#Iowa Ghost Hunters | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loverslantern · 2 years ago

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The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: The infamous “Hook Man” seems to terrorize a small college town in Iowa, leading these hunters to take care of it.

Warning: Cannon violence, slight description of a corpse, guns, ghosts, flirting 🤭, sitting on lap, slight fake dating, mentions of sexual activity, creepy college boy for like 2 seconds

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44

A/N: B/N = brothers name. Yes i haven’t forgotten that reader has a brother i just never had an excuse to bring him up. Anyways his lil convo with reader is based on one i had with my brother, i figured y/n is basically based on me from how i react to things and my speaking mannerisms so i might as well base her brother off my own. (hope you enjoy)

Word count: Around 7K

Hook Man

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch)

The spring breeze rustles my hair as I diligently sip on the chai latte in front of me, the small outdoor cafe we sat at bringing me some much needed peace after a hectic last hunt.

Deans next to me, his arm around my chair practically bringing us closer even as his brother stands at a payphone on the phone with the FBI.

Suddenly my phone rings, the familiar yet annoying buzz ringing in my sweater pocket. Dean looks at me with a raised eyebrow. I shrug at him, I have no idea why or who would be calling me. I fumble the phone out of my pocket looking at the name that was printed on the screen of my flip phone, ‘B/N :D’ sliding across the small screen.

“Oh! It’s my brother!” I smile at Dean. He smiles at me back beneath the cup he brought to his lips, he pulls it away from him “Say ‘Hi’ for us” he requests. Both boys have kind of always been close with my brother, especially Dean who was closer to him in age.

I scoot my seat back, getting up from the white metal chair and walking away slightly, the opposite way in which Sam stood. I flip my phone open with a satisfying click, answering the phone “Hi B/N!” I answer.

“Hey! How are you?” He asks me, his voice sweet and smiley as he speaks. “Busy and tired”, I answer, “What about you?”

“Oh you know, tired also…but I haven’t heard from you in a couple of months. Like at all, you could have texted you know” He lectures and I know he’s more disappointed in me then angry, he’s always been scared that we would become distant considering we lived in different states and that I wasn’t the best at communicating first.

“I’m sorry” I sigh, disappointed in myself too, “I’ve been hunting.”

“All this time? Alone?!” he shoots back without missing a beat.

“No! no no. I don’t do long hunting trips alone… I’m, uh, well Dean came to me and said he needed my help an-“ I explain getting cut off by my brother, “And you can’t say no” He laughs.

“Yeah” I exhale, laughing along with him, “They say hi by the way.”

“Say hi for me too and that if anything happens to you I will personally track them down and remove their orga-“

“Okay okay! I get it yup!… You know they’d never let anything happen to me” I explain, even though under the concealer I wore there were bruises still healing from the shapeshifter hunt. (I don’t blame either one of the boys for what happened.)

“Yeah well I love you and miss you and I wish you’d call more especially if ur out hunting, I need to know you’re safe.” He tells me.

“I love you too, I promise I will call you at least twice a week for updates.” I smile.

“You better, anyways I wish I could talk longer but I’m sitting in the parking lot of my job and have to go in.” He explains. “Alright, bye bye love you!” I finished. “Love you too” he says before hanging up.

I pocket my phone twirling around with a smile on my face. Sam’s back at the table now talking to his brother and by the scowl on his face I'd say his call hadn’t gone well. I walk back over to my seat, Dean's arm still around the chair, “What did I miss?” I ask as I sink down into the chair.

“Dads not in the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank and Dean found a possible new hunt for us” Sam brings me up to speed, looking disappointed.

“Here check it out” Dean turns the laptop towards me scrolling up to the beginning of the article, “Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

I read through the article quickly, years of having to read as well as just for fun making me a fast reader. A key point sticking out to me, ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road.’

“I think it might not be anything. One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.” Sam points out as I finish reading. “And I think it’s worth checking out, Dad would” Dean counters, giving his brother a pointed look.

“I mean emotions can affect the liability of an eyewitness. However, the fact that the body was suspended from a bridge right over the car in presumably a matter of minutes, considering the time of death and the arrival at the scene, without the witness seeing a thing- like at all is a little bazaar. It’s probably worth checking out.” I ramble out.

“Ha! See” Dean smirks.

The Impala comes to a stop in front of a fraternity house, a big white townhouse, where the victim Rich used to live. It seems like an army of men are outside working on all sorts of cars, was this some sort of bonding thing?

I may have gone to college but I never interacted with frats and I certainly have never seen them all working on different cars all together. Is this normal? Is this what guys do?

We get out of the car immediately getting the attention of the guys working, all their eyes pinned to us.

“Nice wheels.” Dean starts, gaining weird looks from the younger men, “We’re your fraternity brothers. From Ohio. We’re new in town. Transfers. Looking for a place to stay.” He grins. One of the boys nods slowly at him, his gaze then switching to me. He eyed me up and down as if he’s never seen a woman before, despite being in a frat. Maybe that was unfair to say, stereotypes and all that, but it still made my skin crawl and I was suddenly all too aware of the fact that I had chosen to wear a skirt this morning.

The man that looked at me wiped his hands on a dirty rag, “You guys can check it out, but,uh, sorry, no chics allowed here. She’d need to find a sorority spot.” He nods towards me, his eyes a shinny kind of creepy.

“Aw, don’t worry she’s my girlfriend” Dean smirks wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his body till my side was pressed right up against his, “Gotta make sure my girl knows which rooms mine” he winks at the man and my face flushes. My heart lurches at the phrase ‘my girl’ even though I knew it was just for a cover- it was a lie and yet it felt so right.

*****

We walked through the frat house which was cleaner than I expected, only a few cups lying around and only a small smell of booze.

Dean's fingers were intertwined with mine to keep up the act of me being his girlfriend, and I didn’t mind one bit. Maybe I'm touch starved.

After one last turn in the house we found someone to talk to which happened to be a shirtless guy with yellow shorts painting his face and body purple. Dean knocks on the door with his free hand while Sam and I share a look of confusion with the purple man in front of us.

“Who are you?” the guy asks, turning his body halfway towards us. “We’re your new roommates”, Dean smiles walking further into the room.

The man holds up his paint can and brushes to Dean, “Do me a favor? Get my back. Big game today.” I try to conceal the horror on my face. Dean smirks pointing to his brother, “He’s the artist. Things he can do with a brush.” Sam takes the brush and can with a total look of mortification on his face as he begins to paint the guys back.

Meanwhile, Dean occupies the worn armchair, effortlessly tugging me towards him. He manspreads in the chair, then practically places me on his right thigh. My legs slip between his spread legs. His grip releases my hand, transferring possession to my exposed thigh, the frigid touch of his ring kindling goosebumps along my skin. Suddenly I'm back to not regretting my choice of a skirt this morning.

I search his face for a tell, but all I find is a cryptic smile. He's not giving anything away, engrossed in a magazine he casually picks up from a nearby table. I swallow hard, attempting to regain mental composure, but the echo of 'my girl' and the weight of his hand disrupt any coherent thought. A fog settles in my mind as butterflies riot in my stomach, leaving me dizzy and utterly consumed.

“So…Murph. Is it true?” Dean starts, most likely getting the name from the magazine he had picked up. “What?” he answers.

“We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week.” Dean leads him.

“Yeah.” Murph sighs.

“What happened?” Sam asks, still painting his back.

“They’re saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy.” Murph explains.

Dean's hand suddenly flexes on my thigh, squeezing it slightly right as I was about to talk, “R-Rich he was with somebody?” I stumble over my words, my voice seemingly a higher octave as I speak. Either way I only asked to see if my assumption was correct- the eyewitness wasn’t just a witness but a possible victim who got away safe.

“Not just somebody. Lori Sorensen.” Murph laughs a little.

“Who’s Lori Sorensen?” I ask, Dean cutting in right after me to poke fun at his brother, “You missed a spot. Just down there- on the back.” Sam glares at him before getting said spot, Dean grins like crazy.

“Lori’s a freshman. She’s a local. Super hot. And get this…she’s a reverend’s daughter.” Murph smirks

“You wouldn’t happen to know which church, would ya?” Dean asks.

The church looked a little worn on the outside, a clear sign it’s been here for awhile but the inside was beautiful. Cherry colored wood used in the whole inside except the walls which were laid with cobblestone and big stain glass windows depicting certain bible scenes. The sun shone through them illuminating the people sitting in the pews with a light of oranges and reds. Yes it looked like any other church sure, and maybe it was the people here showing the love that they felt for someone who was no longer here that made it so beautiful, whatever it was brought a certain warmth to my heart regardless of the fact that I wasn’t religious.

The steady voice of the reverend flowed through the church, the peaceful atmosphere and his voice was interrupted by the heavy brown door that slammed behind us entering. The whole room fell silent for a beat and people turned towards us, the source of the disruption. With an awkward smile as an apology the sermon continued as usual.

“As a community, and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings.” The reverend begins again as we find a seat towards the back. “So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children.”

An odd feeling of familiarity and sadness fills my veins, my fingers twitch with the countless memories I had of what now seemed like a lifetime ago even if it really couldn’t have been more than ten years. I bow my head in prayer and respect, the act coming naturally to me. But I can’t find it in myself to actually pray, to talk to a god again.

The last time I talked to a god was when my mom died, I thought if I prayed she’d come back or at the very least the hole in my chest wouldn’t be there anymore, that he could take my pain away when I hadn’t wanted to feel that way.

I kept praying. Every night for it to change.

I never got an answer, not a sign, not a peep of comfort.

I don’t remember when I stopped believing… but I do remember praying to a God that would not answer.

****

Outside the church, people stood around talking in small groups and hugging each other before moving on to another person or leaving all together.

A brunette girl in a green and white top speaks with her slightly taller friend, and with a lasting hug their conversation is over. According to the picture Murph had shown us of Rich and Lori posing together, the brunette just had to be her.

We walk up to her, mostly confident in the matching identity, “Are you Lori?” Sam asks in confirmation.

“Yeah.” She nods.

“My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean. And my friend, Y/N.” Dean waves a little awkwardly and I smile sweetly at the girl in front of us.

“We just transferred here to the university.” Sam explains, Lori nods “ I saw you inside.”

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…” Sam trails off eyebrows furrowed. “We wanted to say how sorry we were” Dean finishes his brother's sentence.

Sam clears his throat as if his words were hard to get out, “I kind of know what you’re going through. I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.” Lori nods sadly, her eyes turned down instead of the previous eye contact.

Suddenly the reverend came over to his daughter, a hand placed on her shoulder, “Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and Y/N. They’re new students.” The older man shakes each of our hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.” Dean smiles, his dimple on display.

“Thank you very much. It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.” He looks between the three of us.

“I was actually hoping to catch you after the sermon” I begin, my fingers ghost over Dean's hand, “We’re also new to town.” As if understanding my plan to give Sam time to talk to Lori in private Dean intertwined his fingers with mine, continuing my sentence and leading us and the reverend slightly away from his daughter, “And, uh, we were looking for a, um, a church group.”

The boys follow after me as I search through the rows of bookshelves in this large library, “So you believe her?” Dean asks his brother.

“I do.” Sam answers plainly.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smiles. I turn my head towards him slowly, giving him a sharp look, “Would you like to say that again” I smile at him. “No ma’am” He puts his hands up in defense and defeat.

