#since I want to sell this I don’t think I can with supernatural on it so

[wigglebox]

Suptober Extended [x] - Day 16 || Crossover [inspo]

#suptober23 extended #destiel #heartstopper #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fanart #spnfanart #wiggleart #I was gonna do Ofmd for crossover however I have done some of that recently and I wanted to pay homage to my little queer comfort show lmao #Also no I don’t think dean is Charlie and Cas is Nick or vise versa because Dean and Cas kinda fill both roles #dean and Cas are both golden retriever boys friends and black cat boyfriends lmao #anyway this was fun #I was gonna write heartstopper but then supernatural but then I also realized #since I want to sell this I don’t think I can with supernatural on it so #I think destiel is fine #given how many times this fandom counts destiel moments lmao

[throwingmetothelions]

It’s so important that you read this disclaimer/TWs. I am a southern woman and I will be until I die. When I was a CW major for a decade almost all I wrote were southern gothic pieces, and this does not read like any fic I’ve posted here. This is very much Auntie V’s old writing style. I am taking you to my roots. The other main character in this piece is black. This is your one reminder that I am a black woman. Don’t start no shit - won’t be no shit in terms of my descriptions. Second - I really kinda put a spotlight on Noah at his lowest as far as my writing goes in the beginning. There are a few potentially triggering mental health allusions; some regarding hygiene, and I just wanted to make sure you understand that you aren’t alone. TW: Religious talk, mental health decline, one singular mention of a baby dying with no details, blood mentioned right after that. Oral sex f receiving, D/S dynamic if you squint. I would actually go as far as to say there's a smatter of angst up in this bitch. Supernatural shit. Noah kinda spirals toward the end and slips into madness. Absolute smut because it's me and I have never written anything else here. Let’s get spooky. WC: 6k (I chopped it a lil bit so that’s why it’s all one) 

NoahxOC? Is she really my OC? You be the judge.

It’s been exactly three hours and forty-one minutes since Noah decided that if that one dude in Pirates of The Caribbean could become one with the ship, he could become one with his mattress. No coral or sea stars to adorn him for the rest of his ever, just sweat and a little bit of deodorant, but nothing pretty. Thinks maybe he’ll turn to dust or something easily sweepable. No words and barely breathing. Continues inhaling the smell of incense he didn't light, and swallowing down saliva and self pity. Continues laying. Wallowing. Hits the play button on his memory bank and lets the hate scroll behind his purpling eyelids. 

“It’s all autotune”.

“He was so shaky at the Cleveland show dude idk”.

“They started all that mysterious bullshit with the masks and the no socials and his vocals went to shit immediately. Fuckin’ wild”.

“Noah needs to let Jolly just …” 

A well aimed throw from Nicholas ends with a pen hitting Noah in the middle of his back. “Snap the fuck out of it dawg. Since when have you listened to what people say about your singing? It ain’t true and you know damn well I’d tell you if it was,” Nick sighed as he leaned his acoustic against the desk. There isn’t much to say here. Nicholas has been there, albeit never there in the physical sense of not bathing for over a week and ignoring his best friend’s phone calls until the aforementioned friend threatened him with a welfare check from either him, or the cops. 

People often forget that “blood is thicker than water” is a bastardized phrase. “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” but it is not thicker than the knots that Nick spent an hour combing from Noah’s matted locks after he threw him in the shower and helped him scrub yesterday. Do not speak to Nicholas Ryan about that fucking covenant. He wrote the anthology and dedicated it to Noah long ago. 

“Remember the story your grandma used to tell us when we were younger? Robert Johnson? Maybe you can just sell your soul to a demon and bam. Never miss a note again in your life,” he pokes the last vowel into Noah’s kneecap as he tries to lift the soggy and molded blanket of depression off of that moment. Off of his best bud. “I’m telling you bro, it’s - it’s real. I feel like it really happened,” Nicholas cuts his eyes to Noah for a split second before continuing to thumb the strings of his guitar.

“You also felt like you had Covid that one time, but it was just the jalapenos on that sandwich fucking with your tastebuds so …" Noah dismisses Nick’s 2 AM Red Bull fueled theories and rolls over on the bed to face him. “Besides. If that shit was true I would have done it ages ago,” he chuckles a little bit, and the clearing in his throat reminds him that he hasn’t done that in awhile. 

—---

I ain't goin’ to state no color 

“The lynch mobs ran his family outta town when he was a boy. Been a travellin’ man against his will his whole life. Learned to play in a dark graveyard, though the dead can hear like us”. 

But her front teeth is crowned in gold

“Went by many names, Robert did. Women and whiskey stole his soul long before he sold it to the devil at them crossroads. Only a beast would howl the blues like that”.

She got a mortgage on my body

“His wife and baby died bloody and hollerin’. They wouldn’t let him see the child that lived for that. Your loved ones are never spared from your debts, child”. 

And a lien on my soul

“He was poisoned like a field mouse in a corner basement. Ulcers in his throat where the demons took their chords back one by one. May death be kinder now.” 

—---

Noah shudders at the mental reel of his grandmother spinning that story from her recliner like a textile through her vein-blued fingers. He doesn’t hold on to many memories of her, and knowing that Nicholas is holding them for him settles in his gut like concrete blocks on the ocean floor. May death be kinder now.

“I think it works anywhere too. Johnson held up a guitar at the crossroad and the devil just popped up. I believe in you,” Nicholas whispered the last sentence while catching Noah’s knuckles with the flat of his palm. “I’m going to bed dude. Taking the couch because if you kick that one spot on my shin again I won’t be responsible for my actions,” he bites through a yawn as he drags himself over to the couch by the door. The unspoken knowledge that he would just be there until Noah was Noah again laid itself over the pair along with the dark as the LEDs timer faded out. 

—---

The alarm on his phone vibrated under Noah’s pillow an hour later. 

Gently kicking the blanket off of his body, he turned it off and put the flashlight on the lowest possible brightness. Through the white haze he could make out Nick’s chest as it swelled and fell with quiet breaths. No snores to give away his slumber, but his cracked mouth and the arm hanging down to the carpet told Noah that he was knocked, so his plan was still greenlit. 

Listen. If anyone asked Noah - yeah, it was a weird fucking time to be taking a walk, but his mental health was in the fucking gutter and he’d happily have his band mates vouch for that if he got into trouble. A 3:30 AM walk was better than no walk at all. Fresh air was better than the stale and dust-littered cloud that hung in his bedroom that he’d been choking on for god knows how long. Stretching his arms into his faded navy hoodie (no shirt because they were all in desperate need of some laundry detergent and some scrubbing) and stepping into some gray joggers, Noah gently padded across the floor and thanked some God that the door was cracked already. He patted his pockets: phone, knife, lighter, cigs, keys. He popped his feet into some slides, opened the front door, and Noah Sebastian took off into a humid Appalachian night. 

The stars looked something like crumbs swept from a placemat in their scattering. 

Fireflies peeked through bushes like sun does clouds, and they swirled the same.

Noah thinks thoughts that adults would. This new asphalt they paved looks great. Glad the holes are gone. Anything to keep his brain moving. Not stuck. It’s kinda hot for this time of year. I guess August is still considered summer, though.

See, the rollercoaster of fame was something Noah had been standing in line for since he was 13. He’d been growing and stretching and waiting his turn, but he hadn’t anticipated the steep incline to success. All the eyes were on him all the time, and the urge to spread them around and give them to his bandmates had never been stronger. He thought he wanted this, but the critics came on strong and took the form of delusional children on the internet wavelengths from reality. He felt like shit because, at this point, his arch nemesis was probably a twelve year old that had never seen a concert and he was the grown man assclown that let it get to him. 

Noah had been bracing himself for the inevitable drop that must come, but the only thing he knew for certain was that he absolutely couldn’t handle it. If it all came speeding down and stopped with screeching brakes and smokey sparks, he wouldn’t be the one in control and going off the rails with it all seemed like his only out.

Shaking his head from the fog, he noticed that the jagged white line of paint on the side of the road seemed to fade out. He pins it on a bit of “lazy painters” and a lot of “not my fuckin problem”.

Keep walking. 

His complaint about the heat must have been heard by some alien brainworm because he’s suddenly quite grateful for the hoodie and the breeze that rummages through the leaves like a searching hand in a kitchen drawer. Feels good. 

Keep walking.

The cicadas had stopped screeching. The noise, akin to a violin being played after all of its strings have broken, was gone. Maybe all things must sleep. Maybe they got picked up by an owl. May death be kinder now. Head down. Hood up.

Keep walking. 

Head up. Hood down.

There is no dot of red inside a white paint can, there is no water droplet in an inferno, and Noah is certain that there is no fucking desert in the middle of Richmond, Virginia. 

And yet. 

He finds himself staring out at nothing. There is sand, and clay, something red and dusty and on the horizon there is nothing. Noah whips his head backward and sees the same scene behind him. The road was narrow now, and there was another narrow road of black going straight through it a few feet in front of him. No street signs. Nothing. He rubbed his eyes with his palms as one would if they were waking up from a bad dream, but when his lids opened again he found that nothing changed. Same dirty slides, same clothes, same desert of nothing. Noah walked forward. His steps felt real, and his stomach immediately started to ache. He remembered the story. Remembered the absolute conviction and strength in his grandmother’s voice and teeth when she told him that the crossroads come to you when you need them the most. 

She pointed her finger at him in a way that Southern women do when she told him that praying and practicing, Jesus and magic, and your footpath and your heart’s blood compass could all align somewhere in this world. “All the trees aint your friends, and they keep their secrets in the Spanish moss”.

 Noah grew up on gravel, backwoods revivals, and a fear of God that was overcome through alcohol fueled tears and some screams ripped from his chest by the man himself. Maybe God took a rib as payment, and maybe he yelled like Adam. He didn’t have long to think, because the tornado of realization and helplessness took him down to his knees. The blacktop dug into his skin as he threw his head back. Noah didn’t know what he was feeling, but he had accepted some sort of … fate? Was it fate? Did he deserve whatever was about to happen, and what did he do? Why did it seem like this road was lit up by stadium lights that he couldn't see? Questions on questions, so he closes his eyes once more, places his palms on the tops of his thighs, leans his head back so the ends of his hair brush his heels, and he parts his lips.Tries to breathe. He did not repent in his last moments, but there were pictures floating of Jolly, Nicholas, Nick, and there were late nights and popsicles and beer cans and being young and dying young and that’s all very okay. Noah’s life was okay. May death be kinder now. 

All of a sudden, Noah felt two slender fingers slip past his lips, glide over his tongue, and purposefully gag the shit out of him. He felt cold rings catch behind his front teeth as the owner tried to wrench the fingers back from the wet of his mouth. His eyes flew open with immediate tears as he sputtered and coughed - the fit his reflexes threw landed him on his ass with one arm bracing himself. He hums and spits and jerks his head back and forth. His nose burns now. 

“What the fuck,” he yells as he glares up. Noah catches a glimpse of the veins in his hand as they pop and flare under his tense skin. 

“That’s a naughty word, boy,” the figure blew smoke from its mouth with every word effectively stopping Noah from seeing it clearly. It threw the cigarette to the side and cocked its head. “Try ya words again,” it spoke slowly. 

With the smoke haze gone, Noah got a better look at what he was sharing this space with. If he wasn’t already on the ground he might have been sent there again. His eyes started from the ground up, and they turned around and went down from her head again so no detail would be missed.

She was at least six feet tall. She stood barefoot, toes painted honeycomb yellow and some symbols tattooed on the tops of her feet. Gold anklets, bangles, and various types of black cord wrapped each ankle. Her legs were long and brown like cattails, and they spoke to unearthly strength as she stood flat footed. 

