline from the seasons but it will follow loosely around certain events from the show. I do not own any of the characters, except those of my own creation. If you like it, please show support! Any feedback is greatly appreciated!

My throat hurts. I haven’t had water in days, no food in what feels like weeks. I can only see out of my right eye; my sight failed in my left eye a few days ago, maybe a week. I lost count of time after my first encounter with Him. God, I wish I knew his name. All I do know is that enough time has passed for the blood around my ankles and wrists to dry on the too-tight leather straps binding me to this chair. The air is stuffy, suffocating. The only sound echoing around me is from a light bulb hanging down in the center of the ceiling, a constant buzz that never ends. No windows at all in this room that could give me just a little breeze for a moment of relief. Only four walls and a lone door surround me, not leaving much for my mind to imagine about to pass time.

My time in this room has been rushed and expanded; some moments it feels as if I have been here for an hour at most while other times it feels like I’ve been at this point for months. My mind deceives me.

I need sleep. I cry at times from having imagined a torture that never actually happened. I scream myself hoarse, my voice cracking around the word ‘help’. Nobody comes. Everything hurts. I can’t think of a single place on my body that the bastard hasn’t sawed and bled out at least once.

He wants names, places, information that I don’t have but he just doesn’t want to take no for an answer. 

The door’s hinges groaned as it swung wide, giving way to the man as he pushed in another cart of torture tools. Dressed in all black, he hummed with every step he took, seemingly enjoying what he did to me. I twisted in my restraints, trying to move away from him without any success. 

“Hello dearest,” he moved a few knives around on the cart top as he spoke, drawing out his words. “Ready to be more compliant?”

I tried to tilt my head to the side but all I could manage was rolling it from one shoulder to the other. Speaking between labored breaths, “I don’t .. know anything.”

He clicked his tongue and picked up one of the many knives, twisting and turning it in the light above his head. “Why do you insist on being like this? Tell me what I want to know and you’re free to walk away.” He glanced down at my exposed legs and waved the tip of the knife, “Or crawl.”

“I’ve told you before .. I don’t know what .. you want.” Speaking was hard to do; my words were slurring together worse than before and it became harder and harder with each breath.

“On the contrary. You have something that I want, and you’re going to tell me or this,” he motioned through the air with the knife, “personal Hell of yours can continue. Completely your choice.”

“I don’t know what you want!” Coughs racked through my chest, making me nearly gag. He walked behind me, trailing the tip of the knife along my shoulders and down the length of my arms. My hands tightened on the edge of the chair arms. “I’ve told you .. that already.”

He trailed the knife down my left arm, twisting the sharp tip into the top of my hand and pressing down ever so slightly. Tears fell in hot tracks down my dirty face as he spoke again. “All you have to do is-”

“I know what I have to do,” I rolled my head to look at him, “the problem is that I can’t.” His face contorted in anger. With a snarl, he picked up the knife and drove it straight down, locking my hand to the chair. Were those my screams? Why couldn’t I feel myself screaming?

“Can’t or wont?!” He braced his hands on either side of me, his face inches from mine. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know anything!” My words mixed with sobs.

“Yes you do you little bitch! You know about Castiel, you learned from him before he went off the map.” His voice was a terrifying low rumble. He turned and picked up another knife from the cart and sent it straight through my other hand. Excruciating, blinding pain. How can I live through any more of this?

Gathering all the strength I could, I spit in his face. “Go .. To.. Hell,” I slurred out.

“Newsflash sweetheart, I run the damn place.” He jerked the knife out of my right hand and trailed it down the side of my face, resting it at the pit of my throat. I could feel the hot trail that the blood left. “Now tell me what I want to hear or I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.” 

“I can’t remember anything!” He gripped the arms of the chair again and leaned in closer, fury evident across his face.

“Oh, bull!”

“I’m not lying .. I promise.” He stared for a long moment before yanking the other knife from my hand and walking back to the cart. I hung my head and momentarily closed my eyes. So much pain. I could hear him moving things around on the top of the cart. Through hooded eyes, I could see the back of his feet in front of me. He didn’t turn around before speaking again.