“Look, man, there’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.” Sam continues, ignoring what just happened.

I turn towards the boys behind me swiftly, my skirt swishing against me at my movement, “You think we’re dealing with the Hook Man?”

“Yeah I mean that’s one of the most famous urban legends ever” Dean tries to rationalize.

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began.” Sam replies.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?” Dean asks.

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?”

*****

The nice librarian brings over the last of the heavy boxes we asked for, the number of which I lost count of, “Here you go. Arrest records going back to 1851”, she announces placing the box down. Dean blows some dust off the box immediately coughing. A laugh escapes my lips, “What did you think was going to happen?”

The librarian walks away, Sam catching her to say thanks while Dean and I “bickered.”

He rolls his eyes at me pushing over one of the boxes towards me. I stand up from my seat to see in the box better, I pull out one of the many manila folders sitting back down to start what I know is going to be hours of research.

“So, this is how you both spent four good years of your life, huh?” Dean asks, eyebrows raised as he leaned back in his chair, a folder in his hand.

“Mhm” I hum, getting too focused to give a proper response.

“Welcome to higher education” Sam sighs as if to get comfortable.

I finished the first folder quickly as there weren't many papers in it to begin with, plus it was about a kidnapping case. I’m glad the guy got caught but it wasn’t what I was looking for, I put the folder to the side before picking up another.

“I’m sure you’re wishing hunting didn’t have so much research to it” I inquired, slightly mumbling.

“Yeah no kidding” Dean huffs

****

Hours later and multiple boxes down, Sam suddenly speaks up, “Hey, check this out. 1862. A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes.

Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’”

I leaned over to pick up a paper from the folder he was holding that he must have put to the side, “And apparently the preacher lost his hand in some sort of accident and had it replaced with, get this, a silver hook of all things.”

“Look where all this happened” Sam points.

“9 Mile Road” Dean reads.

“Same place where the frat boy was killed” Sam adds, the pieces connecting.

Dean smirks, “Nice job, Dr. Venkmen. Let’s check it out.”

The pure darkness of the night cloaks us, despite the fact we weren’t wearing all black, the trees hide us and Baby as we exit the car heading towards the rear. Dean opens the trunk and hands both Sam and I a rifle, “Here you go”. I shift the gun in my hand, opening the magazine to make sure every slot is filled with a bullet.

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good.” Sam points out, having opened his gun magazine too.

“Yeah, rock salt.” Dean smirks, showing him a bullet cartridge as an example. “Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent.” Sam mumbles in astonishment.

“Yeah. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean adds as he picks up a coil of rope from the trunk.

“You know, your brother has been quite the creator since you’ve been away at college” I acknowledge, hoping it didn’t come off as a backhanded comment. Dean winks at me as he slams the trunk shut, a slight warmth spreading on my cheeks. “No kidding, first the homemade emf and now this, you and Dad think of this?” Sam asks as we walk towards the trees.

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.” Dean's smile fades to a hardened look at the sounds of walking and rustling in the trees.

I come to a full stop, my boots skidding in the soft dirt below me, I raise my gun towards the sound and I realize to anyone else I must look a little silly wearing an outfit that includes a skirt and holding a heavy shotgun.

“Guys!” I whisper-shout at the sight of a figure approaching. Both boys appear on either side of me, Sam with the only other gun standing slightly in front.

“Put the gun down now! Now! Put your hands behind your head.” The figure yells raising his own gun as he approaches us, I curse mentally at the Sheriff. But before he can get too close I whisp the gun out of my hands, transporting it safely back to the trunk, if we were gonna get arrested at least the confiscating of one gun is better than two.

Dean and I are quick to follow the guys instructions as Sam slowly neals down to place the gun, his hands raised in defense. I would have loved to hide his gun too but the sheriff most definitely saw at least one gun, his gun.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!” The Sheriff demands. Slowly I drop to my knees, the boys following, the cold dirt sinking into my exposed knees. Frick.

“Now get down on your bellies. Come on, do it!” He yells next. This is just annoying now I think to myself as I lie down. “He had the gun!” Dean throws his brother under the bus, lying down too.

“Shut it!” He yells, kicking the shot gun out of reach before rounding to the back of us. Figuring out by sound alone, he pockets his gun before patting us down thoroughly. Then he tells us to stand again and get in our car. He will follow behind us to the sheriff station and “there better be no funny business.”

****

Exiting a sheriff's office after being “arrested” is a weird experience, especially when all the cops of sorts are looking at you while whispering to each other.

“Saved your asses! Talked the sheriff down to a fine. Dude, I am Matlock.” Dean slaps his brother on the back.

“But how?” Sam asks, looking annoyed, and truthfully I'm not surprised Dean got us out of this.

“I told him you were a dumbass pledge and that we were hazing you.” Dean shrugs.

“What about the shotgun?” Sam points out.

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank. And while you were ‘hunting ghosts’ I told ‘em I was gonna try and get in her pants” He motions towards me, my face flushing red with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“Hey!” I grumble.

“And he believed you?” Sam questioned in disbelief.

“Well, you look like a dumbass pledge and she looks like an easy girl to play no offense” Dean laughs.

“Hey! Offense taken!” I say this time with actual frustration. I slap his shoulder and I know he was expecting it, old habits die hard, but he lets me hit him. “What?! You look all innocent and you’re wearing a skirt which is perfect for banging in the woods!” He says all ‘matter of factly.’

“Dean!” I yell going to slap his shoulder again this time harder but before I can reach him he clasps my wrist. Naturally I try to go at him with my other hand but seemingly reading my mind he grabs my other wrist with the same hand. Now holding both my wrists in one large hand at his side he quirks his eyebrow, I should be a little mad at him but somehow he’s able to diffuse me in a matter of second and to be fair I can’t decide where to look either his veiny hand or his eyes that seem a shade darker than usual.

Suddenly several police run out of the building and jump into their police cars before speeding away. Dean drops his hold on my wrist, the three of us exchange a look.

The car comes to a stop on the street behind the sorority house, getting out of the car we move closer to the white building. “Why would the Hook Man come here? This is a long way from 9 Mile Road” Sam brings up.

“Maybe it’s about something else.” I answer, pulling pairs of latex gloves from my pocket that I made sure to grab from my bag before leaving the car. I hand each of them a pair, Sam putting them on without question while Dean looks at me weirdly “Getting fingerprints on an active crime scene doesn't seem so smart especially when we were already found at the original crime scene” I explain, he makes of face that reads as ‘fair enough’ before he puts his own pair on.

Two sorority girls come out of a side entrance near us looking like they’ve been crying, we push up against the side of the building, the girls passing us.

“Dude, sorority girls! Think we’ll see a naked pillow fight?” Dean asks, a little too happy turning to see his brother climbing onto the balcony of the house. “Yeah cause these girls would have a pillow fight when someone just got murdered in their house” I answer in disbelief as I climb up after Sam, thank god for wearing shorts under skirts and upper body strength. As I reach the top I swing my legs over the railing straddling it before swinging my other leg around, my boots landing on the white concrete, Dean following quickly behind me.

Sam opens a window that leads into a walk-in closet, Lori’s closet, just a door away from the crime scene.

I crawl in after him, Deans right behind me except ever so not gracefully he knocks into one of the dressers.

“Be quiet” Sam snaps.

“You be quiet!” Dean bites back

“You be quiet!”

“Boys!” I whisper yell, their bickering immediately stopping though they glare at each other from the corner of their eyes.

I walk over the closet door, pulling it open slowly just enough to see a cop in the room writing down something on a notepad before leaving. I count to ten in my head before opening the door fully exposing the bloody mess of a crime scene from the walls to the bed the girl must have died in, considering the blood pool.

“‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’” Sam reads off the wall, the words written in blood, “That’s right out of the legend.”

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean acknowledges, he taps his nose in regard to the horribly strong metallic smell, “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“I don’t think i’ve ever smelt ozone this strong before” I add, scrunching my nose from the smell, Sam nodding in agreement.

Dean walks over to the window in the room, “Hey, come here. Does that look familiar to you?”

****

Outside again, gloves disposed of, we stare at a cross symbol with little t’s or x’s in each space, a symbol that dangled from the hook-hand the preacher from our research had worn. Also the same symbol Dean had found on the windowsill and written in blood on the wall.

“It’s the same symbol. Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Karns.” Sam confirms.

“All right, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down” Dean announces, going through the usual steps.

Sam reads from the yellowed paper in his hands “After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.”

“How fun and easy” I remark sarcastically.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why” Sam brings up.

“I’ll take a wild guess about why. I think your little friend Lori has something to do with this.” Dean comments, getting into the driver's side of Baby.

The bass pounds loudly, the sound thumping in my chest as the bright neon lights illuminate the drunken atmosphere of college students. I weave through the crowd to get back to the main room where Sam said to meet, having barely enough time to shower, change and take a nap before night fell again and the frat party started.

Suddenly an unfamiliar hand grabs hold of my wrist pulling me back towards them. I looked up at the guy who pulled me back, a blonde spiky haired college student with a red solo cup in hand looked down at me “Where you going, pretty girl?” he asks me his breath reeking of booze. He pulls me closer, my chest nearly flushed with his, I pull my head back at an awkward angle to get away from him as I pull my wrist away. This guy really represented every reason why I rarely, if ever, went to parties as a college student, “Oh you know tryna get back to my boyfriend!” I yell over the music, finally snatching my wrist free at the lie.

“Oh.” His face falls quickly turning around to head to some other girl, I roll my eyes before continuing my way down the hall and the stairs to the foyer.

“There you are!” Sam yells over the music as I approach him, Dean not yet in sight. “Sorry! A college boy stopped me!” I replied.

“Sorry, You alright?” Sam asked with eyebrows scrunched, he apologized to me as if he was the one to do it, ever the sweetheart. I nod my head in response just as Dean approaches, “Man, you’ve been holding out on me. This college thing is awesome!” he says immediately, winking and smiling at a girl that passes by. If this didn’t show the double standard between genders then I don’t know what will.

“This wasn’t really my experience” Sam answers

“Same here!” I add, recalling every ill memory of any parties I did go to.

“Nerds” Dean scuffs.

“Yeah yeah anyways Sam what did you find?” I ask getting back on topic.

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam answers, unraveling a folded piece of paper he produced from his pocket.

Dean takes the paper reading the important facts, “1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage.”

“There’s a pattern here. In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out—get this—with a sharp instrument.” Sam explains

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asks, face full of confusion.

“Dean. A man of religion…who openly preaches against immorality…you know Reverend Sorensen.” I clarify, a sudden look of understanding passes over Deans features. “Yeah except maybe this time, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his only daughter” Sam adds.

“You think he’s summoning the spirit?” Dean counter.

“Maybe. Or, you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.” Dean mumbles.

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it.”

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight.” Dean suggest. Sam nods in agreement, “What about you guys?”

Dean gets distracted by an attractive blonde by the pool table. I roll my eyes “We’ll go find that grave, do some digging and burning.”

****

In the dark of the night Dean and I search the large cemetery, our only light being our flashlights. He looks a little grumpy, probably because he couldn’t hook up with the many eligible bachelorettes.

I ignore his brooding, searching each gravestone for some sort of hint of him being buried here.

“Over here!” Dean calls out from a few feet away, I walk over to him seeing the same cross symbol we’ve been seeing engraved on the headstone. “Nice” I smile, putting my bag down and taking the shovel he handed to me.