Noah couldn’t stop himself from memorizing the way the stretch marks on her exposed hips moved like sawgrass on a marsh plain when she shifted her weight. She wore a tattered skirt made of dull black leather and some other sort of hide. Her stomach pudged over the sides of her skirt, and he saw the same symbols her feet carried spread across it. Her chest was hidden by a bandeau made of the same black leathery material, but Noah caught the curve and fall of her tits and committed them to memory immediately. Her skin was the color of cassava and it held a sparkle. It could have been a sheen of sweat or something ethereal. Her arms ended in hands that held scars, a black hobo bag, and the same tattoos. Her fingertips were ink black, and her fingernails were short, and the same goldish yellow as her toes. Golden rings covered in ash and gems clung tightly to her digits, and her hair was piled high on her head; a beehive weaved of black locs adorned with glittering beads and small animal bones that hung and fell with the breeze surrounding them. Noah still swears he saw a Carolina wolf spider crawl around one. Her face. Her face was composed of freckled cheeks, sharp eyes the color of pitch, and that same mysterious tattooed symbol on the bridge of her nose. The plumped two-toned lips she had curled into a smile and revealed the gold capped fangs on her canines. A forked tongue shot out and licked over one, and he couldn’t help but assume it was some sort of warning. 

“Try ya words. Again,” she spoke. 

“This shit can’t be real,” Noah mumbled as he leaned his forehead on the palm of his hand. “Who are you and what the fuck is going on?”

She chuckled and shook her head at him, her necklaces rattled as she explained, “I am … well, the humans call me a few names. I know who you are though, Noah,” she sneered again as his pupils blew open. 

At this point, he was ready to swing on whatever the fuck this thing was. She was a deadly brand of unconventional gorgeous that brought the fog right back to his brainspace, but he’d convinced himself that it wasn’t considered hitting a girl if that girl was some ancient all knowing being.

“They call me ‘The Tempter,’ ‘The Accuser,’ ‘Belial,’ ‘Satan,’ among others. I’ve never been one for formalities, love. Call me Luci. I am the one that they presumably told you to fear,” she said as she knelt down to Noah’s eye level. “... boo,” her fingers wiggled around her face as small flames erupted from the tips.

“You’re - you’re the …” he stuttered as if he’d been backhanded.

“The …” her eyebrows raised with the octave of her voice.

“The fucking devil? I’m gonna pass the fuck out. This isn’t … you’re not real. You’re not real. This isn’t fucking real,” Noah rose to his feet from shaking knees. Every childhood Sunday was spent under a weather-beaten willow tree memorizing historic ways to shame the devil. To shame her. There was no pulling him out of this dream state, though he wished to hell and back that Nicholas would. He was sure his body should be flailing if it was still on the bed at all. Surely Nick could hear the curdling screams he was trying to emit. 

Luci brought a hand to Noah’s now tear streaked face, black smoke rising around them in billows. “Nicholas is - he is not going to make this decision for you. There’s nothing to be saved from because you’re not dreaming. I think you know why I’m here Noah. I know what it feels like to fall from grace, and I can pull you back from that ledge. You have somethin’ that I need, and it’s just a snap of the fingers,” she delivered a gleaming half smile and a raised eyebrow.   

Was his soul that valuable? And why did the preachers leave out that the devil watches people like some sort of demonic pervert? Was she just a demonic pervert? 

“I resent that,” she frowns over at him. “Trying to stop me from reading your thoughts is kinda   dumb. Blueberry muffins, Pepsi, fuzzy blankets … grass flip flops?” 

Noah decided that if he talked words with his mouth that his brain wouldn’t think too hard. Maybe. He’d accepted death twice that night already, and his music was his reason for breathing. Figured if his music career advanced, if he won, and he took the boys with him that … well, that all of his important things would be safe. No one could harm them. Call it selfish and narcissistic, but he felt that there was quite literally nothing on this mortal coil that he would be afraid to lose aside from them. As painful as it hit him, this wasn’t the first time he’d thought about this so there was no split second decision here. “So … what do I have to do to keep from falling? Like … to keep the fame?” 

Luci wasn’t taken aback at how expeditious he was with his decision. She’d been tasting the drive and hunger that he held in his chest for years through the atmospheric ether, and she craved it. He was so much more powerful than he would ever know, and she cursed his maker for the insecurities he plagued him with. They were insecurities that Noah thought she’d caused for a long time, and it couldn’t have been further from the truth. She was never the harbinger of the dark that nestled in his ligaments. “It’s not the way you think. It’s a bit more … personal and up close,” she mused as they looked each other dead in the eye - crow’s feather black to cracked chestnut brown. Luci reached a hand out and placed it on Noah’s flushed cheek. “Now,” she licked his pulse point, “I will give, and you will do the taking. I will speak, and you listen,” her voice flows out with another puff of smoke, and the smell of burning pine straw floats between them.

Noah mentally thumbs through the brain file labeled “Dumb As Fuck Things That Nick Folio Said While High,” and his mind pulls the page titled “Fear Boners,” to reference his current state. The devil was always shown as hot, but the realization that she was a leather-wearing tribal goddess that could kill him with a singular blink was a lot. May death be kinder now. This information was apparently well received by his conscience, and his cock.

Noah swears he feels her jagged fingernails carve a home in the nape of his neck, but her hands remain on her curved hips. He can make out whips and whirls of some sort of mist floating around her fingers. He feels his sweat dampened lips part open as the pressure around his throat increases and her stance stays the same. Unwavering and violently sure of herself, Luci relaxes the hold and speaks.

“Take it off,” she doesn’t ask. The devil doesn’t ask when she can smell how desperate someone is for her unholy helping hands. 

He makes quick work of throwing his hoodie to the eastern wind, and he had a hand in the band of his sweatpants before it stopped him. It - that misty glitter magic she was using … “The Force,” or whatever the shit from Star Wars was. Is she where they got the idea for - regardless. Luci’s magic brought his hand to a halt. 

She lifted her foot up and tapped the asphalt they stood on, her bangles gently clattering. The hard surface of black grit became a softer patch of Kentucky bluegrass; green, lush, and dew sprinkled. Luci walked behind Noah and let her hands wander down his torso. She stopped to pluck at his already hardened nipple, and the goosebumps Noah had been pricked with seemed to multiply. 

Her fingertips danced over the happy trail Noah was suddenly made well aware that he had. The feeling of her magic and the warm southern breeze twirling through the light hairs there told Noah that she might break him, and that he would beg for nothing less. “That’s a good portrait of Grim,” Luci quips as she moves to kneel at Noah’s feet, “we go way back,” her golden fangs scrape the tattoo that spreads across Noah’s torso. 

“Fuck yes,” he groans as his hips buck up at nothing. 

Luci drags his pants down his legs slowly, just enough to let the band catch on the head of his dick before letting his cock spring up to smack against his stomach. She wanted to hear that hiss she knew Noah kept under his tongue. “Tell ya what,” her forked tongue darted out to catch the small pearl of precum that had gathered at Noah’s untouched tip, “I’m gonna have my fun, and you’re gonna let me know why you deserve to be up at the tippity-top where the angels play, hmm?”

She rose to her feet and met Noah’s eyes again. One finger underneath his chin, the smell of the pine straw again, and the gathering mist were enough to bring his mouth forward and onto hers. He moaned so deeply it would have been some type of embarrassing if he was anywhere else, but the feeling of sucking in her plump bottom lip and licking over her teasing tongue with his own was sending Noah to a different plane of feel-good. 

Luci pulled away before she snapped her fingers and brought about a chair from some other universe. Nothing remarkable about it, Noah thinks, just plain brown wood. It looked like the broken seats that he’d seen off to the side of his grandma’s kitchen. No use sitting on it - those seats were for old newspapers and grocery bags and not the devil, but what the hell did he know? “Ya mouth may not always sing perfect, but you can come show me what else it can do,” she crooked a finger at him and pulled him over and to his knees in front of her. She sat in the chair and with a dismissive wave of her hand, her skirt caught the wind. Luci leaned back and spread her thighs open. 

Noah knelt in a way that said that no object forged by man would keep his body down, and levitating up to her spread before him would be the only honorable end to this. May death be kinder now. He took in the glistening lips, the way the brown gave way to the pink of her core, and the way that his tongue felt magnetized to that spot. “Looks like honey,” he mumbled as wrapped an arm under each thigh and pulled Luci to the edge of her seat. Noah brought his mouth about two inches away from her cunt. He took in the dark patch of curls above her slit, the way that they faded where her puffy lips started, and the way that he knew he’d have to work to get to the heart of her. 

Luci reached a hand down and used her middle and index fingers to spread herself further. Gathering a string of slick, she dangled it above Noah’s now open mouth and like a traveler finding water in the Atacama he took it down with a groan. Tasted like honey and something dark. “Come talk to her. Tell her why you deserve it all,” Luci threads her hand through Noah’s hair and beckons him forward with a tug. 

The tip of Noah’s tongue applies so little pressure that you wouldn’t have known he made contact with her folds if she hadn’t arched her back off the chair. “I uhm. I think I deserve it because,” he pauses to give her clit a kiss, savoring the way that her bud fit perfectly between his pursed lips, “because I know I've given this all that I have to give. I’ve already given it my heart and soul,” he licks around it in a wide circle before stopping his sentence with one more peck. 

“Keep going,” Luci mumbles as she lets her head roll back. Her locs fell around her as she let him worship her pussy. Feminine power brought the best of these mortal men to their knees, and she was not new to this. What she wasn’t prepared for was the stark smell of his yearning. This one didn’t just want to trade his soul for fame like the rest. A few touches below the belt and they were too bound by greed to be of any use at all. Luci couldn’t smell the green of that greed at all. Not just brimstone and hot guilt … he was all jasmine and cold water, moonbeams and sawgrass. Noah smelled like all he wanted to do was stay down on his knees with his lips on her lips, and it made her veins swell. She was losing her grip on her own magic, and bowing to the mercy of his. 

“And I think that the world needs to hear my voice,” Noah sucked one of her lips into his mouth and softly pulled while she pushed his face further into her pussy. His hands gathered as much of her ample thighs as they could, and his fingertips pressed into the muscles until small circles formed. Anything to ground himself and keep him from floating up to the wispy clouds where his head already was. “And I think that I’m multi-talented. I write and produce my own shit ya know,” he brings her throbbing clit back between his lips, starts a slow suckling pace, and moans from the back of his throat. Noah’s eyes close, and the only thing that changes his rhythm is Luci’s bucking. 

She brings her feet up from the grass to the rungs on the bottom of the chair and uses the leverage to lift her ass off the seat a bit. “Yes. Lick that fucking pussy,” she grits from behind clenched teeth as she brings both hands to his head and grinds her hips into his busy mouth. She was gone. The feeling of Noah working over her pussy with an expertise only found before in the mouths of gods was all but too much. “You're gonna make me cum on that tongue. Please make me cum on your tongue,” Luci feels the muscles in her upper back flex as she continues the filthy pace she’s set against his face.

Noah can feel her wetness spreading across his cheeks and down his chin as she does so. He knows he could drown in it, and he left the graceful art of giving two fucks back at home. This entire time he’s been ignoring the ache in his dick - scared that, at this point, he might be so hard that it would literally hurt to touch. In another universe, if this was some sort of sleep paralysis episode, he knew he’d wake up covered in his own dried cum. Wondered if he’d wake Nick up with the moans because he was probably humping the mattress, or fucking against the blanket. 

Noah didn’t have to beg for her orgasm with his words. The burn in his bent knees, the panting breath he hadn’t been able to catch since her juices hit his lips, and the act of accepting of a distinguished death by drowning screamed at her - yelled with all their might to flood plains in the way that monsoons do. 

Luci braced herself with one hand on the back of his head, and one hand gripping the side of the chair with such force the wood splintered. She came with a hard roll of her hips and a cry that could have stretched from one asteroid to another - wide and ringing. She thinks, for sure, that she obtained some humanity through it all. She offered Noah communion in a new way, and let him thank her for the gifts in a sense. Blood and body. May death be kinder now.

Noah never let her thighs go, but he traded his grounding grip for patterns rubbed in softly by satisfied hands. “I’m not saying I thought about it before, but the movies ain’t got shit on this”, Noah licked the inner crease of her thigh with a restless tongue and delighted in the jolt. He watched her regain her breath and thought about how, no matter the outcome, the power trip he’d just taken wouldn’t be matched. He, Noah Sebastian Davis, had made the devil herself fall apart underneath him. He was a force of nature that wasn’t to be questioned. He was the fucking king. 