“I don’t trust promises. They never settled well with me so pardon me if I don’t make an exception for you.”

I nodded weakly. Blood flowed freely from the holes in my hands and didn’t show any signs of stopping.

“Did one of the Winchesters teach you these torture tactics?” 

“Never heard of them.”

“You really are testing my patience here. I’m being nice for once and what do I get in return?” He held up his finger and then pointed it at me. “Don’t answer that.”

I lolled my head up to look at him. “What are you .. going to .. do with me?”

He glanced over his shoulder and sighed. “First, I’m going to figure out how to use this contraption.” He turned; in his hands was what looked like a flattened needle with spikes at the top. “This got handed down to me by a friend of a friend who knew somebody once upon a time. I’ve heard that it can be deadly of not used correctly.” He picked up my pinky finger and pressed the barbed end between my skin and nail. “Just a little bit of pressure and this little nail will pop right off.”

“No! Please, please stop!” Black spots flooded my vision.

“I don’t think so. You’ll tell me everything if it’s the last thing you do.” Finger by finger, he pried and pulled, topping the pain chart inside my body. I felt my body sag and my good eye cloud over. My head dropped, hanging limply. He gripped the hair of the top of my head and snapped my face up. 

“We aren’t finished here, love. You don’t want to miss the fun now do you?” He smiled and pure evil rolled off of him. “Tell me where Castiel is.”

Another sob. “I don’t know who .. that is.” 

His hand made hard contact with my cheek. I could taste blood. “Don’t give me that. He taught you everything he knew this past year- you two were inseparable. My strongest demons couldn’t even get you two apart.”

Demons? What did he mean by that?

I shook my head, breathing shallowly through my mouth. “I spent the last year .. looking for a man .. named Jimmy Novak.” Another coughing fit shook me before I could speak again. “He disappeared a few years back .. so his family hired me .. to track him.” He stood in front of me, mulling over my words.

“And you didn’t find even the slightest trace of him?” I shook my head no as he grabbed a syringe and a vial, holding them both by his sides. 

I continued on. “My best guess is that .. he died. No trace of him .. anywhere .. in the world.” My voice was tremulous. He tilted his head and creases formed on his forehead.

“You truly don’t remember anything, do you? He must have swiped everything from you.” He hmphed and shook his head., a cocky smile plastered on his face. “You naive little flea bag. If only you knew what I know.”

He shook the vial between two fingers and the dark substance inside sloshed around. “Anything else you want to share here? I’m all ears.”

Nothing came out of my mouth. More tears flowed but it was hard to register them there.

He tsked and drew the substance out of the vial, filling up the syringe and pointing it at me. “That’s a shame. Truly, it is.” He slowly walked to my side and twisted my arm so that the veins showed underneath the leather straps. He placed the needle against my skin. “I had big plans for you Kinley.” He pushed the needle under my skin and a moment later I felt the substance in my veins. It burned like fire but moved like cement, slowly spreading towards my shoulder. I screamed and begged him to make it stop. He waltzed back to the cart and tossed the syringe on top before pulling the door open. 

“See you in Hell, sweet cheeks.” My body felt like a fire had replaced my blood, pumping and searing through my body. The last thing I saw was the man standing in the doorway, brushing off the sleeves of his jacket. His whistling was the last thing I heard before everything around me went black from the fire inside me.

#supernatural #fanfic #fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #those among us #writing #crowley

[intothequirkysphere-blog]