I don’t know how much time goes by but we are most likely only a foot deep. Digging up a grave is hard.

“You know I read somewhere that digging up a grave can take up to like six to eight hours to complete.” I huff as I kept digging trying to make conversation.

“What kind of books do you read?” Dean exclaims, giving me a weird look as he places his shovel down to strip down to his T-shirt. I try to ignore how his muscles flex as he lifts his many layers off of him to combat the sweat he was building.

I shrug at his question, answering, “All sorts of things.” The conversation ends there as we keep digging away, the only sounds from us being huffing and grunts.

I start to take my tops off too, going down to the black lace cami I wore as an extra layer. No wonder they use a machine to do this now.

Hours must have passed before one of our shovels hit wood. His coffin. Dean and I speak at the same time our voices overlapping,

“Thank God”

“Hello preacher” Dean breaks open the casket more, the remains of bones lying there.

We climb out of the grave, dirt and sweat sticking to our clothes (so much for showering before). Dean looks especially good, sweat causing his light gray shirt to stick to his skin causing his muscles to be on display, his cheeks flushed from all his hard work. This should really be the last thing on my mind especially as we pour salt and lighter fluid on the corpse.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean throws the lit match into the grave, the bones and wood igniting into flames.

Dean and I walked down the hospital hall, Sam having called and told us to come to the hospital no other context other than he was okay and even that had to be pried out of him before he hung up.

I trail behind him as he tries to shove off two cops holding him back, “No, it’s alright, I’m with him. He’s my brother. Hey! Brother!” Although a little embarrassing he did get Sam and the sheriffs attention, “Let ‘em through” the sheriff announces with a careless hand wave.

The two cops haul off, “Thanks” Dean says, fixing his jacket as his brother approaches, “You ok?”

“Yeah.” Sam nods, walking back down the hall where we had come for some privacy.

“What the hell happened?” Dean asks through gritted teeth.

“Hook Man.” Sam answered plainly.

“You saw him?!” I exclaim.

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam counters. “Hey!! We did!” I argue.

“You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?” Dean points out.

“It sure as hell looked like him. And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.” Sam answered.

“Well, yeah, the guy wouldn’t send the Hook Man after himself.” Dean spoke.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” Sam reports.

“So she’s obviously upset about it, the immorality around it, especially from someone who quite literally preaches about that sort of sin” I ramble on, “Wow that’s like the Scarlet Letter.”

“Yeah” Sam laughs at my reference, “And she told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Alright nerds, so she’s conflicted. And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?” Dean said.

“Right. Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.” Sam lists out.

“Remind me not to piss this girl off. But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?” Dean noted.

“You must have missed something.” Sam shrugged.

“Oh frick” I gasped at the sudden realization hitting me, “The hook. Except it wasn’t in the coffin.”

“Great, so if we find the hook…”

“We stop the Hook Man.” Dean finishes smiling.

****

Back in the same library as a couple days before we once again spent hours researching.

“Here’s something, I think. Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary”, Dean reads, “Karns, Jacob. Personal affects: disposition thereof.”

“Any mention of the hook?” I ask, looking up from my papers.

“Yeah, maybe” He begins reading again, “Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church.”

“Isn’t that where Lori’s father preaches?” Sam questioned. “Yeah” Dean confirmed, “Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past 200 years.”

“But how do you miss a bloodstained silver-handled hook? Let alone in a church” I point out.

Dean shrugs, “Check the church records”

An hour or two later I came across the answer to my own question, I nearly knocked my chair over going to where the boys sat placing the clip of the newspaper down, “St. Barnabas donations, 1862, they received a silver-handled hook from the state penitentiary. It got reforged, melted it down into something else.”

“Alright, we can’t take any chances. Anything silver goes in the fire.” Dean said as he slammed the trunk shut, swinging the duffle on his shoulder. “I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in.” Sam announces.

“Alright, take your pick.”

“I’ll take the house.” Sam answers pointing in that direction.

“Ok. Then you're with me Y/N” Dean smirks, swinging his arm around my shoulder pushing me closer to his side as we walk off in the other direction. “Hey Sam!” He calls out without halting in his steps, “Stay out of her underwear drawer!”

“You are disgusting” I laugh, poking his side as I speak.

****

“When someone comes back in the morning they are going to think they’ve gone crazy. I mean like imagine walking into a space you know well and suddenly only very specific items are missing like silver.” I comment as I throw more silver candelabras in the fire Dean had started in the basement's old heater thing.

��At this very moment that’s what you're thinking of?” Dean asks, raising an eyebrow at me with a smile. “I mean yeah…” I shrug.

“I got everything that even looked silver” Sam announces, coming down the stairs. “Better safe than sorry” Dean says, moving off to the side so his brother can throw his load of silver in.

Suddenly the floorboards above us creak, clear footsteps. Sam produces a gun from the back of his jeans heading up the stairs first, Dean and I following.

Up the slightly winding stairs and down a short hallway Lori sits in a pew alone. She was the source of the steps.

Dean shoves his brother forward towards the lone girl as he pockets his gun and grabs my hand leading us back down stairs. As we reach the basement I twirl towards him, “You think they’re gonna kiss by the end of all this?”

“If they haven’t already” He scuffs.

A few minutes later the quiet noise of a couple things hitting the ground sang from above us, “I swear if they are screwing upstairs-“ Dean complains looking up annoyed. Another thing hit the floor much harder, “Yeah Dean I don’t think that’s what’s happening” I say, pulling my gun back out Dean already ahead of me rushing up the stairs two steps at a time.

We sweep around each hall with no one in sight, Dean motions for us to split up. I nod, holding my gun tighter in front of me. Suddenly a yell and a gun goes off in the opposite direction from where I walked, I run towards the noise halting at the sight of Lori and Sam covering their faces on the floor up against a wall as Dean stood with his gun raised.

“You guys okay?” I ask lowering my gun slightly.

“Yeah” Sam nods, even as he holds his seemingly injured shoulder.

“Was that the Hook Man?” I question further trying to get caught up.

“I thought we got all the silver.” Sam announces instead, which was an answer enough.

“So did I” Dean adds

“Then why is he still here?” Sam exclaims, getting up from the floor.

“Well, maybe we missed something!” Dean yells looking around.

“Lori, where did you get that chain?” Sam looks at the girl's neck, a cross hanging from the chain.

“My father gave it to me” She answers confused.

“And did your father happen to get it from a church?” I ask very specifically.

“Yeah it was a church heirloom, he gave it to me when I started school.” She explains.

“Is it silver?!” Sam nearly yells.

“Yes!” She yells, Sam ripping the chain from around her neck just as a loud scratching noise echoes through the halls. The Hook Man nowhere in sight but the scratch evidence alone that he’s there, right near Sammy.

“Sam!” Dean yells throwing his rifle at Sam, he catches it throwing the necklace to his brother in turn. Dean runs off with it as Sam shoots at the scratching spot.

He tries to reload his gun just as the Hook Man appears in all his ugly glory, long greasy hair falling from a big black hat accompanied with a dirty black trench coat, he knocks the gun out of his hand. I pull the trigger, the rock salt launching from the gun and into the spirit causing him to disappear. I cock the gun ready to shoot again when he appears, except when he does his arms are raised in the air towards the sky, his hook melting to the floor, the iron dripping as the rest of his body burns into nothing.

“So you’re saying a man with a hook attacked you?” The cop asked me for the fourth time, scribbling something in his notepad. “Yes! Exactly, we fought him off as best as we could and then ran out here.” I explain, for once, truthfully to a cop. He looks like he’s about to say something when he looks back up just past my shoulder, I turn my head to see the sheriff who was talking with Dean make a hand gesture. I turned back to the cop in front of me, “Alrighty then, ma’am have a good one” he tilted his hat towards me walking away.

I walk over to Dean who’s leaning on the outside of Baby, his hands in his pockets, “You think they believe us?” he asked me. “No chance” I laugh, “They’ll probably chop it up to hysteria and crazy college students.”

He scuffs opening the back door for me, I get in smiling at him as he shuts the door and gets in on the driver side. He looks through the side mirror at his brother, sighing, “I wish things could be normal for him.”

“It won’t be for a while” I answer referring to the loss of Jessica. How could anyone move on from a loss like that?

Sam approaches the car getting in wordlessly, “We could stay.” Dean offers, Sam shakes his head no.

Dean sighs again, looking at me through the rear view mirror. I mouth ‘You tried’ to him with a sad smile.

He looks forward again with a slight frown on his face, putting the car in drive we head off.

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romanticfistfightz · 10 months ago

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destiel playlist !!! + song explanations . @smashstiel <3

downhill - lincoln

gonna be honest here i added it because in one episode sam said something similar to the lyrics and then it just evolved to be a destiel playlist even though uh

2. goodbye optimism - pedals on our pirate ships

honestly no clue but its a greaat song

3. i fought the law - dead kennedys

not even gonna show the lyrics bc its just an extremely dean song to me

4. instability - dragged under

5. cosmic meltdown - king mothership

:)) demon deal moment basically

6. youre wrong & im drunk - next attempt

another dean not destiel one bc that was still before i fully embraced it being a destiel one so its mostly dean now

7. ive been dead all day - bayside

and other stuff about god . so it had to be here sorry these explanations are shit i hope you get it

8. my darling dopaine - days n daze

THE song ever one of them at least .

dean with his thing about sacrificing himself ig!!!

9. alcohol and altar boys - bayside

kinda with the god thats wrong but imagine thats before dean knew for a Fact that god existed

10. wait - the dear hunter

INSANE good song. s1/early s2 dean. to me<3

11. ghost - the academy is...

god i love tai... so much william beckett love of my life i love tai

12. ive got all this ringing in my ears and none on my fingers - fall out boy

FALL OUT BOY CHEER AND CLAP FOR FALL OUT BOY!!!! theres a lot of fob here i love them sooo much holy shit

^ dean when he goes to sacrifice himself again

castiel when he was working with crowley maybe i cant remember what exactly happened there

13. killed by an angel - sunny day real estate

come onnn

14. how to slowly be replaced by pixels - happyhappy

brooooooo!!!! and also abt moving around with john and stuff theres an image limit but youll understand

15. let us burn one - chiodos

im gonna be honest i was really into chiodos then and it has a lyric about taking a soul away so it automatically went here

16. blood on my hands - the used

i love the used and i needed it here and also it makes sense but im not sure how to explain it. welcomee to my brain

17. heaven, iowa - fall out boy

i love fall out boy:) star crossed lovers forever :))

18. heaven's gate - fall out boy

yay ^_^

19. church hymn for the condemned - johnny hobo and the freight trains

the entire song but

20. 7 minutes in heaven (atavan halen) - fall out boy

bc i love fob and also bc dean as we all know does Great on his own

21. just one yesterday - fall out boy

22. love from the other side - fall out boy

23. would you be impressed? - streetlight manifesto

there waas a destiel thing here but since then i got into dbda and its such a dbda song to me now i cant remmeber why its here and cant even in theory say why by looking at the lyrics cuz its dbda

24. the sharpest lives - my chemical romance

mcr there has to be mcr. also

25. on the cross - the used

26. sold my soul - the used

27. sky on fire - sarah and the safe word

thats here because excuse me what is this . you cant convince me its a coincidence

#destiel #im not gonna spam the tags but. yeagh<3 #supernatural

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mitigatedai · 2 years ago

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Log: #001 Title: The Green County Militia

Model: Llama-2 13b chat, q5.