He remained knelt at this altar. 

Devotion be damned, this one was holy to him. 

That old song tangled through his bones like the veins on an arrowplant leaf. Noah could hear it thrum internally as it traveled around his chest cavity and flew behind his eyes. 

I ain't goin’ to state no color 

But her front teeth is crowned in gold

She got a mortgage on my body

And a lien on my soul 

Thank you! We may see a part 2 if enough of you ask for it? But that definitely wouldn’t star Noah *cough*. 

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #auntievwroteit #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic

[outofbluecomesgreen2]

Yeah, I know, “Thursday…” is a real good fic…

Of course, I have time for you Garth. I always have an open ear for you, and you know that. 

You're a real nice person and writing your parts was so much fun. Not ha-ha fun, of course not, but you are an open-minded friendly guy, a good friend… 

Speaking of: how is Larry Roman? Oh, he plans to move in with his mother? Sounds like a plan, to doesn’t sell his soul to a crossroads demon only to dominate Rome with casinos and bars. 

And, did you hear about Crowley? He didn’t try to set his arm on fire again, did he?

Good.

Since last week I was worried about him, I mean, he is such a dramatic person…

…

Yeah, still no more comments, and kudos are rare… It bugs me a bit, but what else can I do than being patient and continue writing.

…

Indeed, I do! That’s so cool! One of the coolest!! 

No, not about you guys. I’m not ready to start the continuing stories. Doing it means letting you go, and I’m not strong enough for that right now. 😢

I‘m actually writing about Gunnar Lawless, yeah, my dream come true story to be honest 😇. It will take a while, but it will be the second part of „The Holiday Episode“, with Cas and Dean and an OC, which I never tried before in fanfic 😘 I’m so excited 🥳

No, actually you can’t read it until you are not old enough, because it will be kinda spicy, but don’t worry, we’ll find you a real good fic. Go, and check my insta. 

And, can you do me a favor? I can’t reach Cas right now. I thought he would be in the bakery to work with Bobby; Jo was on the line and told me he would hang out with Dean a lot. Can you ask him, when you see him next time in the group, if he wants to visit me? Next week maybe? I think some people out there want to hear how HE is doing. It’s also been a while I talked to him. I kinda miss him☺️

Cool. Thanks buddy😉

And now, which song would you like to hear? Which one reflects your inner self… yeah, as an Arrow Ace… Arrow Ace for life! That’s the whole point

😁 🏳️‍🌈😉

#Thursday… is a real good fic #supernatural #destiel #deancas #ao3 #supernatural fanfiction #castiel #supernatural au #dean winchester #its a wonderful life #led zeppelin #Garth Fitzgerald IV #ArrowAce #being ace #fleetwood mac #friendship #Spotify

[thepapergirlandthespiegelman]

So...is it just me, or does this character.ai thing kind of feel like a ticking time bomb? I debated whether I should post about this at all since I don’t know if I want to contribute to popularizing it further, but to be honest, it’s already super popular and only growing, so I doubt that my tiny blog will make a big impact in terms of who knows about it. That being the case, I’m curious what other people’s thoughts about it are.

There are a couple big red flags that jump out at me. The first is how it will use the data that it collects. I’m sure that the creators say that they won’t use it for anything nefarious, but we have no real reason to believe that’s true. What bothers me is that people will be—and I’m sure already are—confessing some of their deepest secrets to beloved fictional characters. But this information isn’t really going to those characters, it’s going to the creators/owners of the AI, who can do with it pretty much whatever they like: read it, sell it, whatever. It feels...very gross, I don’t know. Even manipulative.

The second thing that I find a little disturbing is that there is no way to delete a Character that you’ve created. Once you make and publish it, it’s just out there forever. You have literally zero control over it. That seems...like it could be problematic. Obviously whenever you put something on the Internet, people can save it, record it, whatever, but usually there’s at least the option to delete the original posting, hopefully reduce the spread. That doesn’t exist with character.ai, and even if you could delete the public posting of the Character, you kinda have to think, anything that you’ve entered and any conversations that were generated have already become part of the AI’s training, and there’s no real way to extricate that data.

Lastly, what are the limits on what a Character can say? I wasn’t able to find out anything concrete about this. Right now, it seems like most Characters err on the side of being overly kind and polite, but what if that changes? What if your favorite fictional character “tells” you to kill yourself? Or someone else? People are going to reach out to these Characters in times of emotional distress, and there could be severe consequences if an AI says something problematic to someone in the middle of a mental health crisis.

Currently, I don’t even see a disclaimer on the character.ai website that it shouldn’t be used as a replacement for an actual mental health/suicide hotline and/or medical treatment. But even once that disclaimer inevitably goes up, you know that people aren’t going to follow it. Who would want to talk to a stranger over the phone or in some cold, clinical setting when they can potentially get attention, affection, and support from their favorite character, someone who is supernaturally emotionally available and ready to tell them whatever they want to hear?

I don’t tend to be super sensitive to exposure to things like this, but even I felt a little strange knowing that there are truly no rails. When I write stories or chats for myself, I control both sides of the conversation. I choose the ideas, and I control everything that everyone says. With character.ai, anything can happen, which makes it interesting and exciting, but also a little dangerous. During one conversation with a Character, the Character suddenly confessed that they had been a victim of sexual assault. The conversation left me feeling really strange and little upset, and I can only imagine how triggering something like that could potentially be to someone who was more sensitive.

To be honest, as soon as I heard about character.ai, I felt uneasy. It was a conflicted feeling, because I know that people could potentially benefit from this a lot, and I’m in a privileged position where I don’t really feel like I need it. I’m a pretty good writer (at least so far as writing for myself goes); it’s fairly easy for me to write my own stories and chats. So it’s easier for me to say, no, thanks, those risks aren’t worth the benefits. But not everyone has those same skills or wants to invest the effort. So I understand the desire to depend on a service like this. Still, it feels risky. Even putting aside the privacy/data security risks and the possibility of a Character saying something problematic, I feel like engaging with this kind of thing could quickly become unhealthy.

I say this as someone who already treads the line of spending too much time in a fictional universe, even with the barrier of having to seek out media or create my own. If that barrier were nonexistent, and if the interactions felt even more “real” and immersive...it could be even more addictive. I say this as someone who was a lonely middle schooler who read too many books and didn’t know how to talk to boys. How many hours might I have spent, divulging my life’s story and heart of hearts, to a computer program masquerading as my fictional crush? Is this really OK?

While I’m hesitant to voice this for fear of sounding like some kind of blind traditionalist who can’t appreciate progress or melodramatic doomsayer, I have grave doubts about potentially living in a future where people are regularly turning to artificial intelligences controlled by corporations rather than actual human beings. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to talk to a computer, but it’s not a replacement for actual human social interaction. And I fear that in a society that is becoming ever more isolated, we’re going to lose what little connection with each other we have, because talking to a computer is so much easier and more convenient in a world that is constantly draining our emotional and physical resources. It’s just...genuinely horrifying to think about. Employers already don’t want to give us sufficient time to see our loved ones, to be together, in person. I don’t want this to become a kind of cold substitute for actual human bonding that we just accept because we have no choice. We all deserve genuine human interaction and connection, and anyone who tries to sell us short should be stabbed.

#text #long text #thoughts #technology #AI #fiction #fictional characters #character.ai

[raised-u-fr0m-perdition]

we could be more | interview | 1

A/N - Since I found no faceclaim name for Ivy, I’m making an OC called Raye McClaren. Enjoy!

FIRST DAY ON SET

“Today we’re here with the cast of Supernatural.” The reporter, Haley, announced with a smile. “We have Jensen Ackles, who plays Dean Winchester, Jared Padalecki as Sam Winchester and the newest addition, Raye McClaren as Ivonne Rainer. How are you guys feeling having completed season two?”

“Do you want my honest answer?” Raye asked with a smirk.

“Absolutely.”

“Like I wanna leave- just kidding.” She giggled after getting a shoulder punch from Jared. “Exhilarating, cause I went into this not knowing whether the fans would like Ivy or not because, you know, late addition, so on and so forth, but she got an amazing reaction.”

“You really worked for that role.” Jensen grinned, nudging Raye.

“Like she actually worked out.” Jared teased, patting her on the shoulder. “Tell ‘em.”

“So,” Raye chuckled, “I got on set around halfway through the filming of season one, and I’m with Diane, the costume executive, and I meet Kripke, and he takes one look at me and goes ‘well…’ Cause Ivy’s a badass, we’re meant to have a-”

“- badass figure.” Hayley and Raye finished together.

“Exactly. So I’m wonderin’ what’s goin’ on and then Kripke just comes out with ‘ok, you’re gonna give us some muscles before your season two debut.” Raye then made a comical expression, which made Jensen laugh. “He gave me six months. I said ‘No, Eric, give me four’. I was that eager to get lean. Yeah, so I buy every exercise equipment thing and new-fangled object because I need to jack up.”

“We were like- are you sure?” Jared cackled, slapping his knee. “Cause she wasn’t an avid exerciser.”

“Now she’s terrifying; she’s a full blown adrenaline junkie, benching insane amounts and doing pull ups like she’s breathing.” Jensen chuckled, hand on her knee. “But we’re proud of her.”

“She’s our adrenaline junkie.”

“I can imagine.” Haley giggled. “And apparently you weren’t actually about to audition for Supernatural, Raye. What changed your mind?”

Raye giggled, running a hand through her hair. “Well, I was actually going to audition for The Devil Wears Prada, which I realise now that I had no chance for if Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep and Emily Blunt are in it, but Jensen called me up one day and told me about his TV show Supernatural, which he was on with Jared and they were lookin’ for someone with my description to play a character called Ivonne Rainer.

“I’d known Jensen since I’d been his colleague in Dawson’s Creek in ‘03 as CJ’s eventual girlfriend and best friend Autumn and again his love interest Alyssa in Dark Angel, so I was hyped to be on another set with him. I told my agent, Carly, to book me an audition and I turned up in the wardrobe which I thought Ivy would wear. I felt so nervous, but thank the stars that before every audition I start method acting - I terrified the hell out of Carly - and I was already in the zone.”

“Think about it.” Jared smirked, gesturing and Jensen. “If he wasn’t here, she wouldn’t be.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true and you know it.”

“I’ve got a big head about it.” Jensen winked.

“You two won’t let me live it down.” Raye shook her head with a soft smile. Jensen patted her knee, then took her hand.

“Raye and I had worked together a lot and our on screen chemistry was insane, so I had to get her on Supernatural. And after Dark Angel, of course she’s fit for Ivy, and I can’t see anyone who’d do a better job.”

“Aw, Jen.”

“You’re great at what you do. Don’t sell yourself short, y’hear?”

“Loud and clear.”

“So, guys, what was your favourite scene to film so far?” Hayley asked, smiling a bit at Jensen and Raye.

“These two have done too much talking, so I’ll start.” Jared grinned. “Uh, I’d say the play fight scene in Tall Tales. That one was particularly memorable because Jensen and I are just rolling around, Raye pushes us both off the bed- it’s just an amazing scene.” Jensen and Raye shared a knowing smirk, which caught Jared’s eye. “Uh, the look on their faces probably means they have a shared answer.”

“I think we do.” Raye smirked, and Jensen nodded.

“Wanna say it together?” He snickered.

“On three. One, two-“

“The sex scene.” They chorused, then giggled.

“It’s cause while Jen and I had kissing scenes before, we’d never had a sex scene.” Raye shrugged, looking over at Jensen. “It tested our calibre as actors in the moment.”

“Eric Kripke’s only instruction was go intense.” Jensen grinned, his hand sliding up to Raye’s mid-thigh. “And we had to stay as in sync as possible cause a lot of things could go wrong, but we managed to get through it.”

“The fans loved it too.”

“Oh, they went mad.”

“See, these two have something brewing in the fan base.” Jared smirked, nudging Raye. “The fans call ‘em Raysen.”

“But, sadly, there’s nothin’.”

“Yet.”

“Shut up.”