I'm a hopeless romantic. A sappy writer. And a die hard fan of fairytales to top it all. So you could just imagine the crazy quilt of stories stitched around my mishmash brain. My mind is basically a hodgepodge of scenarios I created just to meet the yearning of the hopeless romantic inside of me. You could look inside of my brain and find stacks and piles of imagination tapes I repeatedly play just to make myself a little too excited to the idea of meeting my Prince Charming. I've fantasized that ideal meeting over a thousand times, mulling it over everytime I take a shower and letting the imagination lull me to sleep every night. Of course I'm full aware of the fact that reality doesn't come with background music and slowmos. But still, I take pleasure in believing about a fairytale kind of meeting with my star-crossed lover. People tend to snuff me out of my fantasies by convincing me that love is far from the fairytales I'm fond of. They say that I shouldn't exaggerate it and I should refrain from reading too much novels and watching romantic films 'cause it just poison my naive brain. Little did they know that I am no stranger to this reality-based perspective. It just so happens that I choose to not let go of that dreamy little girl inside of me who has always been a believer of magic wands, fairy dust and others of that ilk. Because that's just the way I am. When God made me I think He accidentally poured out and emptied the "dreamy and romantic" flour sack swooshing all the dust in the pot. Followed by His "Oops" and "Oh well. I think a little too much of that wouldn't hurt". Then poof. Here I am. Giggling, weeping, and being a fan of every love story I've heard of and encountered as I shamble through life. I've created ideal scenarios in my head as to how I would meet the guy of my dreams. But I'm not really expecting any of that scenarios to actually happen. I'm hopeful, but far from being expectant. And so when I actually did meet him, I was caught off guard, unprepared like a weaponless soldier caught in battle. So how did I meet him? And how would a hopeless romantic, overly dramatic, sappy writer like myself who already had it all planned out handled a situation beyond her control? Well to be honest, I did nothing. All I could remember is that I'm walking on the sidewalk and somehow a cosmic shift or whatsoever happened outside the realm of my knowing and then voilà! I met him. Yes. I met the love of my life on the sidewalk, one typical Saturday afternoon. You could imagine it as like this: I was walking alone and along the way I bumped into this guy, eyes finding a way to lock his, cue background music, and cherry blossoms or autumn leaves would be gently falling, if not the wind would swoosh so perfectly capturing that magical moment of love at first sight. But it didn't happen that way. It wasn't like the movies. And it wasn't Japan. So technically, the cherry blossoms were kind of far in the list of romantic scene options. Anyhow, it was a Saturday like most Saturdays.The sun was radiating heat that made little beads of sweat come out from the pores on my forehead, the wind was blowing bringing with it some smoke spewed by vehicles, discordant sounds coming from the mouths of puppy vendors convincing the people walking by to bring home a pup, plus the barking and unpleasant vehicle sounds--all jumbling in my ears. There were no cherry blossoms or leaves dancing to the rhythm of the wind, no breath-taking, eargasmic or even slightly sweet background music, no slowmos. And instead of a little bright sunshine that can make some aesthetic visuals for the moment, the sun was pouring out much anger making my palms and armpits sweat. I was walking with my forehead creasing, cursing the sun and at the same time worrying about my thesis when I saw the puppies. Their cute little paws and snouts made my forehead relax and a smile twitched my lips, ignoring the vendors trying to sales talk me. I looked up after a few good oows and awws and that's when I saw him walking towards me, smiling. Our eyes locked for a few seconds, I thought he was cute, and then that's it. He walked right through me and after a few steps I'm back at worrying about my thesis again and I've forgotten about the good looking guy I just saw. And that's how I met him. Now, HOW did he met me? A few days later I've learned about his side of the story. He told me that he knew back then who I was because of a mutual friend. And he recognized me as soon as we were approaching each other back at the sidewalk. He couldn't help but smile as he saw me smiling while looking at the puppies thinking how adorable it was. And after we walked past each other, he took one good moment to look back and eye me again as I continued walking away. He texted his friend (whom turned out to be my friend, too) that he just saw me. And apparently, this friend convinced him to come with her to meet me that exact afternoon. So he turned around, went back to meet our friend whom later on introduced us to each other. All leading to us now, being in love and being together. But just to make the story a little more interesting, that moment wasn't exactly our first meeting. Later on we learned that our very first meeting dates back a decade ago. We went to the same school together, and we were literally just a wall apart with our classrooms standing next to each other. Moreover, he was my cousin's childhood friend. And thinking back, I've always walked past his house everytime I visit my cousin back then. It's funny to think that we've been to a lot of places at the same time, probably seen each other's faces many times to count, but we never really had the chance to meet. And finally life did its wonders and pulled some strings from here and there, letting people meet, intertwining fates, tying relationships from both sides until our lines finally matched, bringing us to that exact moment when our paths, or rather our sidewalks, finally crossed. So I guess after this long narration I'm just trying to say that no matter how hard we think and how persistent we are in planning out our lives, we don't really have the last say. There are things that are just beyond our control and we must not gear so much on being control freaks. We must not obsess over running our own show. And it wouldn't hurt to let go of the reins and let God do the magic. Also we must always be patient. Because good things take time. And everything is set to fall in place at the right time. I've had my heart broken too many times before I met him and maybe that is one of the reasons why I was desperately holding on to the idea that there is really someone out there for me, just to defuse the self-pity I was whacked on and make me feel a little bit better about my petty situation. But it is true. There is really someone out there destined for us. All it takes is a little patience, courage and hope that someday, you will meet. Maybe it wont be as exciting as the movies, wont be as romantic and perfect as you've imagined it. But darling, I assure you, it could happen on a normal weekday, a lazy afternoon with you bummed out and with your hair not looking as perfect as you want it to be, yet it would still give you the magic and wonders more than any fairy dust or spells could ever give. Then it will be just like the fairytales. Except it's real. And it's yours. Better than the fairytales.