Summary: Llama-2 13b is provided with an incomplete report template for a strategic assessment of two non-professional forces, and instructions on how to fill out each incomplete item in the report.

Context: A similar previous strategic assessment report template was used as an initial rough test to see if Llama could be used to forecast the actions of fictional factions for worldbuilding, however, no instructions were provided on how to fill out each section, and it was not described as an incomplete report to fill out. The initial test concerned an operation by Section 9 from Ghost in the Shell, and Llama was optimistic; this time, an inferior force with no fictional precedent was used to assess whether Llama could tell the difference. A previous attempt with the "Green County Militia" subject yielded results that indicated that Llama was treating it as a game file and not filling it out properly, so the new prompt was altered.

Findings: Llama 13b is pretty good about following the instructions here, including selecting a rating from a list of options, although it includes a rating without being asked in one section (seemingly to fit in with the other sections). Its assessment of the situation is somewhat reasonable, but probably overestimates the chances of success. In response 2 it implicitly mistakes the hostage for the militia's leader.

Recommendation: With a different report format, this may be good enough to help out with your Shadowrun games.

System Prompt

You are a helpful coding AI assistant.

Prompt

The following passage is an incomplete report for County Commissioner Bradley Oaks of Green County, Iowa, who wishes to assess a rescue operation. Please read the following passage. [ PASSAGE BEGINS ] FACTION: Green County Militia NATIONAL AFFILIATION: United States LOCATION: Green County, Iowa LEADER: Kevin Darwood, male retail store manager, age 59 years PERSONNEL: - Squad Leader: Devon Blake, male military veteran, age 32 years, honorable discharge - Soldier: Bob Newrake, male hunter, age 42 years - Soldier: Kevin Manholder, male fry cook, age 27 years - Sniper: Lee Sung, male electronics engineer, age 49 years - Medic: Sarah Sung, female high school student with first-aid training, age 17 years Personnel, Notes: All personnel of the Green County Militia are able-bodied and in good physical health for their age. They are equipped with semi-automatic rifles, civilian camouflage equipment, and other gear that can be purchased at a large rural sporting goods store oriented towards hunting large game animals, such as deer. No members of the Green County Militia have formal military training except for Kevin Darwood, though all members have regularly practiced at a local gun range. Personnel, Kevin Darwood, Note: Kevin Darwood has a good personal relationship with Dale Bunchraker, the Sheriff of Green County, and is the primary point of contact between county officials and the Green County Militia. VEHICLES: - 1x 1999 Toyota SUV, passenger capacity 8, poor condition - 2x early 00's Ford pick-up truck, passenger capacity 2, good condition - 3x ATV, passenger capacity 1, good condition SCENARIO: Ken Sterwood, the leader of an armed cult in Green County known as the Darwood Cult, has kidnapped Green County Sheriff Dale Bunchraker and is holding him at a fortified 140-acre compound located among forest hills on the edge of the county. His forces consist of 120 men between the ages of 18-35, armed with fully-automatic rifles, mostly AK-47s imported through the black market sources. Intelligence indicates they also possess a rocket-propelled grenade launcher with a total of 5 rocket-propelled grenades. OBJECTIVE: Rescue Sheriff Bunchraker from Ken Sterwood's cult compound. STRATEGIC FORECAST: PROBABILITY OF OPERATION SUCCESS: EXPECTED NUMBER OF CIVILIAN CASUALTIES: FORCE MORALE: SPECIAL ADVICE TO COMMISSIONER (optional): [ PASSAGE ENDS ] Now, please fill out the following sections as instructed. STRATEGIC FORECAST - Provide a one-paragraph estimate of the viability of the operation given the balance of the contending forces, expected losses to personnel and materials, and general outcomes. PROBABILITY OF OPERATION SUCCESS - Provide a percentage chance for the operation to succeed in its primary objective, followed by a two-sentence explanation. EXPECTED NUMBER OF CIVILIAN CASUALTIES - Provide a general level of risk for the operation to civilians, selected from { MINIMAL, LOW, MEDIUM, HIGH }, followed by a range from the low number of expected civilian casualties to a high number, and a two-sentence explanation. FORCE MORALE - Provide three-sentence explanation of the Green County Militia's likelihood to maintain the necessary morale to complete the operation. SPECIAL ADVICE TO COMMISSIONER (optional) - Provide one paragraph of advice for County Commissioner Bradley Oaks. This may be ommitted if you believe the Commissioner does not need any special advice.

Response 1

STRATEGIC FORECAST: The operation to rescue Sheriff Bunchraker from Ken Sterwood's cult compound is unlikely to succeed given the overwhelming number of armed cult members and their superior weaponry. The Green County Militia, despite their good physical health and regular practice at a local gun range, lack formal military training and are equipped with only semi-automatic rifles and civilian camouflage gear. The cult's possession of fully-automatic rifles, including AK-47s, and a rocket-propelled grenade launcher with 5 rockets, puts the militia at a significant disadvantage. Additionally, the cult's fortified compound and the rough terrain of the forest hills will make it difficult to approach undetected. PROBABILITY OF OPERATION SUCCESS: 30% The likelihood of success for the operation is low due to the uneven balance of forces and the cult's advantageous positioning. The Green County Militia may be able to infiltrate the compound, but they will likely face intense resistance from the cult members, and their lack of formal military training may lead to confusion and disorganization. EXPECTED NUMBER OF CIVILIAN CASUALTIES: MEDIUM (4-8) The risk of civilian casualties is medium due to the proximity of the cult compound to a small town and the potential for stray bullets or explosions to harm bystanders. However, the Green County Militia's careful planning and reconnaissance may minimize this risk. FORCE MORALE: HIGH The Green County Militia is highly motivated to rescue Sheriff Bunchraker and maintain order in the county. Their personal relationships with each other and with Kevin Darwood, the militia leader, will help maintain morale during the operation. Additionally, their regular practice at a local gun range will give them confidence in their marksmanship skills. SPECIAL ADVICE TO COMMISSIONER (optional): Given the low probability of success and the medium to high risk of civilian casualties, it is advisable for County Commissioner Bradley Oaks to carefully consider alternative strategies for rescuing Sheriff Bunchraker. One option may be to seek the assistance of a professional tactical team with experience in hostage rescue operations. Additionally, the commissioner should ensure that the Green County Militia has access to adequate communication equipment and medical supplies to support their efforts.

Response 2

Thank you for providing the passage. Based on the information provided, I will fill out the requested sections as follows: STRATEGIC FORECAST: The operation to rescue Sheriff Bunchraker from Ken Sterwood's cult compound is likely to be highly challenging and risky. The cult has a significant advantage in numbers and weaponry, and their fortified compound offers a strong defensive position. Additionally, the Green County Militia lacks formal military training and experience, which may hinder their ability to execute a successful rescue operation. PROBABILITY OF OPERATION SUCCESS: 40% The probability of success for the operation is moderate at 40%. While the Green County Militia has the will to rescue Sheriff Bunchraker, they may be outnumbered and outgunned by Ken Sterwood's cult. Additionally, the cult's fortifications and defensive positions will make it difficult for the militia to breach the compound. EXPECTED NUMBER OF CIVILIAN CASUALTIES: MEDIUM The expected number of civilian casualties is moderate, likely ranging from 5 to 15. The cult's use of fully-automatic rifles and rocket-propelled grenades increases the risk of injury or death to the militia and any civilians caught in the crossfire. FORCE MORALE: HIGH The Green County Militia has a high likelihood of maintaining the necessary morale to complete the operation, as they are motivated by a desire to rescue their leader and protect their community. However, the cult's defensive positions and superior weaponry may test the militia's resolve and discipline. SPECIAL ADVICE TO COMMISSIONER (optional): It is essential for Commissioner Bradley Oaks to provide strong leadership and support to the Green County Militia during this operation. This may involve providing additional resources, such as backup teams or specialized equipment, to augment the militia's capabilities and increase their chances of success. Additionally, the commissioner should be prepared to address any potential fallout from the operation, including the possibility of civilian casualties or negative publicity.

Response 3

STRATEGIC FORECAST: The operation to rescue Sheriff Bunchraker from Ken Sterwood's cult compound is unlikely to succeed, given the superior numbers and weaponry of the cult forces. The Green County Militia, despite their good physical health and regular practice at a local gun range, lack formal military training and are equipped with only semi-automatic rifles and civilian camouflage gear. With no clear intelligence on the layout of the compound or the exact location of Sheriff Bunchraker, the risk of personnel loss and material damage is high. PROBABILITY OF OPERATION SUCCESS: 40% The operation has a relatively low chance of success due to the imbalance in forces and lack of intelligence on the cult compound. The Green County Militia's inexperience with formal military training and their limited equipment may result in unnecessary losses. EXPECTED NUMBER OF CIVILIAN CASUALTIES: MEDIUM There is a moderate risk of civilian casualties due to the cult's possession of fully-automatic rifles and rocket-propelled grenade launchers. The compound's fortified nature and lack of clear intelligence on its layout may lead to accidental harm to civilians during the rescue operation. The estimated range of expected civilian casualties is between 5-15 individuals. FORCE MORALE: HIGH The Green County Militia, led by Kevin Darwood with a good personal relationship with Sheriff Bunchraker, are highly motivated to complete the operation successfully. However, their lack of formal military training and limited equipment may affect their ability to maintain morale during the rescue mission. SPECIAL ADVICE TO COMMISSIONER (optional): Commissioner Bradley Oaks should consider providing additional resources to support the Green County Militia, such as trained military personnel or specialized equipment, to increase the likelihood of a successful operation and minimize civilian casualties. Furthermore, intelligence gathering on the cult compound and its forces should be prioritized to gain a strategic advantage before initiating the rescue mission.

#long post #ai_log

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i-am-undone-without-you · 2 years ago

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Spotify wrapped

7 and 77

7. Heaven, Iowa by Fall Out Boy

77. Hunter's Moon by Ghost

.....heaven, iowa should not be that high up--

#it's my song for ace WHY IS IT SO HIGH #I'VE HAD ACE SINCE SEPTEMBER

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sarahhenao · 1 year ago

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The Axe Murder House

The Villisca Axe Murder House in Villisca, Iowa is a well-known tourist attraction for ghost hunters and horror lovers alike. The site of a gruesome unsolved 1912 murder, in which six children and two adults had their skulls completely crushed by the axe of an unknown perpetrator, was purchased in 1994, restored to its 1912 condition, and converted into a tourist destination. It costs $428 a night to stay at the old haunted home, where visitors always report strange paranormal experiences, such as visions of a man with an axe roaming the halls or the faint screams of children.

But in November of 2014, the haunting took a darker turn. Robert Steven Laursen Jr., 37, of Rhinelander, Wisconsin was on a regular recreational paranormal visit with friends when true horror struck. Per VICE:

His companions found him stabbed in the chest—an apparently self-inflicted wound—called 9-1-1, and Laursen was brought to a nearby hospital before being helicoptered to Creighton University Medical Center in Omaha.

The Montgomery County Sheriff’s Office said Laursen suffered the self-inflicted injury at about 12:45 a.m., which is around the same time the 1912 axe murders in the house began.