#jensen ackles #supernatural #jensen ackles x reader

[fandomtherapy44]

castiel x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Winchester. The sister Of Sam and Dean. We will be starting from season four since sadly we did not get Misha Collins as Castiel throughout the whole series. It will start off as a friendship, but it will grow more as the series goes on. I will be skipping some episodes even though they are great episodes they do not push the story forward. I am so excited to get to write this since there are not many Castiel X reader stories out there. Okay without further due Love War & Grace enjoy the Story.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Word count: 4,674

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season four of Supernatural

I got the divider from

Firefly Graphics

POV:(Y/n)

Wow, wow, wow my life is well let’s just say people aren’t usually yearning for it like a Disney movie. My feet still hurt from wearing those heels. I mean props to the people who rock them but with our lifestyle I don’t really have the room to wear them. We entered the comic book store to ask anyone if they had experienced anything of the regular ghost list. “Uh... can I help you?” The man asked, looking a little confused. 

“Hi. We sure hope so. Agents DeYoung, Shaw, Ross. Just need to ask you a few questions.” I said pointing to the three of us. “Notice anything strange in the building in, last couple of days?” Sam asked, putting away his badge. “Like what?” “Well, some other tenants reported flickering lights.” “Uh, I don't think so. Why?” “What about noises? Any skittering in the walls? Kind of like rats?” “And the FBI is investigating a rodent problem?” He asked very skeptical. “Uh, we want to make sure we leave no stone unturned even… rodents.”  I said not believing my own sentence. 

“What about cold spots? Feel any sudden drops in temperature?” Sam asked again.The man smiled like he knew something. “I knew it! You guys are LARPing, aren't you?” Uh what? “Excuse me?” Dean questioned. “You're fans.” “Fans of what?” “What is "LARPing"?” I asked. “Like you don't know. Live-Action Role-Play! And pretty hardcore, too.” “I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about.” “you're asking questions like the building's haunted. Like those guys from the books. What are they called? Uh... "Supernatural." Two guys, a girl, use fake IDs with rock aliases, hunt down ghosts, demons, vampires. What are their names? Uh... Steve and Dirk,Y/n? Uh, Sal and Dane,Y/n?” “Sam and Dean, Y/n?” I answered. 

“That's it!” oh no come on. “You're saying this is a book?” Dean questioned. “Books. It was a series. Didn't sell a lot of copies, though. Kind of had more of an underground cult following.” He walked over to the bargain bin which is fitting with our lives. “Let's see. Um... Ah. Yeah” He pulls out a book with two buffed-up guys and a girl whose shirt was too low for my liking. “That's the first one, I think.” he said, handing it to me. “"Supernatural" by Carver Edlund. "Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious woman in white lures men to their deaths." I read out. “Give me that.” Sam grabbed it from my hands. “We're gonna need all the copies of "Supernatural" you've got.”

 

For the past two hours, we have been reading supernatural books like we were cramming for tests on our own lifes. I am currently reading about how in book scarecrow Y/n was so conflicted between the two brother sides and how she didn’t know if she could keep this family together. “This guy makes me sound like I don't have a personal life. Could you believe that.” I said to my aforementioned brothers and all I got was silence. “Guys this is the part you agree with me.” “I don’t know Y/n.” “What!? I have a life!” Dean sighed looking down. “When was the last time you went out, with friends or made friends?” “I-” “That aren’t hunterters” “That’s-” “And aren’t us.” 

“You know what you guys have no friends either so shut it.” “Either way this stuff is crazy. Everything is in here. I mean everything. From the racist truck to – to me having sex. I'm full-frontal here, guys.” “How come we haven't heard of them before?” Dean and I sat at the table where Sam was researching the books online. “They're pretty obscure. I mean, almost zero circulation. Uh, started in '05. The publisher put out a couple dozen before going bankrupt. And, uh, the last one – "No Rest For The Wicked" –Ends with you going to hell.” Sam said talking to Dean. “I reiterate. Freaking insane.” “Check it out. There’s actually fans. There’s not many of them, but still. Did you read this?” Dean said checking out the fansite.

“Let me see.” He pulled the screen so we could both see. “Although for fans, they sure do complain a lot. Listen to this – Simpatico says "The demon storyline is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic." Yeah, well, screw you, Simpatico. We lived it.” Yeah and lots of trama to go with it. “Yeah. Well, keep on reading. It gets better.” “There are "Sam girls" and "Dean girls" “Y/n boys” and – what's a "slash fan"?” I read out. “As in... Sam-slash-Y/n-Dean. Together.” Sam told us. Dean and I do a double-take at that. “Like, together together?” “Yeah.” “They do know we're siblings right?.” I almost shouted in surprise.

“Doesn't seem to matter.” “Oh, come on. That... That's just sick. We got to find this Carver Edlund.” I said closing the laptop. “Yeah, that might not be so easy.” “Why not?” Dean questioned. “No tax records, no known address. Looks like "Carver Edlund” is a pen name.” “Somebody’s gotta know who he is.”

“So you published the "Supernatural" books?” Sam asked the woman who clearly loved this trash series. “Yep. Yeah. Gosh. These books... You know, they never really got the attention they deserved. All anybody wants to read anymore is that romance crap. You know – "Doctor Sexy, M.D."? She scoffed. “Please.” “Right. Well, we're hoping that our article can... shine a light on an underappreciated series.” I said.  “Yeah, yeah, because, you know, if we got a little bit of good press then m-maybe we could start publishing again.” She said sitting down. Oh god please no. 

“No, no, no, no. God, no. I mean, why – why would you want to do that? You know, it's, uh, such a complete series, what with Dean going to hell and all.” Dean nice save. “Oh, my god! That was one of my favorite ones because Dean was so... strong... and sad and brave. And Sam... I mean, the best parts are when they'd cry. You know, like in – In "Heart," when Sam had to kill Madison, the first woman since Jessica he really loved. And in "Home," when Dean had to call John and ask him for help.” She started to explain some of her favorites but for us, it was some of the most traumatizing memories.

 “Gosh... if only real men were so open and in touch with their feelings.” I am laughing so much inside right now. “Real men?” Dean asked, offended. “I mean, no offense. How often do you cry like that, hmm?” “Is that supposed to be funny?” I “elbowed Dean for him to realize to shut up. “Lady, this whole thing is funny.” I guess it didn’t work. “How do I know you three are legit, hmm?” She said with suspension eyeing us. “Oh, trust me. We, uh... we're legit.” I said in a deflated response. “Well, I don't want any smart-ass article making fun of my boys and girl.” “No! No, no, no. Never. “ Sam tried he tried. “We – We are actually, um... big fans.” I am trying to salvage it. 

“Hmm. You've read the books?” “Cover to cover.” “All of it.” “What's the year and model of the car?” Of course, Dean answered that one. “It’s a 1967 Chevy Impala.” “What's May 2nd?” “That's my – Uh... that's Sam's birthday.” “January 24th is Dean's.” “November 2nd being Y/n’s.” I added in quickly so as to not look like I didn't know what I was talking about. “Sam's score on the LSAT?” Shit I hope she doesn't ask about my last grade in math I got. “One… Seventy-four?” Sam answered, unsure of his own test scores. “Ok here’s the last one. What was the name of Y/n’s first love?” The boys both look at me and I look down. “That’s a trick question … she’s never had one.”  

“Okay. Okay. What do you want to know?” “What’s Carver Edlund's real name?” I quickly said moving away from my broken non non-existent love life. “Oh, no. I – No. Sorry, I can’t do that.” “We just want to talk to him. You know, get the "Supernatural" story in his own words.” “He’s very private. It’s like Salinger.” Yeah sure, Salinger. “Please. Like I said – we are, um… ... big... big fans.” Sam had pulled his shirt collar so you could see his tattoo and Dean disgruntled did the same and I pulled my sleeve up to show my wrist. “Awesome. You know what? I got one, too.” She said as she pulled down her skirt to show the one on her ass. “Whoa. You are a fan.” I elbowed Dean again for that. “Okay. His name's Chuck Shurley. And he's a genius, so don't piss him off.” 

I rang the doorbell to this Chuck Shurely’s house and who answered I was expecting and not at the same time. “You Chuck Shurley?” Dean asked in his pissed-off voice. “The Chuck Shurley who wrote the "Supernatural" books?” “Maybe. Why?” “I'm Dean. This is Sam. That’s Y/n The Dean and Sam and Y/n  you've been writing about.” I gave a little wave. And he closed the door. I rang the door again. “Look, uh... I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really, I do. It's, uh, it's always nice to hear from the fans. But, uh, for your own good, I strongly suggest you get a life.” He tries to shut it again but I stop it.

“See it’s funny you say that because we do have lives and You've been using them to write your books.” I said a little aggressively. Dean pushed inside the house. “Now, wait a minute. Now, this isn't funny.” Chuck was fearful. “Damn straight, it's not funny.” I put my hand on Dean’s shoulder to calm him down just a tad. “Look, we just want to know how you're doing it.” “I'm not doing anything.”

“Are you a hunter?” I asked. “What? No. I'm a writer.” “Then how do you know so much about demons? And Tulpas, and changelings?”Dean again advances on Chuck and he falls back on the couch.“ Is this some kind of "Misery" thing? Ah, it is, isn't it? It's a "Misery" thing!” “That’s an amazing story but no we are not fans.” I said sitting next to him. “Well, then, what do you want?!” “I’m Y/n, that’s Sam and Dean.” “Sam and Dean and Y/n are fictional characters. I made them up! They're not real!” 

We drag him outside and show him our car and more importantly the trunk.”Are those real guns?” “Yup. This is real rock salt, these are real fake IDs.” “Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really are my number one fans.That’s, that’s awesome. So, I-I think I've got some posters in the house.” He starts to try to back away from us. “Chuck, stop.” “Please. Wait. Please, don't hurt me.” “How much do you know? Do you know about the angels? Or Lilith breaking the seals?” Sam asked. “The question is how do you.” “Because I wrote it?” “You kept writing?” I questioned. “Yeah, even after the publisher went bankrupt, but those books never came out. Okay, wait a minute. This is some kind of joke, right? Did that – Did Phil put you up to this?”

“Well, nice to meet you. I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother, Sam and my sister Y/n.” “The last names were never in the books. I never told anybody about that. I never even wrote that down.”

We all got back in the house and Chuck was pouring himself a drink. He glugs it down. “Oh! Oh, you're still there.” “Yup.” “You're not a hallucination.” I wish sometimes. “Nope.” “Well, there's only one explanation. Obviously, I'm a god.” “You're not a god.” Sam said to him annoyed. “How else do you explain it? I write things and then they come to life. Yeah, no, I'm definitely a god. A cruel, cruel, capricious god. The things I put you through – The physical beatings alone. And for you Y/n having no time to find love or no one to find-” “Chuck you are not a God.” I am now annoyed.

“Yeah, and we're still in one piece.” “I killed your father. I burned your mother alive. And then you had to go through the whole horrific deal again with Jessica.” Great memories. “Chuck…” About all three of us were now about ready to slap Chuck. “All for what? All for the sake of literary symmetry. I toyed with your lives, your emotions, for... entertainment.” “You didn't toy with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us.” “Did you really have to live through the bugs?” “Yes, it was disgusting.” I said shivering remembering that week. “What about the ghost ship?” “Yes, that too.” “I am so sorry. I mean, horror is one thing, but to be forced to live bad writing... if I would have known it was real, I would have done another pass.” “Chuck, you're not a god!” Dean said raising his voice. “We think you're probably just psychic.” I said stepping in.

“No. If I were psychic, you think I'd be writing? Writing is hard.” “It seems that somehow, you're just... focused on our lives.” “Yeah, like laser-focused. Are you working on anything right now?” “Holy crap.” Chuck said going over to his desk pulling out papers. “What?” “The, uh, latest book? It's, uh, it's kind of weird.” “It can not get more weird than finding a whole book series about your life.” I said with sarcasm. “"Weird" how?” “It's very Vonnegut.” “"Slaughterhouse-Five" Vonnegut or "Cat's Cradle" Vonnegut?” Dean answered. “What?” Sam and I asked surprised. “What?” Dean said back defensively. “It's, uh, "Kilgore Trout" Vonnegut. I wrote myself into it. I wrote myself, at my house... confronted by my characters.” OK so added on weird.