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Matt wakes me up talking about TMZ... Says they called Don wanting to talk to Matt. I'm still asleep and so Matt knows how to get me to talk when I'm sleeping... So I come up with "TMZ? they can be ass holes" because I remember when I first started writing about ​Jesse they would bug me alot. I knew they were very friendly with Jesse, to the point that I know they really helped him through the whole Sandra Bullock thing and that he really really needed their support. Like it made him feel happy. Like Jesse loves them like best friends love. But they weren't very good, scientifically speaking to be able to guess things.. they were very annoying to me and I blew up more than once. I just, in the end, couldn't stand them. I was trying to break amnesia and they just got in the way with their imagination. So Matt called them and then they said what they said and then Matt said he would not speak to them without legal representation. Eventually I began to wake up.. and I said "It was Jesse. They don't read me enough" And "but they called Don, wouldn't they want to know his side of the story?" And Don denied that. Says people aren't interested in that. Which I mull over because that's not true and TMZ is actually very progressive and they sit around and have people express their opinions about things that happen. Their news stories are presented very different than conventional news. So I come to the conclusion that his side of the story is not very different than mine. The FBI concluded I am correct. I checked my phone for a text about something personal that has nothing to do with bull shit in my life. And I saw a phone call from Los Angeles. I first thought it was Jesse's little cop pal. I know they say he's gonna get his ass kicked if he steps one foot in my state but yet I don't trust him to stay to himself. So I thought it was him at first, because I don't typically memorize area codes. But I got a reactivate physical feeling, usually if it's like Mike Andrews or my mom, my stomach will hurt really bad but my guts were fine And the FBI babysitters that watch my health were all happy because it didn't hurt. I think they saw my reaction before I did. Cause my stomach will hurt really fucking bad, even if it's just my mom. Well my mom is really evil too So in the end. Jesse went calling TMZ because he needs an outlet. A friend. He can't trick and tame me anymore and he is fucking scared to death. So sad about how such a bad boy he's been. And so he wanted his friends to call out. But it's Jesse and he tells TMZ the truth... Ish... Like when his finger got cut off, he lied and said it wasn't Dejoria's fault although it was-ish. So he either deserved it or she was just playing around or wasn't being ill-willed. He of course told me a different story about how she was trying to hurt him. But he typically tells me a different story so that I feel for him. Anyways. That's just Jesse. So all I have to say is that obviously Jesse knows what's true and he's trying to hide in plain sight It's not about the truth or anything of that nature. It's about his emotional buffer. He's so fucking Afraid to be in trouble and if he can get two steps away from the truth then he can get me to chill in my upset and he can feel a little breathing space. He of course hopes to twist back to Don and the NHRA and not his early 90 murdering streak of prostitutes and pimps and Johns in NYC or his murder in Texas of Jeremy, Jeremyuh, Arrianna and Aaron, two infant children whom he also raped. He raped Jeremyuh after he died, too. But not Jeremy because he went to great lengths to hide that murder, to quote Jesse himself. He's quite upset that I've known and not told him that I know he murdered him and he can no longer hide that. I don't need legal representation for anything I say. I probably should, in some hindsight issues, yet I know that people are more scared of me than willing to be in my face about shit, for real. I know the only reason I don't have lawsuits for slander against me is because what I say is truth and no one wants that out in the open any more than it is Except Jesse and that's not so that anything but try to distract me. Maybe some five minutes of fame will make me chill and be happy he's a psychopathic sociopathic lunatic that scopes religion to suit his own penis' happiness. I'm not quite interested in talking to TMZ. I'm more interested in seeing what other