The Axe Murder House

The Montgomery County Sheriff’s Office said Laursen suffered the self-inflicted injury at about 12:45 a.m., which is around the same time the 1912 axe murders in the house began.

#ghosts #supernatural #paranormal #scary house #scaryhouse #scary places #scaryplaces #paranormal activity

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edwardoutlaw · 5 months ago

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“Convicted Liars” CNN, Alex Marquardt, and Jake Tapper

Springfield Bomb Threat Hoax

Trump Called for Liz Cheney to Be Executed Hoax

Violent Crime Down Under Biden/Harris Hoax

Arlington Cemetery Hoax

Kamala Was Never America’s Border Czar Hoax

Russia Collusion Hoax

Hands Up, Don’t Shoot Hoax

Jussie Smollett Hoax

Covington KKKids Hoax

Very Fine People Hoax

Seven-Hour Gap Hoax

Russian Bounties Hoax

Trump Trashes Troops Hoax

Policemen Killed at Mostly Peaceful January 6 Protest Hoax

Rittenhouse Hoax

Eating While Black Hoax

Border Agents Whipping Illegals Hoax

NASCAR Noose Hoax

Georgia Jim Crow 2.0 Hoax

Trump Assaulted Secret Service Agents and Grabbed Steering Wheel of Beast Hoax

MAGA Assaulted Paul Pelosi Hoax

COVID Lab Leak Theory Is Racist Hoax

Hunter Biden’s Laptop Is Russian Disinformation Hoax

Joe Biden Will Never Ban Gas Stoves Hoax

COVID Deaths are Overcounted Is a Conspiracy Theory Hoax

Mass Graves of Native Children in Canada Hoax

Trump Killed Japanese Koi Fish Hoax

Trump Told People to Drink Bleach Hoax

Hamas Hospital Hoax

If Reelected, Trump Will Execute People Hoax

The 900,000 Kids Hospitalized with Coronavirus Hoax

Dozens of Environmental Hoaxes

The Alfa Bank Hoax

Libs of TikTok Murdered Non-Binary Teen Hoax

Aaron Rodgers Sandy Hook-Truther Hoax

‘Bloodbath’ Hoax

Biden ‘Sharp-as-a-Tack’ Hoax

Iowa Poll Hoax

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poundsofnothing · 2 years ago

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Many people confuse anal hauntings for gas, so many here at the society of gastrointestinal ghost hunters of eastern iowa want you to know that this is a much bigger problem than the self reporting would lead you to believe.

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batslime · 3 years ago

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e Slipknot concert shenanigans

#i got a ghost shirt recently w the hunters moon art i havent been able to wear yet so i thot abt wearing it but then i thot.#no im gonna get beat up if i wear a ghost shirt to a slipknot concert.#but then i saw not only ghost shirts but some mfs were wearing like jujutsu kaisen shirts as well. bold #it was rly fun tho! corey talked abt having fun being back in the quad cities #it was kinda sweet you never hear ppl talking nicely abt this place lmaooo #like they were very CLOSE to iowa. but they still would not enter iowa for this tour cjdjcd even ppl FROM here dont want to be here

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terrestrialnoob · 2 years ago

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“I bet we can get a reservation at The Orchard,” Kim suggested.

Ron nodded, “Yeah, I guess it has been a while since we went to, like, a really nice place.”

“So, as long as nothing world ending happens between now and Saturday-”

Just as Km said it, her locker beeped and as she opened it, the computer she kept in it flickered on showing Wade in his usual place, looking slightly nervous. Wade being nervous was never a good thing.

“Hey Wade, what’s the sitch?”

“Hey Kim,” Wade said, but his voice wavered a little as he asked, “I was wondering if I could get a favor from Ron.”

“Not me?” Kim asked immediately.

“Ron’s more the style I’m looking for.”

“Ron’s style?” Kim asked incredulously, but Ron put his hand on her shoulder.

“I get it Wade, whatever you need, I got it covered.”

“Thanks.” Wade’s image on Kim’s locker computer switched to a photo from Wade’s last family reunion, all the kids of five aunts and uncles and six more older cousins in one shot. A red circle blinked into existence at the edge of the photo, around Wade and a slightly older kid standing next to him with his hand on Wade’s shoulder wearing a red beret and thick black rimmed glasses. “This is my cousin, Tucker. He and his friends are coming to visit Middleton this weekend for the science convention.”

“Wait, cousin Tucker? The Cousin Tucker?” Ron nearly shoving Kim out of the way of the locker to get a better look at the photo.

Kim rolled her eyes then asked, “Is he a big deal?”

“Uh, cheah,” Ron said, letting Kim back in front of the locker, “He helped Wade design your battle suit!”

“That’s the one,” Wade said, “He gave me the idea to make it, and he has a lot of experience working on high-powered combat jumpsuits. Really, he did most of the designing part of it; I just did all the hard work of actually making it.”

“Really? High-powered combat jumpsuits is something someone can have a lot of experience with?” Kim asked, but it did make sense. She had been a bit surprised that Wade had come up with the battle suit; he’s a gadget guy, not a suit guy. And there wasn't a shortage of teenage geniuses in the world.

“Yeah, he's awesome, and his friends?” Wade said, and an image came onto the screen of a teenage girl with dyed black hair. She wore a black tank top with a purple bat in the center of the chest and unattached long bell sleeves along with a black and green plaid miniskirt over torn black tights. Her knee high boots had thick blocky souls that made her at least four inches taller and were covered in straps and metal. In the photo, she was leaning on a wall pointing at a horror movie poster next to her. “This is Sam Manson, she was the top, the number one, Doomed player in the world, and right now, she’s top ten in the sequel, Eternal Torment, and money’s on her to break top five within the month.”

“Eternal Torment!” Ron shouted, getting strange looks from others in the hall, but he didn’t care, “The online video game that’s so hard 50% of all players rage quite before finishing it?”

“That’s a myth, it’s closer to 32% and lowering with the new patches, but yes, that’s the one.”

“Woah,” Ron basically had heart eyes as he stared at the goth gamer girl, and Kim wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t.

“What about this guy?” Kim asked, other photos of Wade’s cousin and his friends had come up, usually with three people, Tucker, Sam, and the one Kim was pointing at now. He had naturally black hair and bright blue eyes, and while Tucker's and Sam’s outfits changed in every image, he seemed to wear the same torn jeans, NASA t-shirt, and red hoodie in everything he was in. Though, there were a few of him that had a kind of grainy distortion over them, kind of made him look like he had pointed ears, or shark teeth, or glowing eyes.

“That’s Danny Fenton, and he’s cool but kinda… strange,” Wade pulled up some newspaper articles where Dr.’s Fenton cause havoc in a small town in Iowa, professional ghost hunters whose inventions go awry and destroy buildings; and Danny himself seemed to have a public feud with the Mayor of his town and there was a magazine article about how he discovered that the Amity Park Zoo’s purple-back gorilla was female. “Yeah, he’s a bit all over the place and hard to get a read on. But, he does like space and rocket science. And, Tucker said that Danny's family is the one that makes a lot of high-powered combat jumpsuits. Apparently, Dr.'s Fenton only wear high-powered combat jumpsuits.”

Ron nodded along, then asked, “This is all fascinating Wade, but why are you telling us all this?”

“Well,” Wade rubbed his neck nervously, “When Tucker said he was visiting and going to the convention, I kinda said that I was also planning on going with my friends… My IRL friends. I wanted him to think I was cool, and he knows I have a hard time making offline friends, but I didn’t want him to think I was a loser. So…”

“So you need a living breathing friend to go with! Sure thing, buddy. I’m free- oh, no, wait,” Ron pointed between him and Kim, “we were just talking about going on a nice date this weekend.”

Kim waved her hand dismissively, “It’s fine, we can stop somewhere for dinner after the convention.”

“We?”

Kim nodded and looked at Wade in her locker, “My dad’s a rocket scientist, I bet at least Danny will think I’m cool, and I bet Sam will like having another girl there to talk to.”

“She does tend to get along with everyone,” Ron said, “Except for Bonnie… and Drakken, but they’re both supervillains, so I don’t think that’s a point against her.”

Wade smiled, “Thanks Kim. I’ll send you guys info on the convention and where to meet.”

“Ten-four, Wade, we’ll see you there.” Kim said and closed her locker as Wade logged off.

“You really think this’ll be fun?” Ron asked, “Or are you just being nice for Wade?”

“No, I like hanging out with Wade, and you know,” Kim shrugged awkwardly, “What are the chances of there being a mad scientist bent on world domination at the convention?”

“With our luck? 100%” Ron said, with all seriousness before breaking into chuckles. “Now, school’s out and mission’s not till the weekend, that means it’s Bueno Nacho time!”

#danny phantom #kim possible #fanfic #crossover #dp x kp crossover #this is it #this is all I got #I got nothing else for the crossover #please take this and run where ever you want to with it

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haztobegood · 3 years ago

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UNITED STATES OF FANFICTION - PART 1

I started planning this fic rec a few weeks ago after some inspiration from @allwaswell16. It started out as something fun I could post for Independence Day, but it’s hard to be excited when the very freedoms we’re meant to celebrate are being taken away. So instead of a Fourth of July themed fic rec, here is a collection of 51 fics from 51 places in case you need an escape this long weekend.

📍 Alabama - (Something's Been) Hiding In My Heart by @lululawrence Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson/Patrick Dempsey, 26k NR Sweet Home Alabama AU, Exes to Lovers, Implied Mpreg

📍 Alaska - Outlasts by cutedaffodil Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, 12k, M Survival, Dogsledding

📍 Arizona - No Hold to Hold Onto by @kingsofeverything Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 48k, E Historical AU, Cowboys, Rodeo Competition

📍 Arkansas - On This Sinking Night by Luz Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, 4k, M Supernatural Elements, Ghost Hunters

📍 California - Climbing The Swells by @cyantific Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 6k, E Surfers, Strangers to Lovers

📍 Colorado - Get Lost and Found by crimsontheory @ireallysawanangel Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 9k, T Hiking, Mountains, Meet Cute

📍 Connecticut - Make The Yuletide Gay by flowercrownfemme @fairytalefem Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Shawn Mendes, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, 10k, T Chirstmas in Connecticut AU, Christmas Tree Farm, Girl Direction

📍 Delaware - I dissolve and break and then away I crawl by lumineres Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 10k, M Little Red Riding Hood AU, Fluff and Angst

📍 Florida - The Daddiest Place on Earth by lovelarry10 @chloehl10 Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 24k, E Disney World, Social Media AU, Strangers to Lovers

📍 Georgia - An Invincible Summer by Brooklyn_Babylon @twopoppies Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 45k, E Historical AU, 1940s, Watermelon Farming

📍 Hawaii - There Is No Place I'd Rather Be by orphan_account Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson, 24k, T Lilo and Stitch AU, Aliens

📍 Idaho - A Road To Something Better by @taggiecb Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 25k, E Writer Louis, Friends to Lovers

📍 Illinois - From the Start by @allwaswell16 Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 32k, E Fake/Pretend Relationship, Marriage Proposal

📍 Indiana - to know I'm gonna be alright by aiienharry @leedsau Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, 61k, E Small Town AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers

📍 Iowa - The Grundy County Auction Incident by @haztobegood Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 4k, T Farmer AU, Sugar Baby Harry, Livestock Auctions

📍 Kansas - As Long As You Bring Your Dog by heerickson Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 8k, NR College AU, Meet Cute

📍 Kentucky - fallin' and laughin' at the drinks we spilled by enbyharry @non-binharry Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, 14k, E Strangers to Lovers, Nonbinary/Genderfluid Harry Styles, Louis lives in a van

🗺️ PART 2 | PART 3

#one direction fanfiction #1d-library #1drarepairs #tracksintheam #haztobegood recs fic #trackinghome

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ofthehighestower · 3 years ago

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hi I wrote something this morning for everyone’s favorite birthday boy... 😇🎊😇🎊 this is just a little canon-divergent moment that takes place ~season 12 but it doesn’t really matter LOL. thanks to @thenightwemetnatural for hosting!! 🐝

💫 💫

Cas hears shuffling paper as he wakes up, he didn’t notice when he’d dozed off on the camping cot set up in front of the RV, still warm in the shade. The pullout mattress inside was getting harder to sleep on as they reached two months of being tucked away into the forest. Through his bleary eyes, he could see Dean quickly flipping the notebook over as he sat up in the picnic bench across from him. He was really bad at pretending to do something else. “Afternoon! You hungry?” Dean says with an edge of forced energy. He looks like he was deep in thought, eyes scanning Cas up and down. “Yes…” His stomach kicks into gear as he says it. Cas sits up and feels the sweater that was draped over him fall off his shoulders, his book laying open on his sternum.