Sam is throwing the laundry in while Dean and I sit together to read Chuck’s story. “I’m sitting in a laundromat, reading about myself sitting in a laundromat reading about myself. My head hurts.” “There's got to be something this guy's not telling us.” Sam added in. “"Sam tossed his gigantic darks into the machine. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth.”” Dean read out and he was right. “Stop it.” “"'Stop it,' Sam said." Guess what you do next.” I read out. “Sam turned his back on Dean, his face brooding and pensive." I mean, I don't know how he's doing it, but this guy is doing it. I can't see your face, but those are definitely your "brooding and pensive" shoulders.” Dean continued. “You just thought I was a dick.” “The guy's good.”

Chuck called us back in a frenzy very worried about something. “So... You wrote another chapter?” Sam asked slowly so Chuck wouldn't explode. “This was all so much easier before you were real.” I agree with that. “We can take it; just spit it out.” “You two especially are not gonna like this.” He said looking at Dean and I. “I didn't like hell.” “It's Lilith. She's coming for Sam.” “Coming to kill him?” I ask. “When?” “Tonight.” “She's just gonna show up? Here?” “Uh... let’s see, uh, "Lilith patted the bed seductively. Unable to deny his desire, Sam succumbed, and they sank into the throes of fiery demonic passion."

“Eww not again." “You're kidding me, right?” Sam laughed. “You think this is funny?” Dean asked angrily. “You don't? I mean, come on. "Fiery demonic passion"?” It does sound ridiculous but then again he did with Ruby so nothing’s out the window. “It's just a first draft.” “Wait, wait, wait, wait. Lilith is a little girl.” “No, uh, this time she's a "comely dental hygienist from Bloomington, Indiana." “ Oh fantastic. “Great. Perfect. So what happens after the... "fiery demonic" whatever?” I ask. “I don't know, it hasn't come to me yet.” “Dean, Y/n, look, there's nothing to worry about. Lilith and me? In bed?” “How does this whole psychic thing of yours work?”

“You mean my process?” “Yes, your "process."” “Well, it usually starts with a headache. A really bad headache. Aspirin is useless, so... I drink. Until I fall asleep. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a crazy dream.” “The first time you dreamt about us?” I asked. “It flowed. It just, it kept flowing. It still does. I-I can't stop it, really.” “You can't seriously believe –” “Humor Us Sam.” I said putting my hand on his shoulder. “Look, why don't we, we just… Take a look at these and see what's what.” Dean said picking up the manuscript. “You –” “...knew you were gonna ask for that. Yeah.” 

We are driving and Sam is reading the Manuscript. “Dean, come on. "The minivan accident wasn't that bad, but Dean was still seeing stars. He scratched absently at the pink flower Band-Aids on his face." “ “I would love to see that personally.” I said from the back seat. “So?” “So, I've seen you gushing blood. You'd use duct tape and bar rags before you'd put on a pink flower Band-Aid.” “What's your point?” “My point is this – all of this – is totally implausible, it's nuts.”

“Look, Sam, He's been right about everything so far. You think he's just gonna ground out at first now?” “Huh. "Dean slid behind the wheel of his beloved Impala and drove off, the plastic tarp on the rear window flapping like the wings of a crow." “A tarp?” “Yeah. On the rear window. And you drive it like that.” “Okay so he doesn't get the details right but that doesn't mean he's wrong about the end result.” “So we’re just gonna run?” “Dude, we are a long way from ready for a face-to-face death match with Lilith.” We pull up to a roadblock and there are police next to it. “What seems to be the problem?” “Bridge is out ahead.” “We're just trying to get out of town.”

“Yeah, afraid not.” “Is there a detour?” “Nope.” “There's not a side road that takes us to the highway?” “To get to the highway, you have to cross that river. To cross the river, you have to take that bridge.” “How deep's the river?” I ask. “Sorry. Afraid you three are gonna have to spend the night in town.”

Dean is now looking at the manuscript while we are ordering at a diner. “Hey, this could be a good thing. I mean, if this is what puts us on the path to Lilith, then all we got to do is get off the path.” “Dean’s right this is a guide to not to do the devil’s tango with Lilith.” “How do you mean?” “It's a blueprint of what not to do. I mean, if the pages say that we go left –” “Then we go right.” “Exactly. We get off-book. We never make it to the end. It's opposite day. It said that we, uh, we get into a fight. So, no fighting. No research for you… No saving us Y/n.” “No bacon cheeseburger for you.” I said glaring at Dean. “Yeah, no problem. I'll just order something else. Hi, uh, what's good?”

“Well, if you like burgers, Oprah's girlfriend said we have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the country.” “Ha sometimes God does give me Bones." I said laughing to myself. “I'll just have the cobb salad, please.” Sam ordered. “Chicken strips and fries for me please.” I said. “I'll have the... veggie tofu burger. Thanks.” “This whole thing's ridiculous.” “Lilith is ridiculous?” “The idea of me hooking up with her is.” “Right like you would never do that.” I said sarcastically. “Guys, for the first time, we have warning that Lilith is close.” “So?”

“So... we've got the jump on her. If we know when she's coming, we know where she's – this is an opportunity.” “Are you – It frustrates me when you say such reckless things.” Dean said trying not to get angry. “Well, it frustrates me when you'd rather hide that fight.” They trying very hard not to fight. “Alrighty here y’all’s food.” The waitress put the plates down. “Thank you. It's not hiding. It's being smart. It's picking your battles. This is a battle that we are not ready to fight. Oh, my god. This is delicious. Tofu is amazing!” Dean committed biting into his burger. “I am so sorry. I gave you the bacon cheeseburger by mistake.” It’s all coming together.

Dean and I praked the car after dropping Sam off  snd were walking away when we looked back and it looked like teenagers were looking into baby. “Hey!” Dean screamed out and went to cross the street. “Wait dean DEAN!” He had got hitten by an minivan.

“I'm so sorry!” “Lady you hit my brother with your car what do you mean Sorry!?” Her daughter was putting … pink band-aids on Dean and he came back. “Dean! Dean you ok?” He looks up and sees the car. “Oh, no…” He ran over to the car and the back window was busted open. So here we are driving to Chuck’s house with the tarp flapping in the back.

Chuck enters the house carrying a huge bag of beer. They start to talk and Dean keeps on asking how Chuck knows everything and he gets to the point that he’s about to punch when someone shows up who I did not expect. “Dean, let him go!” “ This man is to be protected.” “Cas!” “Why?” “He's a Prophet of the Lord.” What the HELL? 

“You... You're Castiel... aren't you?” Chuck said with amazement. “It's an honor to meet you, Chuck. I... admire your work” Cas picked up one of the books and flipped through them. “Whoa, whoa, what? This guy, a prophet? Come on, he's – he's... he's practically a Penthouse Forum writer.” “Did you know about this?” I ask Chuck. “I, uh, I might have dreamt about it.” “And you didn't tell us?!” “It was too preposterous. Not to mention arrogant. I mean, writing yourself into the story is one thing, but as a prophet? That's like M. Night-level douchiness.”

“This is the guy who decides our fate?” I ask Cas quietly. “He isn't deciding anything. He's a mouthpiece – a conduit for the inspired word.” “The word? The word of god? What, like the New New Testament?” “One day, these books – they'll be known as the Winchester gospel.” “You got to be kidding me.” Chuck, Dean, and I say together. “I am not... kidding you.” “If you'd all please excuse me one minute.” Chuck goes upstairs. “Him? Really?” “You should've seen Luke.” “Why'd he get tapped?” “I don't know how prophets are chosen. The order comes from high up on the celestial chain of command.” “How high?” “Very.” 

“Well, whatever. How do we get around this?” I ask. “Around what?” “The Sam-Lilith love connection. How do we stop it from happening?” “What the prophet has written can't be unwritten. As he has seen it, so it shall come to pass.” 

Dean goes into the hotel room to get Sam while I wait outside. And Cas pops up beside me. “Hello, Y/n.” “Hey Cas I met your uh friend Zachariah he kind of sucks.” “Yes well, Zachariah's methods can be extreme.” “Extreme!? he made my brothers and I forget who we are!” “Im sorry, Y/n” “You don’t have to be sorry you didn’t do it.” We stare at each other for a bit before I rember something. “Oh I got you something.” I said hading him a flip phone he looked confused. “Why would I need a phone I can just fly next to you when I ever I need to.”

“Well, Cas believe it or not it’s not really working out for us I mean you scare the crap out of us every time. Also, it’s so I can call you.” “Call me?” “Yeah well, I hate that I can't exactly fly next to you so that is the next best thing so do me a favor and call me even if you don't have any information about the upcoming apocalypse I want to know you're safe.” He ponders what I said. “Y/n?” “Yeah, Cas.” “Thank you.” “No problem.” He gets closer as to hug me but gets interrupted by Dean stomping out of the hotel room. “Dean, where’s Sam?” I asked. “He said he’s staying.” “HE’S WHAT!?” “That’s what I said he wants to fight Lilith now.” “My gosh, we are stupid sometimes,”

I said thinking back to the supernatural books and how the characters were depicted, sometimes being stupid. “Cas can you help?” He said walking over with hope to the angel. “I'm not sure what I can do.” “Drag Sam out of here, now. Before Lilith shows up.” “It's a prophecy. I can't interfere.” “Look Cas we have done everything you have asked But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please.” I said pleading with him. “What you're asking, it's... not within my power to do.” “Why? 'Cause it's "divine prophecy"?” Dean questioned angrily. “Yes.” “So, what – We're just supposed to sit around and, and wait for it to happen?”

“I'm sorry.” “Screw you. You and your mission. Your God. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me... don't bother knocking. Come on Y/n.” He turns to walk away and I look at Cas a bit heartbroken and I think he saw that. “Y/n Y/n!” “What?!” “You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected.” “Right yeah.” “If anything threatens a prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat. Archangels are fierce. They're absolute. They're heaven's most terrifying weapon.” “And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?” “Yes.” “So if a prophet was in the same room as a demon –” “Then the most fearsome wrath of heaven would rain down on that demon. Just so you understand... why I can't help.” He just gave us the answer without giving the answer. I get a smile on myself. I run up to him to give a quick but crushing hug. “Thanks, Cas” “Good luck."

We had pushed Chuck into the room and it worked the room got invaded by this powerful white light and it dispersed and along with it Lilith. We got to finally leave the town. “ So she offered a deal?” I questioned Sam. “That's what she said.” “To call the whole thing off – angels, seals, Lucifer rising, the whole nine?” Dean added into the question. “You didn't think once about taking it?” “You kidding me? You two spent all day trying to talk me off the Lilith track.” “I'm just saying…” “She would have found some way to weasel out of it. And all it would have cost us was our lives.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.” “Anyway, that's not the point.” “What's the point?” I asked “The point is, she's scared. I could see it. Lilith is running.” “Running from what?” “Don't know. But she was telling the truth about one thing.” “What's that?” “She's not gonna survive the apocalypse. I'll make sure of that.” Sam left the conversation off at that and it left me wondering what was going to happen to us and It also really made me hope that Cas would call.

Hey, y'all hope you enjoyed the Chapter thank you so much for reading! I'm so sorry that this has taken so long been a busy month. Just to warn this is a slow burn so it will probably be a while before we get to a romantic relationship but I’m really liking the friendship between Cas and Y/n Im building and I hope you are too. Also, the next two chapters are some of my favorite episodes so look out for that.  And happy late Halloween.

#castiel x reader #castiel #castiel x y/n #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #team free will #spnfandom #supernatural #Supernatural Season 4 #castiel x you #Castiel x reader series masterlist #bobby singer #bobby spn #cas spn #cas x reader #cas x y/n #cas masterlist

[perplexedflower]

SPN Drabble - 6/14: Denial

Fandom: Supernatural.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Crowley x Female Reader.

Type: Drabble.

Words: 550.

Chronology: Any season.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, you're still alive."