people have to say. I just want to be told that I'm right I know I am so it's not necessary And I have just this morning been told so. And no Jesse's plan will not work because, unfortunately for Jesse, I actually understand him and I hope that TMZ has a little light shining now that explains to them why they should just hang up when Jesse calls. It's their choice to do as they like to do however I think it's best they also stay away from Jesse. It's not worth an emotional investment. I understand that many members of TMZ do love Jesse as we all have at least once in our life. But it's just time to let him go In a professional manner, shit is about to hit the fan so fucking bad that I really think that TMZ should keep arms distance from Jesse because they will have to completely reoganize their thinking of him if they show him complete sympathy in current times. Because soon, as I say, he wont be just out getting his dick on and being hated for it. There will be real reason to hate him and the public will not love sympathy towards Jesse. In personal issues, choices is as it is to each individual. But as I say it's not worth the emotional investment. It will drag your ass down Of course they've been in the business long and should know how to separate emotions from professional feeling But I do believe they need a real world standpoint before investment. The whole Sandra thing... That's a different story. Everyone fucks around and shit and it's completely different than rape and murder. Jesse is a terrorist. I'm just trying to stop him And if TMZ doesn't heed the warning. I've supplied what I know and they can use their own psychological guide to understand the situation. And until shit does hit the fan in the media, I suggest they pretend they never heard of him. Me? I really don't give a shit. But the cops will use me to trigger him. And idk that's something that the media really wants to get into right now. And the shit they use to trigger are tricks and not at all substantial. They use my emotions to subdue Jesse so that Jesse can remain calm and do as Jesse does. It's for their safety. Like if I hadn't talked shit about them last night, Jesse would not has went to seek solace with the media. He would not thought he had a way out. He would not tried to find a friend. Which could been very bad. I hurt Jesse's feelings because I also told him I would fuck a cop so that they would beat him up. That was his final, I need to find a friend. Because he learned from me, if you don't feel safe, make shit public. So he could go crying "a cop beat me up" Whatever. He's stupid and immature to think I would do the shit that he does. Seriously I would just trick a cop to let me near him so I could kill him. That's what I would really do. Not anything else. But Jesse can think I would fuck a cop so that cop would beat him up because then Jesse can't see that I would kill him for killing my children. Because I will. And that's the truth. Oh and he tells Dejoria that he killed my kids because I cheated on him. Well he thinks we are together now and have been for the past year and a half and we have not been and I take every opportunity possible to tell him that I'm not and the people in the public so that they can brush him off when he tells people we are together. Because we are not. And we will never be Not that I know who he's killed and what he's done. Because he got his feelings hurt. Don Schumacher likes to keep me in a little dark corner of the internet and will not say a dam thing so that I'm not out in the open with the truth about what he's done. Matt happens to work for him I think Matt should say whatever he wants to say to whoever he wants to say it to. Sure people like to deny it and they like to deny it as long as they can and will go to great lengths to deny the truth However, Don had had cancer and Don know why he got cancer and while his actions are absolutely unbearably wrong, as long as he stays a dusty bunny under the bed like a horrible monster that will come out with his erect penis as though you were a paid prostitute, then he feels his soul is clean. Because, after all, it's only me. And he still thinks he can intimidate me to shut my mouth I've had people murdered in front of me. Had guns held to my head more than once. Been beat and raped and my mouth is still mother fucking running So no, like Jesse, he's a complete moron. I'm not a fucking mirror. I'm a silent killer.

#TMZ #Jesse James