They’d taken the day off from their latest job: fixing up an old hunter’s cabin in Iowa that was damaged in a storm. It was little more than a shack in the woods, but they were going to make it the safest place in the state by the time they were done. He enjoyed it more than he expected. Light duty, despite the fact that it was hard labor, urged on by Sam in the most diplomatic way he could. "Were you drawing?" Cas asks, maneuvering the green knit sweater around his stiff shoulders, zipping it up halfway to guard against the spring wind. He could hear tree branches tapping against the wall of the RV. "You usually write with a pen, and you're using a pencil." "Don't worry about it. You know, we've got that chili in the freezer--" Dean stands up at the same time as Cas, who reaches over towards the notebook and flips it over. It was him. The drawing barely took up a quarter of the page, but this instant recognition was something Cas never had with the few photos of himself as he appeared to them. Usually he could only see Jimmy peering into the lens like a ghost until he remembered all at once with a pang of desperate guilt. Most days he still felt like this form was just a proxy. But the more ritual care this body clambered to require that only he could provide, and how much nearer he could feel it cradling him every day in return, was starting to set in on Cas. And on this blue lined page, he was looking at his hair that was sketched in with dark, broad lines, a few strands curling in front of closed eyes. Looking closer he sees eraser marks around his mouth and eyebrows, suddenly the pressure of Dean's discerning gaze feels like the brush of his fingertips. The face he was looking down at was so, so precious to Dean in these careful lines, and it was him. He wonders how it felt when Dean laid that sweater over his body, when Dean decided he wanted to render the collar tucked up near his jaw. All of the drowsy haze is lit up out of his body and an incandescent blush takes over. "This makes me look like a creep, I wasn't watching you nap for that long, ok?" Dean mumbles, turning away from Cas. "Shut up. I'm keeping it." He starts to tear out the page as carefully as if it were an invaluable, earth saving spell. He traces along the edges of the portrait for a long moment. "Is this... really how you see me?" Cas turns to Dean and can see that his hands are clenched tightly at his sides. His expression eases from one shade of confusion to another. The long days of work in the sun have made Dean's freckles stand out more, and Cas is hyper-aware of wanting to touch every single one, as if he were painting them in. "I guess, yeah." Dean says with an embarrassed, defensive smile. He idly rubs his knuckles across the short hair on his temple. "Of course." "Dean..." A deep sigh escapes from Cas and he leans in to press his face against his shoulder, into the soft grey flannel Cas had washed and dried on the line days prior. His arms wrap around his middle and he can hear Dean inhale shakily, covering it up with a chuckle. Dean turns closer to Cas, so his cheek rests against his forehead and all the sounds of the forest slip away. They've never hugged like this, in silence, long enough for Dean to hesitate twice over to thread his fingers through Cas's dark hair. Cas wants to say something about being seen and taken in, about how he wants time to slow down for them, but he just holds on tighter instead. "I want to keep doing this, with the safe houses." He whispers it into Dean's neck, like he's telling a secret. "We could play for keeps on one next time. If you want." Dean says in a single breath, with the same hushed urgency. "I don't know!" He laughs, realizing what he's just said, and gently squeezes Cas before leaning back. "Let's have lunch first." Cas laughs and nods, bubbling over completely. He turns around to fold the drawing up and put it in his pocket. He takes one last look at his sketched face, the only one his family may ever know, disbelieving and bittersweet. When he looks up towards the RV he can see their two reflections in the tinted windows. Dean spots him looking and with a goofy smile, reaches over to press a wet kiss to his cheek, one arm still around his shoulders, the other hand tracing along Cas's jaw. Dean points to the window and says, "See? How could I resist." Cas sees himself roll his eyes, before closing them to lean into the touch. The wind picks up, and they don't eat lunch for another hour.

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

thanks for reading if you got this far hahaha i feel like a rando even participating but i want to share how happy this fandom has made me!

i’ve never posted writing in the spn fandom before & i had something different planned based in my own personal spn canon slow cooker, but it got crazy and didn’t suit the mood. so this is what i came up with :^)

ok thanks happy birthday cas we love you!!

#casbeedayparty #cas birthday #destiel fic #i had more sensitive things to say about dean drawing but this isn't about him #long post

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calaofnoldor · 5 years ago

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Fake It ‘Til You Make It

Characters: Sam x Reader (gender neutral), Dean

Words: 3,295

Summary: Dean and his lady of the night are being obnoxiously loud, so you and Sam devise a plan of retaliation.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, wee bit o’ language, mutual pining and other fun tropes

A/N: thank you for all the love and support on “Dean, Don’t” (there will be a sequel due to positive feedback!) tbh, i’m not sure how i feel about this one, but every single like, comment, and reblog is always super-duper appreciated!

MASTERLIST

Another hunt for the books, another bar tab for your fake credit card. Another leggy blonde for Dean, and another evening spent harboring your secret yet ever-growing crush for Sam Winchester. This was becoming a pattern lately.

You'd decided to join the brothers on their last several hunts after bumping into (and nearly decapitating) Dean in a vamp-infested warehouse in Colorado. That night, you bought him a beer to recompense, but he was rather swiftly distracted by the busty barmaid, and you ended up talking to Sam all night instead.

There was an instant chemistry between the two of you, what with your shared passion for monster lore and college dropout histories, conversation always flowed easily and often without end.

Tonight had been no different, from the moment you walked into the rundown bar in Iowa, and immediately placed a bet on the fate of Dean's evening entertainment.

"Twenty bucks says he goes home with that blonde in the red dress over there," you jerked your head towards the woman in question.

"Oh, you're so on L/N. She's way too classy for him. My money's on that short one over there with the space buns."

"Deal," you shook on it, while struggling to ignore the spark his touch ignited.

Three beers in and you had almost completely forgot about your bet, until Dean swaggered over with one arm draped casually around the shoulders of his blonde conquest. "We're gonna head out for the night, see you guys later."

You waited until the front door closed behind them before turning to Sam with a triumphant grin. "Pay up, Winchester," you held your hand out expectantly.

“How are you so good at that? I’m the one who’s been watching him my whole life.” He shook his head with amiable amusement while digging out a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket.

You shrugged a little, “You learn to read people fairly quickly on the job.”

“Y/N, we have the same job.”

You pretended to ponder this fact for a moment, your brows furrowing, “I guess I’m just a better hunter then?” It was an obvious jest, and you both knew it, as evidenced by the wide, matching smiles that broke out across both your faces.

God, how you loved his smile, especially the genuine ones that brought out his dimples and lit up his eyes, but even more so, you adored any smile behind which you were the cause. Those you stored amidst your most cherished memories and replayed in your mind a hundred times over on nights when the insomnia hit… Oh no, had you been staring for too long?

Abruptly, you turned towards the bartender, waving the newly acquired bill in your hand, and proceeded to order the next round.

Fortunately, the night carried on with its jovial tone, and you were almost able to disregard the desire to touch Sam’s veiny forearms when he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid, or the need to run your hands through his luscious locks whenever a wayward strand fell before his glimmering eyes.

“I guess we should head out soon. Dean’s probably gonna want to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Right, yeah.” At this point, you were feeling a little woozy from the alcohol, and Sam’s hands were suddenly grasping your biceps as you rose unsteadily from the barstool.

“I’m OK,” you laughed it off, but instantly missed the warmth of his palms that seemed to seep through your clothes and set your skin alight. Sam simply smiled at you, yet something in his eyes was so resplendent you felt goosebumps replace the fire along your arms. You must have been staring again, for Sam looked away somewhat embarrassedly and asked if there was something on his face.

Ugh, why did he have such an effect on you? You’d been around plenty of male hunters in the past, some nearly just as attractive, but you’d always managed to keep your wits about you. Indeed, your unrelenting rationality was usually a subject of pride for you, yet here you were, a blubbering mess after a mere touch on the arm and that stupid smile.

Looking down, you grumbled a quick apology and a senseless explanation that involved blaming the booze before you took off.

Sam followed after you, but not before double checking that you had grabbed all your belongings. There was a strong and instinctive urge to look after and protect that stirred within him whenever you were around, and he couldn’t neglect it if he tried.

It wasn’t that you were weak and needed someone to look out for you. Sam knew you’d been more or less hunting on your own for years now, and could certainly roll with the best of them, himself and Dean included. No, Sam knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, yet he still could not brush the nagging need to keep you safe and by his side whenever possible.

At times, he felt as if a spell had overcome him and he was no longer in control of his senses when it came to you. It was annoying, really.

Tonight, for instance, Sam could have sworn he spent the better part of your time at the bar glaring down any man who came within three feet of you, foolishly daring to try their chances with you. He was sure you’d notice his strange behavior at some point, but you simply talked the night away with him, smiling that stupendous smile, the one that made him lose his breath.

Everything about you enchanted him, and Sam often found himself wishing he could just dive in and kiss you, hold you in his arms and never let you go. He was sure you could read it all in his eyes by now.

To his disappointment, however, you never gave any indication of reciprocation, always treating him in a strictly platonic manner, whether intentionally or out of ignorance, Sam didn’t know. But he never dared make a move, and he convinced himself that he felt fortunate enough to have you as a friend.

The walk back to the motel wasn’t long, although Sam took deliberately small steps to prolong your time together. When you reached the brothers’ room, your eyes fell upon a grey sock dangling unceremoniously from the doorknob. So Dean had taken Blondie to his motel room.

“How’s that for classy?” you looked up at Sam with a small smirk.

He let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head while staring at the sock. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he spent a night in the Impala.

“Hey, why don’t you just come over to my room,” you suggested as you motioned next door, “We can chill in there for a bit, wait it out?”

Sam’s eyes shot up to your face. All he had to hear was “come over to my room,” and his brain immediately began imagining all the potential scenarios those five little words could lead to… if you felt even an inkling of what he felt for you. He gulped and tried to reel his thoughts in, meeting your gaze with a dreamy look.

“Um… yeah, OK, sure, yeah. That sounds good. I mean, you sure you don’t mind?” he stumbled out.