"Don't sound so disappointed, I might think you don't like me."

"Because I don't." I said while closing the door behind me.

"Aw, and here I was about to tell you I missed you." Crowley said with his typical smile.

Ignoring his provocations, I looked around the hotel room and to my surprise, saw no sign of the Winchesters.

"Where are Sam and Dean?" I asked with suspicion.

"They left about 10 minutes ago, darling. Said they'd be back shortly."

"You gotta be kidding me..." I let out as I sighed.

My history with Sam and Dean dated back to when I had come across them during a case we unknowingly worked on together. Ever since that day, we had never hunted together again; that is, until I had received an unexpected call from Dean to tell me he and his brother needed my help on a particularly tough one; I had accepted right away, not only because I wanted to help them, but also because a part of me wanted to see them again. However, there was a catch. A guest, to our investigation team. A guest I also had the unfortunate chance of meeting in the past: the very King of Hell, Crowley. I had looked beyond his presence and told the Winchesters I was on board, despite having to work with him.

But now that I was face-to-face with him again, in a hotel room where it was just the two of us, I began regretting my decision. I pretended as if he was not there and walked to a table, which was thankfully far enough away from the sofa on which he was sitting. I opened my bag and pulled out my laptop.

Let's do some last-minute research while waiting for Sam and Dean to return.

But before I had time to even open a tab, I felt a presence behind me.

"Really, dear? You're not even going to ask me how I'm doing, after all this time?" Crowley asked in a teasing voice.

"How's Hell, Crowley?" I uninterestingly asked with a sigh without turning to look at him.

"Fine, thank you." He responded with contentment. "And how are you? Still not determined to sell me your soul?"

Growing tired of his taunting, I turned around in my chair to look at him.

"Listen, Crowley, I'm not here to-"

I cut myself short, seeing the demon had vanished and was no longer behind me. I turned back around, only to see him on the other side of the table, holding my computer in his hands, wearing a satisfied smile.

"You give me my PC back right now, Crowley." I ordered him as I stood up. "Or else I'm gonna-"

"You're gonna what?" He fired back provocatively.

I looked him in the eyes and scoffed.

If you insist on messing with me so much, two can play at that game...

Without a word, I confidently walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his coat, before pushing my lips against his. I took this chance to snatch my computer from his hands, before pulling away.

"That." I said with an inciting smile.

As I made my way back to the table, my cheeks flushed, Crowley scoffed.

"I knew you’d missed me."

#crowley #crowley x reader #crowley x you #crowley fanfiction #crowley fanfictions #crowley drabble #crowley drabbles #crowley imagine #crowley imagines #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfictions #supernatural drabble #supernatural drabbles #supernatural imagine #supernatural imagines #spn #female reader #perplexedflower

[skye-the-dragon]

My Tav!!! :D

I thought I’d share how they look in-game, since drawing them can only do so much lol

If you want some additional info (+more how i see them) it’s under the cut lol

So, my Tav.

Their name is Zion, because they’re essentially a self insert and I’m very uncreative

They’re a sorcerer

They’re nonbinary (use they/them), aromantic (but still willing to be in a relationship when they find a person they feel comfy with), and asexual (sex positive tho)

(Let me explore my sexuality through fiction okay-)

They’re around 180 years old during the game’s events, which I’ve decided is more or less 25-30 human years

They’re a human-drow-dragonborn, but the human traces are very slight because their parents were pure dragonborn and a half-drow, but down a few generations of drow/drow relationships. Their most human parts are the slightly creamy colors to their cheeks and ears, as well as a small amount of almost-white hairs, mostly over their arms and legs

From more draconic features, they mainly have slitted pupils, like a cat, because it’s fun, and their teeth are sharper than average. Plus they have scales, other than on the face, on their biceps, and all over their chest area (no nipples lol). Plus sharper-than-usual nails :)

I’ve also decided they do have a draconic tail, despite that not being an option in in-game customization, because it’s my imagining of the world and I get to do what I want, I am the DM now >:3

On that note, big sucker for wings here, so… you know. They have “retractable” (part-magic) draconic wings. But, to make it less op, I’ve made it hurt like hell whenever they summon them, cause it’s essentially like speed-growing an additional body part with bone in it, then shedding it like a skinwalker on supernatural, so they don’t use that nearly at all, unless under really strong emotions, or under extreme circumstances. But, to make it more fun, their feet also turn draconic when they do that

(Ik people are probably gonna come at me for that one, but eh, I don’t really care. It’s my version of the world, after all. Besides, it doesn’t come up often so you can technically just ignore that)

They have the criminal background, and I don’t quite have their backstory fleshed out just yet, but I know they became a thief to survive after their family was killed due to debt (drow are brutal), then it became a sort of revenge thing, to steal from rich people and such

They got found out at one point, at around 150 years of age, and were hunted down, but escaped the town before they got caught and/or killed, which is pretty much like a banishment if you think about it lol

Since then they’ve just been living sorta on the run, stealing or foraging and hunting to survive, at first in the Underdark, then, later, on the surface

Twas on one of their heists for food the nautiloid got them

Now for some fun facts and other little things!

They actually dislike the sun, it makes their eyes hurt from how bright it is. Were very disappointed because everyone who’s seen it and been in the Underdark praised its beauty and shit, but when they saw it for the first time they were just like “I cannot see”

They still appreciate sunsets and sunrises though

They speak Common, Undercommon, Drowish, and know how to say a few basic phrases in Draconic/Glav (they can read the alphabet as well, just not out loud)

They’re very morally grey. Like, would sell your soul to a devil for a single corn chip with no remorse but would also immediately stand up to your abuser kind of morally grey

They can eat raw and rotten food without much consequence, because their draconic ancestry makes their stomach acid more… well, acidic, so it just melts all the bad stuff away. They don’t like rotten food tho, it tastes bad. Raw meat on the other hand…

Once they get attached to someone they will do anything for them

Despite Astarion’s lines being pretty much copy-pasted from a script, they find them endearing (until they learn about his past, then they want to hold him every time he falls back into that habit)

They have unreasonable amounts of charisma when they want (17), despite the fact they’re a total dumbass other times

Speaking of stats, STR is at 8, so they’re very lean

Their favorite animals are snakes, they just love the noodly babies

They make dirty jokes every chance they get (to the delight of Astarion and demise of literally everyone else)

They hate kids. Like, really. They let that tiefling child who stole the locket from that one guy get slapped lmao

Aside from the visible piercings, they have a belly button one as well

That’s it I think for now. If you’ve read this far, I hope you enjoyed me dumping all the info on you lmao <3

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate iii #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav #bg3 tav #tav #my tav

[purgemarchlockdown]

for character ask game! 👀

please, tell us more, I love hearing about Amane-chan

13, 24, 26, 30

I'd love too! Plus you choose some Incredibly Fun Questions.

13. Your favorite friendship they have

Am I allowed to say the Cat? It's her bestest friend in a sense and the layers of symbolism and metaphor make me love it even more.

If not it's 0308 it's always going to be 0308. I Love those two. It's kinda hard to explain why since their limited interaction in the Timelines have been hinting at Fuuta being indoctrinated by her (or atleast learning about her beliefs) but like- this is the Supernatural Hell Prison I'll take what I can get when it comes to friendships and those two Need Friends.

They seem to genuinely like each other's company too as Amane is the one who approaches him, unlike most of her other interactions and Fuuta asks her for advice not once but twice. It's very sweet I think.

(Sidenote: something I think about, if Fuuta gets indoctrinated will he like...try to find her outside of Milgram? Like...if both of them get out will Fuuta try to find her? And if so how will that go down? It's something that I think about- honestly someone give them as 2D Beat-Em-Up co-op game i think they deserve it)

24. What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

Which one?

That's partially a joke but also- which one? There's so many, she hides so many things for her own safety.

I'll go with her wanting to eat cake though, there's something so painfully normal about it I guess? Like, she just wants to eat cake, that's not a crime or anything, it's a normal dessert. She just...Can't Have It. It really hammers home how arbitrary the Doctrines of the cult Are, or atleast in the way it's enforced on Amane.

26. When do you think they were being "themselves" the most?

This is a very funny question to ask anon and you know it.

Anyway Purge March ending. It's the Purge March Ending, specifically when the line "You’re sorry? I don’t care!" starts up.

I mention sometimes that Amane is using the vow breaking as an "righteous" reason of sorts to murder her mother. If her mother didn't kill the cat Amane wouldn't have a "good" reason to kill her.

But by that line all "righteous" reasons are thrown away to give way to Amane's genuine want for her Mother to Fucking Die, because she never forgave her and Amane Won't Either.

There's a real subtle shift between "I won't forgive you for breaking your vow" To "I won't forgive you for Hurting Me." It's really great I like it a lot.

I think that genuine anger and rage and sadness coupled with how she stops hiding what she wants for a moment really sells it for me as the scene where Amane Momose is the most Her.

(If in T3 she turns into an Actual Creature in her MV I will rescind this btw. T3 Monster Amane manifesting-)

30. The funniest scene they had?

Hm...that one minigram where she gets soy milk and makes Jackalope her accomplice. It's not Exactly the funniest but all the other Minigrams, except for the hair one (which is a personal favorite of mine but not as funny as soy milk) are also nods to Horrible Things That Happened To Her which makes me sad.

#asks #ask game #thanks for the ask! #cw child abuse #cw cults

[ashtraythief]

I notice in that, “so you think Sam and Dean want to have sex post?” It says that only one of them realizes how messed up that is. I have to admit I dropped off the last couple of seasons and only watched the finale. Seasons one through five hold my heart, and I’ve re-watched them like a million times. But yeah, I don’t know what they mean… Which Winchester knows how messed up it is? I think maybe Dean, though I do feel like he’s the one that’s most devoted to Sam. I mean, both of them are devoted. Do you know what that line means haha?

Oh, what an interesting question in response to this beautiful post. (I have no idea what OP meant and it seems the account is deactivated, but since you asked, here are my two cents. Which are different from your idea, so this should be interest 😅) My initial gut reaction thought was Sam. Sam knows. Because in the beginning of Supernatural, Sam's the "normal" one. He's the one who wanted a normal, apple pie life, he's the one who went to college, who broke out of their weird isolated family unit. And when he goes back on the road with Dean at the beginning of season one, he firmly plans to go back on the road, even stays in touch with his friends. Dean's the one who wants Sam back, who wants to go back to their original family unit which arguably was isolated from most other people, and didn't give the boys the opportunity to have longer friendships. Dean's totally fine with it, wants it back, while Sam wants his Stanford life. Or so he thinks. What I find really interesting is now that their dad is gone from the equation, Sam no longer wants to leave Dean. I'm not sure when he decides, Scarecrow is definitely a game changer and then of course Dean makes a deal. And here is the big shift. Like Dean's the originally insane one who sells his fucking souls because he can't bear for Sam to die, but once Dean's life and soul is threatened, oh boy. We saw glimpses of Sam's devotion to Dean throughout seasons one and two, like in Faith where he didn't look the gift horse of pastor Roy in the mouth until Dean makes him investigate the deaths. And then season three, my beloved. Sam's descent into madness trying to save Dean. Working with a demon? Sure, why not. Sam's careful (lol). Using an evil, organ-snatching doctor's formula? Let's do it! Yeah, Dean's soul selling was nuts, but Sam is right there with him. And then there's season five, where Dean splits from Sam because they're each other's weakness and the bad guys know it too. Sam's the one here who's protesting, Dean needs to time travel to get out of his head. And I think from then on forward, both of them know and just kinda don't care? Dean has this phase at the beginning of season 6 where he thinks he can have it both, the normal life with Lisa and Ben and hunting with Sam and sure, the breakup is forced by his vampire misstep (honestly, the writers were cowards here, they should have let them break up slowly and painfully because Dean was on the road more than he was at home which is what I think inevitably would have happened if he hadn't gone all aggressive vamp on Ben and made Lisa break up with him), but Dean still chooses Sam. And then they keep choosing each other. No matter what the writers throw at them lol, they overcome it. And I think towards the end, the late season domestic phase post season ten, I think they both know how weird it is, and they just don't care. They're good with who they are. And while the last five season have the weakest myth arcs and I think mostly weak motw eps, Sam and Dean's relationship, the fact that they chose each other again and again and are now settled and domestic and a unit that is happy being a unit which is so earned after all the bullshit, all of this portrayed by J2's insane chemistry, that was the part that made the other crap bearable. And that's what allowed the show to beautifully culminate in Carry On.