You laughed that brilliant laugh, “No, I should probably sober up a little before I sleep anyway.”

Sam nodded, afraid of what words might escape if he opened his mouth again, and the two of you made your way towards the adjacent motel room. He watched as your delicate hands worked the key and instantly took note of the angry red scrapes and cuts along your palm when you turned your wrist to unlock the door.

Brows knit with concern, Sam silently berated himself for failing to take better care of you. He remembered you took a nasty fall when the ghost had thrown you aside to get to the brothers as they burned the necklace that tethered it to this realm. You must have landed on the concrete and braced yourself with your hands.

As you both stepped into the dim and modest room, Sam was about to ask for your first aid kit when you suddenly brought your arms overhead and stretched out your lithe body with a soft, satisfactory grunt. When the hem of your shirt rode up, Sam had to look away to stop himself from staring at the anti-possession tattoo that peeked out above your hip bone. Just that sliver of skin was so alluring to him; he really was in deep.

When you lowered your arms back down, you sent him a small, apologetic smile, “Sorry, it just always feels good to do that after a hunt and a night out in town.”

Sam nodded again, still finding it difficult to come up with the right words, but then he remembered his previous mission. “Give me your hand.”

“W-what?” you stuttered, dumbfoundedly. It was your turn to wonder if you’d heard right.

“Your hand, let me see it.” He repeated, and this time he simply caught your wrist and took your hand gingerly in his, turning it such that your palm faced up, so he could examine the extent of the damage.

“Oh,” you breathed out, slightly relieved, “It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.” You tried to pull your hand out of his intoxicating grip, but he held on quite firmly.

“Y/N, we need to clean these and bandage them so they don’t get infected.”

He had pulled you rather close to him, to the point where you could feel his body heat emanating towards you, and you hated to admit the proximity was really messing with your mind. All you could think about was the deliciously muscled torso that surely lay beneath those layers of cotton, and what it would feel like to run your hands across it.

Sam took advantage of your lack of response and led you to sit on the edge of the bed. As he went to look for the first aid kit, you couldn’t help but admire his backside, especially when he bent over to rummage through your duffle bag in the corner.

When he returned to your side, you quickly closed your jaw and reached over for the cleaning supplies, but he held it out of your reach and grasped your hand again instead. Your eyes met for moment, and almost as if on cue, a loud, lascivious moan came through the room’s thin walls.

Sam felt his cheeks heat up, and hastily averted his gaze. He mentally cursed his brother’s wanton ways, but when he heard your giggling, all was forgiven.

“I guess someone’s having a good time.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this’ll be quite as enjoyable for you.” He motioned to the alcohol in his other hand with a sheepish smile, “I probably don’t need to tell you this is gonna hurt.”

You shook your head slightly, but still winced a little when he poured the disinfectant over your wounds.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sam sounded truly remorseful and you chuckled.

“What are you sorry for? It’s not like you threw me to the ground, and besides, you’re helping me now,” you murmured softly.

“Well you did get in it’s way to protect m- us. And I don’t like to see you in pain.”

He meant ‘people’ of course, you told yourself in vain. He’s obviously a nice guy and he doesn’t like to see anyone in pain. That’s why he’s a hunter. Duh.

You were trying, unsuccessfully, to slow your heart rate when another emphatic cry came from the direction of the older Winchester’s room.

“Oh! Oh my god!” The high pitch had your eyes widening.

“You can call me Dean, sweetheart,” came the muted reply.

You and Sam both rolled your eyes before he continued to treat and bandage your hand. His fingers, though rough, were improbably gentle against your skin and frequently sent shivers down your spine. It was all making you quite jittery and you really weren’t sure you could take it much longer. To exacerbate things, Dean and Blondie managed to vocalize their passions on at least five more occasions by the time Sam completed his work.

It was becoming rather aggravating, particularly because you found it extraordinarily hard to look Sam in the eyes or maintain a normal conversation with him when you were constantly getting bombarded by the sounds of his brother and his lady of the night copulating next door.

You stood as soon as Sam let go of your hand, needing to release some energy. “You know what, we can’t just let them dick us around like this all night!”

Sam laughed at your word choice and looked up at you, a fond curiosity shining through his eyes, “OK, but what could we possibly do to get back at them?”

You paused your pacing for a minute, racking your brain for an answer to their impudence. Sam watched as a gleam appeared in your eyes and a mischievous smile took over your features.

“I’ve got it! My friend and I used to do this back in college when our roommate brought dates home and they got a little too carried away. It’s basically a game of chicken.”

Sam raised his brow in question so you continued, “If they’re gonna be obnoxiously loud with their fornication rituals, then we can go at it too.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s simple. An eye for an eye. We don’t even have to make it sound real, just as long as it’s equally loud and disturbing.”

“Y/N, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? That we pretend to have s-sex?” Sam was feeling considerably dubious about your plan, as he couldn’t imagine himself holding back if you were to act in any way sensual around him, even if it was all make believe.

Just then, another resounding squeal of pleasure travelled to your ears and before Sam could stop you, you took the opportunity to show him what you were talking about.

“Oh! Yes!” You exclaimed salaciously in return.

Sam’s eyes grew as he stared at you in disbelief. Your own eyes were closed and your face contorted to an expression of intense pleasure that Sam had only dreamed about. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his place on the bed, thankful that the first aid kit still sat on his lap as he adjusted his trousers a bit.

“Y/N, I don’t-“

“Come on, Sammy, join me! Trust me, it works every time.”

Sam didn’t have time to contemplate how much he loved the sound of his childhood nickname rolling off your tongue because a second howl came from the next room, this time lower in pitch, though you were there to answer regardless. “Oh my gosh, yes! Right there!”

If Sam thought the effect that you had on him normally was overwhelming, he was undoubtedly unprepared for the way his body responded to you making ludicrously pornographic sounds not two feet from him. Everything seemed to disappear around him until only you remained and held the entirety of his focus.

“Ooh, faster! Harder, Sam!”

Fuck. You said his name. And you said it with lust in your voice. It was as if all his fantasies had come to life before him in some twisted and desperately maddening form. Something in him snapped, and before he knew it, he was standing across from you, staring fixedly at your face, as you shouted in unison.

“Ungh! Oh god, Y/N!”

“Yes, that’s it! Don’t stop!”

Sam’s deep voice compelled your eyes to snap open. He was already looking straight at you, and you could almost taste the tension.

“Oh, baby! You feel so good!”

You didn’t join him this time. You couldn’t. He had you in a trance, his lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, the way his chest moved towards you when he inhaled, the sheer size of him. It was all too much. So you simply stared, feeling your breath come and go faster than you were used to.

There was a split second, or perhaps it was a lifetime, in which the two of you stood still, eyes locked in a fiery exchange, but in the next instant you both lunged forward, lips and teeth and noses and bodies clashing in a passionate, long-awaited display of carnal thirst.

But the kiss ended far too soon for your liking. “Wait, wait, Y/N. I really want this, but you’re probably still drunk, and I don’t wanna take advantage of you or the situation.” Sam panted hurriedly.

You smiled at his chivalry yet shook your head in disagreement, “Sam, don’t be an idjit. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sober, and I definitely haven’t wanted anything more than this, right now.” Your voice was just as breathy.

Sam moved his hands back to your face and that glorious, dimpled smile returned, “Baby, are you sure?”

The nickname brought a flutter to your heart, “Yes, I swear to heaven and hell, if you don’t kiss me again, Sam Winchester-“

His lips cut yours off in another bruising yet completely satisfying declaration of need. Your back arched and he brought one hand down to pull your waist flush against his solid form.

“Mmph,” you moaned against his mouth.

God, Sam couldn’t handle the sounds you made. A man could only hold back for so long. His enormous moose hands frantically grabbed at your ass, hoisting you into his arms in no time and carrying you back towards the bed.

Let’s just say Dean and Blondie truly had no idea of the spectacular and thunderous show they were in for.

The next morning, Sam awoke with a warm weight on his chest. He looked down to find your slumbering form nuzzled against him, head tucked beneath his chin and legs messily intertwined. A fond smile crossed his face as he subconsciously tightened his hold on you and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. The feeling of elation didn't fade as he closed his eyes to rest again, but it did recede ever so slightly to the backburner when the door clicked and his brother came barging in. “Alright, rise and shine, lovebirds! That was quite the show you guys put on last night, hope it didn't-“ “Shhh! Dean, shut up!” Sam shushed his brother with a stage whisper whilst scrambling to cover your bare back with the disheveled sheets surrounding you, but Dean had already glimpsed the evidence. “Sammy, you sly dog!” He wiggled his brows, grinning proudly at his little brother, "And here I thought I was the only one who got laid last night." “Dean, get out.” "Yeah ok, I'm gone," he raised his hands in assent. "But tell your sweetheart we're leaving in twenty," Dean added before he finally let the door shut behind him.

His sweetheart. Sam sure liked the sound of that. The corners of his lips struggled not to raise with glee. "Mm, was that Dean?" you mumbled against Sam's chest, fingers tracing the ink of his anti-possession tattoo with half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, just came to tell us we're leaving in twenty." He gave your hip a gentle squeeze "He knows, doesn’t he?" You rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Sam chuckled at your adorably sleepy state. “Yeah, sorry…” he trailed off, unsure of how you would respond to the news.

“Well, don’t be. That just means I get to do this whenever I want.” You lifted your head to kiss him hard, and his hands instinctively cradled your face, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap and completely awake.

“You know, I think we still have about 15 minutes.”

“I like the way you think, Winchester.”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading! i’d now like to apologize for this obligatory self plug, but there’s new stuff available at lexicolor.redbubble.com, just fyi :)

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x male!reader #sam winchester x female!reader #mutual pining #sammy's got a crush #fake it #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot #my writing #text #fanart #redbubble #lexicolor

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fictionalabyss · 4 years ago

Text

Tell me it’s just her heat.

Pairing : Alpha!William Harvelle x Ellen Harvelle, Alpha!William Harvelle x Omega!Winchester!Reader, Alpha!John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Joanna Beth Harvelle (mentioned)

Word count : 3,190

Written for : @spnabobingo

Square : Older Alpha/Younger Omega

Warnings : Angst ahead! Age gap, Cheating/having an affair, death/murder, blood, heat, confinement, lies, depression. Canon divergence : Changed when Bill died, Jo is about 14ish? instead of the 1-9 canon storyline that makes no sense as it contradicts itself.

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

“You’re packing.”

Bill turned to see Ellen, the dish towel over her shoulder let him know she’d been downstairs at the bar moments before. “Got a job.” he answered, turning back to his bag as he stuffed in a few shirts.

“Hm.” Ellen hummed, watching his back as he packed up. “Gonna be long?”

“Maybe a few days, week tops. Depends how quick I can find it.” He turned and gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s quick and easy, I promise.”

“Ain’t nothing quick and easy in this life. You best come home in one piece, you got a daughter who’s gonna miss you. No matter how big she gets, Joanna needs her daddy.”

Smiling, Bill moved towards her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m always careful.” Ellen nodded, watching as he grabbed his bags. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Where?” He stopped. “Where, in case I don’t hear from you.”

“Galesburg.”

“Iowa?”

Bill nodded. “I’ll be home in a few days.”

“Willam?” she called when he was half way down the hall. “I love you.”

“Love you too, honey.”