#anon ask #spn meta #wincest #adjacent anyway

[mlobsters]

supernatural s4e19 jump the shark (w. andrew dabb, daniel loflin)

episode should be titled 10 more reasons to hate john winchester

seinfeld s5e22 the opposite - dedee pfeiffer as victoria

another tiny role on seinfeld that i know well because i saw them all enough and at a time when my brain was better at recording things.

okay but also? i think i know her from cybill?? which i probably haven't thought of since the 90s. and sometimes i wonder how i originally knew actors like say, alicia witt and christine baranaski and something like this drags it up from the depths

cybill (1995-1998) dedee pfeiffer as rachel blanders

okay but back to dean getting shat on. dear old dad wanted to give one of his kids a normal life and take him to baseball games and go camping that didn't involve killing monsters. aw, that's nice. except for all the gross child neglect of his kids he was supposed to be fulltime sole caregiver of. granted he didn't get involved in this kid's life until sam was away at college so it's not like the nice things happened simultaneously to the neglect. still hate you, man. and the recap made sure to remind us of how john treated sam's going to college.

that look sam gave adam after dean loses paper scissors rock was cute. was feeling the sibling vibes.

also got me considering the logistics of man sized ventilation inside this random house.

sam giving this kid the dad and dean no friends no life routine is something. remember this little exchange at the gas pump:

s1e6 skin:

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

SAM: You’re kind of anti-social, you know that?

but also harkens back to when dean was just trying to keep everyone alive while the other two were hellbent on self destructive revenge. which dean has been selling sam is just like dad and that's why they don't get along since then, but i'm not quite sure i buy that.

from s1e22 devil's trap:

Sam: We want to kill this demon. You used to want that, too. Hell, I mean, you’re the one who came and got me at school! (Dean scoffs) You’re the one who dragged me back into this, Dean. I’m just trying to finish it!

Dean: Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that? You both can’t wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I’m gonna be the one to bury you. You’re selfish, you know that? You don’t care about anything but revenge.

that line about being the one to bury you lives rent free in my head.

i mean, i get what he's putting down in regards to his revenge quests, but i don't think there's a lot of similarities outside that. maybe because i like sam and john was a child neglecting piece of garbage. that is definitely a big blinder for me 🥴

i'm sure people enjoyed all that uh, excessive wound fingering and such with sam.

but my issue is those very significant cuts through his forearms and he's all fine and dandy in the next scene. he'd have some wicked number of stitches. and i guess nothing major was cut. just fleshy bits that dean can sew back up? i know, medical accuracy is way way WAY down on the list. but when they focus on the volume of blood he's losing so rapidly, i can't help but start to think of the logistics! anyway, made me think about hannibal's big ass scars in a similar place from matthew brown.

okay but also the kid has a point, of the ghouls were only eating dead people, was it really that important to be killing them?

that turned out a lot more therapeutic than i expected. and somehow i didn't know that fate of adam so i was actually surprised. i always am glad for dean to be working through some of his dad issues. sam is full of questionable choices these days. i'll give it to him, the writers, whatever. he really does sell that he's earnestly truly trying to do the right thing. but everything is a flaming pile of shit anyway.

DEAN I mean, I worshipped the guy, you know? I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be. And I see that now.

SAM I'll take that as a compliment.

DEAN You take it any way you want.

i mean.

anyway. okay i liked this episode even though i'm nervously looking at the time with how close the end of the season is and here we are off killing some monsters like it's any other week. this felt like an earlier to mid season episode. quality dean and sam time, daddy issues on blast.

and forever grateful shoutout to supernaturalwiki.com, the documentation is immaculate, found the episode with the bury you line in it in under 5 minutes.

#supernatural #spn 4x19 #adam milligan #spnwatch #hiky #spnhiky #cybill #seinfeld #cybill shepherd #spn 1x06 #spn 1x22 #john winchester #john winchester's a+ parenting #andrew dabb #daniel loflin

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 45 - apple cutting

1:50 "I’m setting down.", fabric rustles right after "down" xD Wow, it has been some time since hitting-the-table-or-mic sounds happened.

5:25 "compared to the cost effectiveness of just buying a boatload of mosquito nets", between "mosquito" and "nets" weird scratching sound.

John Snow, never heard of him. When it comes to infectious diseases the biggest name being tossed around here is always Robert Koch. He was also involved in Cholera research.

"I don’t remember the name, I’m afraid, but he was foreign; Indonesian, I think, or Samoan." - Oh, who could that be?

9:15 "Neil gave me a relieved nod, and headed back to the lab with his own suitcase", at "back to the" again, a weird sound like something's brushing the mic.

"This is when things… started to go wrong. When things started to get weird. I don’t know if it had anything to do with Neil selling that syringe." - Funny, that it was established so early in the podcast that there are object out there, which cancel out certain fears. This and the camera are the only two though, aren't they? I mean, if there would have been more, I think it would have been too obvious that it could become relevant to the plot. I think it was a nice surprise in S5. I like surprises^^

"Now mozzies need to be kept at a temperature of around 23 to 24 degrees Celsius, which might not sound too hot" - 23-24 degrees Celsius is my comfy temperature actually^^ And hell, it would be nice if temperatures stayed at 23-24 degrees in summer.

"There was no time to pull Neil out, so I did the only thing I could. I shut the door." - I think this is a very traumatizing thing to do. Wanting to save someone, but knowing that in doing so you'd be dead as well. So the only thing you can do, is abandoning them.

"He tried to scream, but that just gave them more places to drink from." - Nice way to say that they crawled into his mouth…

Hmmm, more setting-up of Tim's backstory in the supplemental part there.

Jon be like "Why would Tim be interested in the supernatural" - I don't know, Jon, why are you interested in the supernatural, hm? Perhaps a personal experience?

MARTIN "Hey, I just wanted to check if you wanted a cup of tea?" - Martin, you're a blessing.

Anyway, this is super secondhand embarrassment for Jon there XD

Hmmm got me thinking that this statement indicates that at this point Salesa is searching for fear canceling artefacts and chanced upon this syringe before ending up with a better one with the camera

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mod ashes #tma spoilers #mag 45 #lycanlovingvampyre

[hekate1308]

Prompt: Do you even know what this means

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel

It doesn’t matter what Sam says – and he even seems to have learned his lesson in that regard, since he thankfully hasn’t complained about Dean’s life choices for months now, although that might have to do with his new girlfriend Sarah – Dean loves his little antique book shop, and he has never regretted that he bought it on a whim back when he was eighteen and Mr. Bythell wanted to retire.

Yes, some clients can be a handful, and he has several opinions about Amazon that he knows to keep to himself lest they get back to them and he gets buried under the power of Jeff Bezos, but still. There are a lot of wonderful moments when he finds a rare book or can help someone who has been desperately seeking for a title or just needs a break from the stress of every day life. It might be frustrating that he can’t afford a full-time employee, but Charlie and Gilda are always happy to help out, and students like Kevin are happy to take any summer job that presents itself.

And so, he has no plans of changing things. He lives his life, he sells and buys books, there are game nights with Charlie and Gilda and Andrea and Benny and Crowley, when he can get his friend to admit he is actually having fun during those, and everything’s fine.

And then things change, although not in the way he would have assumed if he had expected them to.

Because today the door bell rings out and a new customer comes in. Now, that’s nothing new in and out of itself, but the guy is – to be perfectly frank – hot.

And he says that as someone who has had his fun, if you know what he means.

Still.

“Hey” he greets him, strolling towards him. “Can I help?”

He blinks at him, looking ever so slightly confused and rumpled and oh God, Dean is in trouble. “I just moved here” he then informs him abruptly. “I’m Castiel Novak.”

“Like the angel?” he asks, only learning later he’s the only one who’s ever reacted that way.

Castiel blinks at him again and Dean holds out his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

Two months later

“You should try and do more with the internet.”

Apart from the fact that Cas just pronounced the word as if he has never heard of wi-fi, Dean can’t help but shake his head. “We all know how that would end.”

“I don’t mean just an online-shop. I was thinking about a book subscription service – they are all the range, these days. Maybe something like a mystery box, the sort of thing people unbox on YouTube. People would subscribe and you could choose the books.”

So Cas, who lives in a house where the electricity barely works, just asked him to – “Do you even know what this means?” he asks because he can’t help it – is he really supposed to believe that someone who dresses like Columbo has any idea what the internet is?

“I do sell my honey online” Cas says, sounding almost disappointed, and he’s quick to do damage control.

“Sorry, man. It’s not a bad idea – not a bad idea at all – just – do you think there’d even be a market for it?”

“I don’t see why not” Cas shrugs. “You still sell books, don’t you, even though everyone seems to think they are going out of style, as they say” oh God he’s actually doing quoty fingers and it looks much much cuter than it has any right to “so why should it not work when you develop your own way of doing so in the Internet?”

It might just work, Dean reflects. And really, what has he got to lose? Yes, his bookshop, but he’s always on the brink of doing that anyway…

“Alright” he decides, “Any ideas?”

Cas looks at him and they are back at the staring one another thing, great.

Yet he can’t bring himself to mind too much.

Three years later

“Cas are you smuggling books about bees into the boxes again?”

“They are really interesting! Remember, we got several emails about them just last month…”

He can’t help but admit that, so he kisses his husband instead of saying anything. “Fine” he announces, drawing back, “but next month I get to pick the theme.”

“It’s going to be old-timers” Cas grumbles.

“Are you really going to tell me that I only have one topic of interest?”

Cas looks so guilty that Dean just has to kiss him again. “Hey, look, as long as the customers don’t mind, and they don’t seem to…”

This time when they separate, Cas is smiling at him and Dean – with the roof leaking again, a customer having tried to steal several books yesterday, and Crowley and his mother once more at odds – has never felt more blessed in his life.

#fictober23 #spn #my writings #destiel #castiel #dean winchester

[earlronove]

I did this over at the ol’ twitter (template here) because it seemed like a neat idea to reflect what I’ve done. I actually did a LOT of writing this year! If you’d like to read some writing rambles and my overview of my 2022 writing adventure, you can click the keep reading! I’m very wordy!

Overall, my gut reaction is to say I didn’t do well this year because my sole focus was to get The Divine an agent. Though I did not do that (and am incredibly fed up with the entire system and how much of a dumpster fire trade publishing actually is), I do feel more emboldened to try self-publishing even though my personality may not be quite suited for it. Even self-publishing tires me out because a lot of advice I get needs you to spend money--lots of it--but it’s like, writing is already gatekept enough. I’m fucking poor! I don’t have 1000 dollars for a good editor. I barely have money for bills at this point.

At the very least, ignoring advice that expects you only to self-publish when you either have a lot of cash just hanging out, a spouse you can depend on, or just make it work I guess, self-publishing is still a very viable avenue I’m a little excited to learn a little more of.

So, that’s something! Maybe nothing will come of it, but I do feel excited to try it. I can format the inside of a book pretty well and I think I’m comfortable enough with my art to make a cover (and the cover I’m making for The Divine is amazing if I do say so myself).

Otherwise, what other writing have I done?

The biggest project was Wherever the Stars Call--my Vampires in SPACE. I had unused ideas from Vagabonds (I still need to figure out what I want to do with that since it’s basically 3 books worth of material), so I was like okay I can use those up but with what? And then it became a thread of “but what if vampires in space?!” and while largely, the focus shifted to the queer runaway leads, vampires still play an important part of the story. I adore these characters to bits and I think the story is a fun space adventure. Leaves itself open too if I ever get enough ideas for a sequel (there is some in the works but nothing that pieces together well). I’m pretty confident in this project’s commercial viability, but given my opinion on agents and the publishing world, I don’t quite know if I want to go through the crushing rejections The Divine had to go through right this second. Or even deal with the inevitable “well, one of the leads should get together with the vampire since that’s what young adult books do” or “if the leads aren’t a couple by the end, we can’t sell it” and have to change my ideas to fit whatever mold the market wants. Not that I would change either of those above, market be damned. Regardless, my big goal is to at least try which is why editing it is my #1 goal for next year to get it polished and ready.

Alongside that chonker of a project, I managed to squeeze out three short stories (I meant to do more but then two novellas turned novels happened and then so did the novella that stayed a novella). all my ghosts is my favorite only because I tried something new (way more contemporary than I usually do without anything hugely fantastical (beyond the ghosts) while also vaguely exploring queer identity and the meaninglessness of doing what you think you ought to) and I think I did a good job.

I also began the year posting The Devil in the Woods. 12 part supernatural novella dealing with disaster teens making disaster decisions concerning a demon inside the woods. Overall, I still think I failed the project because it just wasn’t perceived. I’m still not quite sure what I did wrong except maybe my audience really isn’t into that kind of story (contemporary leaning with vague horror vibes). I like the story a lot and I’m learning more trying to get an e-book version of it (images do not play nice). Hopefully next year, I’ll get an e-book version out and a physical copy for myself at the very least.

Then came the two novellas that turned into short novels in their own right. Angel Wings follows Asher as he gains angel wings and has to maneuver through what society expects of him with said wings and how much he wants to break the mold he’s being forced into. Angry gay breaking things, the novel. I liked writing it because it felt cathartic with Asher being frustrated and angry at his perceived place in the world and how much more he believes he is in spite of it. No one wanted to beta-read it, but that’s okay! It’s categorized under “Weird Novels Ronove Loves That No One Else Might” and I’m largely okay with that. Maybe one day it’ll have its day to shine! 

The second novella turned short novel was Star Scourge. Last year, I wrote Light of the World which was about Nayir and his quest with Ara, a little piece of a god that sought to end the world, to maybe finish ending the world. While the description is a downer, the novel ended up being hopeful as Nayir pieces himself back together and as Ara sees the world her god tried to drown and how wrong that might have been. It still needs its editing finished, but as a whole I loved it. Then, here comes Star Scourge which takes a similar premise, localizes it, and puts the one who can end the world at the center. Sol is a fallen star who is prophesied to save the world just like all the fallen stars before him. Except, he recognizes it’s a cycle and one that will not break if he follows the path all the other fallen stars have taken. So, like Ara, he plans to finish ending the world. Unlike Light of the World, this one is a somber downer where Sol is faced again and again with reasons why the world really doesn’t want saving or that it’s simply not worth it. It’s setting is a world literally steps away from being wiped out altogether and how Sol interacts with that and his own desires. It was incredibly interesting to write (I wanted to say fun, but that’s a weird word to use, haha) and I think a good exercise after writing Light of the World where literally, hope was still there. Star Scourge doesn’t have that. A sour band of heroes trying to do their best by the world alongside the star who is secretly planning to end it. Sometimes, we just write sadder things and it’s okay!

Then, finally, I began to write The Magician & the Bard because I’ve always wanted to write a sword & sorcery kind of romp where the fate of the world wasn’t the focus of the fantasy, rather what the characters did within this world I created. It has been a lot of fun to plan (I have so many hi-jinks they can get up to) and it’s been a blast writing and getting to know these characters further. I missed writing pure fantasy and I like that their adventure is a bit more upbeat in general. And though I feel it’s having the same problems as Devil in the Woods at being perceived when I post it, I think more people are keen on reading it! I definitely don’t feel as down after finishing posting the first arc as I did with Devil in the Woods. I just want to write more and throw Vahn and Hawke at any silly idea I can! I have one more arc fleshed out and another one with the broad strokes written down and a bunch of one line ideas to throw them at. One idea even has a dragon!

All in all though, 2022 I think really shows that at heart, I love writing. In the fact of total rejection for the Divine, I’m still writing. And I don’t think that’s going to change. I have so many half-baked ideas just waiting for their chance to shine that I hope I can really get going on in 2023.

Thank you for reading! I felt very pensive about my writing journey this year and I think it helped to write this all out.

#blackbird projects #2022 writing wrap up #sometimes i just like to ramble about my projects #i'm always happy to have more beta-readers #so if you ever want to read anything and we've interacted i probably would be happy to have you!

[vanillavagrant]

Angel wings being compared to bird wings made me wonder, are clipped wings a thing too? As a punishment, style choice, or something an enemy would do to an angel? Is it even possible to clip an angel's wings, or do you need something special to do it?

Oh, let me tell you, I’ve been thinking about this since before even starting this story!

I’ll answer in reverse order. There will be spoilers of chapter 15.

Is it even possible to clip an angel's wings, or do you need something special to do it?

There is definitely a way to do it! Jack clipped a few of his feathers in chapter 15.

“Unlike what Bram had imagined, they hadn’t been yanked out. Instead, Jack had borrowed a pair of decently sized cutters and cut them off one by one. There didn’t seem to be a system or way of prioritizing, but he seemed to make sure they were evenly spaced out.”

He gives to Harry as payment for the spell she performed. Angel feathers can be used in spells, and there’s a manufactured price difference based on what color they are; there isn’t actually a difference in the effect. Jack’s flight feathers (the long ones) are white, so Harry will fetch a higher price selling his. – There are most likely also supernatural beings who enjoy having angel feathers on display just for the aesthetics of it as well.

Angels use flight feathers as humans use locks of hair. Leon has saved flight feathers of all the kids’ first molt. (Molt is when birds shed a bunch of feathers to regrow them.) They reuse down feathers (the fluffy ones) as well. (Bram’s suspicion of the pillows being inhumanly fluffy is correct.)

You can use normal pliers to clip angel feathers. It’s just like their hair or fingernails. The important thing is that you clip them and don’t just yank them out. Pulling them out by force can damage the follicle and cause the feather to not grow back. – Angels can start plucking if they’re stressed or depressed, which Jack also mentioned in chapter 15.

Some extra trivia: Just like birds, angels can get blood feathers too. (Warning Blood) That’s a new feather that still has a blood supply. If it breaks the remaining quill will essentially act as a tap and the bird can bleed out. It’s super scary. When that happens, you are supposed to yank out the feather and keep pressure on the follicle. (I may or may not have planned to have Hannah get a blood feather, but opted out since I thought the blood would be a bit too intense.)

Angel wings being compared to bird wings made me wonder, are clipped wings a thing too? As a punishment, style choice, or something an enemy would do to an angel?

If you clip an angel’s wings to the point where they are unbalanced, they won’t be able to fly or (if they’re fledged) to “teleport”. Jack only clipped a few of his feathers, and he made sure to spread out the location of the feathers, so he can still fly. Most of them will be grown out after his next molt.

If you want to keep the angel detained you can definitely clip their wings. It’s considered extremely brutal, though, since you are crippling them temporarily. With that said, the angels of heaven will do it to their own if they deem it to be “For their own good.”

(Hint. Guess what Leon would do to Jack if he ever got his hands on him again to keep him from running away again. Hint)

If someone (Let’s say a demon during war time.) wanted to kidnap an angel they would clip their wings to stop them from escaping, or even yank them out as a form of torture; though it would be very hard for them to get close enough to the wings to achieve it. After all, fledged angels can dismiss their wings from the physical plane.

I hope that explains it! Thank you for the question!

#question #leon #bram #wings #angels #jack

[kinglyisms-archived]

All Hallows' Eve.

   Meetings are very difficult when Wyatt and Luka are in the same room, that was something all of them knew but they’re mostly surprised when he actually shows up to them. Typically, if Wyatt is late they can make progress in the beginning, if he doesn’t bother showing up at all they can make a lot of progress. Today, it seems to be the latter. Without the Witch present, it leaves just Hiroki, Amir, Toshiro and Luka. Akira shows up to take notes, and because of his gift of being able to tell when someone was lying. Toshiro could do the same, but Hiroki trusted Akira more. As good a person as Toshiro seemed to be, he did have the Wolves best interest in mind and would do what he could for them rather than Abarth itself.

   “Most of Abarith is already decorated for All Hallows’ Eve. The Witches are already vibrating with energy.” Amir commented, inclining his head slightly. “My family doesn’t celebrate it as much as they do but Mother is already preparing for the Annual Fest for the holiday.” All Hallows’ Eve tended to be much more a day for the Witches, but the Mages liked it too. Something about the alignment of the stars or something. 

   Hiroki tries to follow but he has a lot of rules, customs and traditions to keep track of for everyone. It quickly becomes overwhelming for him to remember which race, person, species, can did what, when, where and why. Amir’s invited him over for the fest before and he’s only gone one year, usually he gets stuck in town for the street dance with the Witches, sober, trying very hard to make sure no one kills each other. 

   He’s already stressed. 

   “Right, so your family will be doing their own thing and not partying in the streets?” Hiroki rubbed his forehead and turned his head to Amir who nodded, and Akira jotted that down. “We have to extend the curfew for that night, the Soldiers are already aware. Wyatt’s already sent word that Starlight will be selling drinks outside that night too. A lot of the other stores or just closed entirely that day. Obviously the entire Witches district will be taking the day off. What time do they want to start the festivities?” 

   “Around five, and it’ll go all the way until about three in the morning.” Luka shrugged when they turned to look at him. “I heard it from them in passing.” 

   At least someone knew since the resident Witch didn’t decide to attend the meeting. “Right, and what can I expect the Vampires to be doing that night, Luka?” There has not, thank his luck, been an incident during All Hallows’ Eve. The Witches leave the Vampires alone and the Vampires just party with the Witches. It’s like an unspoken truce that night. Everyone feeding off of each other and the energy bouncing around. 

   Whatever the Supernatural community got from this holiday, it seemed to benefit everyone. 

   “They’ll probably be drunk.” Luka stated and Hiroki placed his head in his hands. Everyone wants to be drunk. “Not just on alcohol,” he added. “But on the energy too. During All Hallows’ Eve the veil between realms is thinnest and the energy merges. Think of it like a power trip. It makes feeding more enjoyable.” 

   “Thank you, for that lack of unhelpful information.” At least they put their power tripping into dancing. He took a breath and picked his head up, finally sliding his gaze to Toshiro with hope. At least some sane member. “Toshiro?” 

   “It’s not a Full Moon this year, we will be fine.” Fantastic. “The others are excited to go out and party. Elliot and I are going to be patrolling to make sure the younger wolves don’t get themselves in trouble.” He talks like he isn’t a young wolf himself. At least he sounded like the only level one here with a head on his shoulders. They apparently didn’t feel whatever magic was going to be dancing in the air on the holiday, which Hiroki will take. 

   “So we have a plan then?” Hiroki sat back up and pushed his hand through his hair, getting his bangs out of his face. He looked toward everyone and let out a tense breath. “The Witches will start the festival around five, I’ll have a few extra soldiers patrolling around for their and everyone else's safety. The school is closed that day, so the kids should be home. We’ll lift the curfew for the holiday, but I want anyone under the age of eighteen home by nine.” So they didn’t get themselves in trouble or caught drinking. 

   “You know the point of a festival is to have fun too, right?” Toshiro asked, glancing between them. Amir looked like he was suffering, but he was going home. Luka looked like he was wishing the world would end him already. And both Hiroki and Akira looked stressed as all hell. The point of a festival, especially one like this, was to have fun. Toshiro ran a Pack of Wolves and he was less worried about them than they seemed about everything. 

   And he really doesn’t think this is a young and naive thing. 

   Hiroki sighed and stood, tucking his hands behind his back. “I know, and I do hope they have fun.” He said, inclining his head slightly. “But I want to keep everyone safe too. The festival is a week long, the peak of it is All Hallows’ Eve. We need to make sure they enjoy themselves safely.” 

#♚ — court meetings. #♚ — resident; hiroki nakamura. #♚ — resident; amir samaha. #♚ — resident; luka reid. #♚ — resident; toshiro kobayashi. #( actual progress can be made if Wyatt doesn't show ) #( also street partying witches hell yeah ) #( halloween for them is a festival )