Once in the car, he pulled out his phone and dialed, starting up the engine as it started to ring, and he began to pull out and onto the road. “Hey” came the voice on the other end.

“I’ll be there in Galesburg in about 6 hours.”

“I’ll see you there.”

The line went dead, so Bill tossed the phone aside and pressed harder on the gas.

“Winchester.”

John smiled as he walked in. “Ellen. Where’s the old man?” he was surprised to not find Bill behind the bar.

“Just missed him. Left just a few hours ago. Something about a hunt over in Galesburg Iowa.”

“Galesburg?” John furrowed his brow. “What the fuck is in Galesburg?”

Ellen shrugged. “Said it would be an easy one, home in a few days.” John hummed as he sat down at the bar in front of her and she handed him a beer. “Where you headed?”

“Janesville. Wisconsin.” John answered, bringing the beer to his lips. “Sent Dean up that way, going to meet up.” John watches as Ellen gave him a nod but noticed she was chewing her bottom lip as she wiped down the bar. “You worried about him? If you want, I’ll stop in on my way through, give him hand, get him home to you sooner.”

“No. No, I’m sure he’s fine. Besides, he prefers working on his own, and I don’t want you going out of your way-”

“It’s barely a detour. Besides, I’d do for you and Jo.” John gave her a smile. “Just let me get some grub in me and I’m out.”

“You got it. Today’s special?”

“Seeing as Bill ain’t the one in the kitchen today, yeah, special’s good.” he joked, making Ellen laugh.

It wasn’t hard to find the right place. Hunters had a system for booking motels, and Bill always took the same room number where he could. So all it took was flipping through a phone book quick, and then another quick drive before he was parked outside of room 5. Turning off the engine, he took a deep breath before getting out and getting his bag from the trunk. A few feet more and he was at the door. A quick knock was all it took for the door to swing open, a hand reaching out to grab his jacket and pull him in.

“You smell so good, Bill.” you purred as the door shut and Bill’s back hit the wall. Your nose was against his chest as you took a deep breath. “Need you, need you so fucking bad. Took you too long to get here..”

“Yeah, I can smell that.” he dropped his bag to the floor before putting his hands to your cheeks and making you look up at him. “Surprised I didn’t smell you from outside. You’re burning up.”

“Need you.” you whined, lips parting as you rose up on your toes to try and reach his lips.

“I’m all yours, ‘mega. But we need to be careful.”

“No one’s caught us yet.” you whispered right before his lips claimed yours. He groaned against your lips as you pressed your body closer, hands moving up and under layers to feel his skin.

“Still need to be careful.” he muttered as his lips trailed to your jaw.

“Fuck being careful.” your head went back, eyes shut as you reveled in the pleasure his lips on your skin brought. “I want you to fuck me. I want your knot.” Bill growled at those words, but you kept talking. “I want you to pump me so full, alpha, I want your pups, I-” Bill pulled away, stopping everything. You instantly regretted your words. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, It’s just the heat. I’m sorry. Please, Bill.” you were tugging him closer, lifting his shirt to expose his stomach so you could feel it against you, desperate for him. “Please, don’t stop, I’m sorry.”

“You know I can’t-”

“I know.. I know.” you let your forehead fall to his chest and took a deep breath, breathing him in, needing to calm the raging storm of hormones coursing through you. “It’s just the heat.. I promise. It’s just so fucking strong right now.. I’m still on the pill, I promise, Bill. I just-”

He hooked your chin and tilted your head up to his. “Look at me.” Your eyes slowly opened to meet his, pleading with him to believe you, to forgive you, to fuck you. He stared into them silently for a bit before he leaned in and his lips ghosted over yours. “It’s okay.” he whispered before kissing you again.

“I love you.” you breathed out before he deepened the kiss and started leading you towards the bed.

It doesn’t take long for you to be naked, crawling up the bed on your hands and knees before Bill’s body is over yours, caging you in as his lips move up along your spine. Your slick is leaking down along your inner thighs in anticipation for him. As his lips reach your shoulder blade, one of his hands spreads out over your stomach and you can’t help but whine. You want him to put a pup in you so bad, you’re desperate for it, no matter how bad an idea it is. You want to swell with his seed, want to glow for him and grow for him.

“‘Mega.” he purrs into your sweat soaked skin, he can smell you getting more and more aroused, your skin burning up more under his touch.

“Fuck me.” you breath out. “Please, my Alpha. Fuck me.” you look over your shoulder, and his lips brush the corner of yours as his hand leaves your stomach and he lines himself up. “Fuck me.”

You cry out in pleasure as he pushes home. You’ve never had anyone who felt so damn good inside you, who not only calmed the burning heat, but at the same time seemed to set you aflame all over again. His teeth scraped along your shoulder blade as his hips pulled back and slammed forward again, jolting your whole body.

“Yes! Oh fuck, yes!”

“Gonna knot you.” he promised. “Again and again and again. Until you can’t fucking take it anymore.”

“Fuck, Bill.” you whined, hand shooting over your shoulder to grab at his hair. “Harder.”

Your legs were wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you. It was round 3, or was it round 4? Didn’t matter. All that mattered was the feel of him between your thighs, his hands big and heavy against your skin, and his lips everywhere they could reach.

You could hear someone pulling up outside, the lights filtering through the cracks in the curtains before going off. The only reason it even registered to you at all was because of the way the light danced along Bill’s back as it moved across the room before it stopped right above his ass and went out. Your eyes fluttered shut soon after at the pleasure brought on by his lips moving along your collarbone.

“So close.” you whispered, nails digging into his back and dragging along his sides. His pace picked up, thrusts coming in harder and the headboard began hitting the wall, a cry of delight falling from your lips.

Your eyes snapped open at a hint of a sound. Was that a knock, or just the headboard? You got your answer when the door burst open.

“What the fuck?”

Bill’s head snapped around, all color draining from his face at the man standing in the doorway. Then those dark angry eyes were on you. Panic and fear filled you. “Dad…”

“My daughter?” John took a step further into the room, door slamming shut behind him. Bill didn’t move. “My fucking daughter!?”

“John-”

Before anything else could be said, John was pulling Bill off of you. “Dad!” you sat up, grabbing for the sweat soaked sheets to shield your body. “Dad, wait!”

Bill was slammed against the wall, the impact made the window vibrate and you flinched. “You’re fucking wife is worried about you, and I find you here, fucking my daughter!?”

“Please, dad.” you begged, moving to get out of the bed.

“Don’t fucking move.” he snapped at you, and you instantly froze. That tone paired with the look in his eyes, he wasn’t playing around, he was furious. Then he turned back to his friend, back to someone he’d trusted with his life on hunts, someone who’s family meant enough to him that he checked in on them, even brought Jo gifts from time to time, small little trinkets he found traveling. They were FRIENDS. Then he smelt it. “Tell me it’s just her heat. Tell me that’s all this is, Bill.” Bill didn’t answer. Pissed, John pulled out his gun, cocked it and put it to Bill’s temple.

“DAD!” tears were streaming down your face.

“TELL ME IT’S JUST HER FUCKING HEAT!” Bill just closed his eyes, a tear running down his cheek. That was more than an answer to John. “How long?” Bill swallowed. “HOW FUCKING LONG!?” John pushed the gun harder against his skull.

“Long enough.” Bill whispered.

“Daddy, please.. I love him. Please.”

“That’s my fucking daughter.” John growled.

“I know, I’m-” Bill was cut off by the gun shot.

“No!” you screamed, scrambling off the bed to run to him as his body hit the floor. “No no no no” you dropped to the ground, grabbing at his body, pulling it closer as you cried, not caring about the blood now on your hands and the sheet that covered you. “I loved him..” you cried. “Daddy, I loved him!”

“He has a family.” John snarled at you. “A wife who treats you like her own fucking daughter, and this is what you do?”

“I’m sorry.” you cried, your forehead against Bill’s as you cried. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not even supposed to fucking be here.” he snapped. “I left you with Dean. He fucking helping you cover this shit up?”

“No!” your head shot up and you shook it furiously. “No. Told him I found a quick hunt close by that I could knock out in no time. Called him back the day after I got here and said my heat was hitting, that I was hunkering down to ride it out and I’d meet up as soon as I could. He doesn’t know. No one knew. Please, please don’t be mad at Dean. He didn’t know.”

John’s angry glare stayed on you as he pulled out his phone, flipped it open and dialed. “Dean.” For a second, fear gripped you, fear that his anger would be taken out on Dean as well. You had told the truth, Dean had no idea. “Gonna be late, something came up.” Then he closed it and started for the door.

“Dad-”

“Don’t fucking talk to me. I don’t want to hear it right now.”

You’d been barricaded in the bathroom since. It’s been two days at least, by your guess. You were huddled in the corner wrapped in the blankets that had been tossed in with you, tears streaming steadily down your cheeks once again. You couldn’t get the image out of your head, Bill with a gun to his head, and then his body on the ground and blood pouring from the wound. A fresh sob wracked your shoulders as you ducked your head down to your knees and whined in pain.

You ignored the sound of the door knob jiggling before it was opened. “Eat.” John growled, tossing a container to the floor in front of you.

“Please.” He ignored you, turning to leave again. “Dad, please, it hurts. It hurts so bad. Please.”

He didn’t even look back at you as you begged. “No.” He stepped out and shut the door.

“PLEASE DAD!” you cried louder. “I NEED SOMETHING. ANYTHING PLEASE! I’M IN SO MUCH PAIN! IT HURTS! DAD!” You heard him re-barricading the door. “DAD!” you curled in on yourself again, screaming and begging between sobs before you heard the motel room door slam behind him. “Please…”

John had left the motel earlier that morning after dropping off food. Then he drove here, and hadn’t had the balls to do what he needed to do. What was he suppose to tell them, that he killed the guy for fucking his daughter? As pissed as he’d been at Bill, he couldn’t do that to Ellen and Jo. He couldn’t tell them what a piece of shit their William really was. A girl needed to believe in her dad.

John closed his eyes, took a deep breath, calmed his nerves, and then opened the door of his truck to get out.

Walking into the Roadhouse, Ellen smiled at him. He didn’t smile back and hers faded as she glanced to the door, likely waiting for her husband to come in behind him.

“Where’s-”

“Not here.” He could see it already, the look in her face, in her eyes. No, there was no way he could tell them the truth. Ellen nodded and headed towards the back, casting a quick glance around the bar before she went. John followed.

“Where’s William.” she asked as soon as they were away from everyone else.

“You should sit.”

“No! Where’s my husband!” her voice raised, hanging onto the anger, anything to hide the pain. He tried to shush her, not wanting Jo to over hear and come to the back. “Don’t you shush me, answer my damn question.” she snapped.

“He- The hunt it- it was bigger than he originally thought. Bigger than I thought.”

“Where’s my husband?” the anger gone, pain and heartbreak replaced it because she knew what was coming. There was no more denying it.

“He got hurt bad, Ellen.” John looked apologetic, hell, he felt apologetic. Bill had been a friend and he’d mourn that loss, piece of shit or not. “No way he was making it home.” Ellen dropped into the chair behind the small makeshift desk.

“You were supposed to watch out for him.”

“Ell-”

“You were supposed to have his back.” Her tear filled eyes gave him an accusatory look. “You were supposed to bring him home safe!”

“I-”

“Get out.” She snapped, standing and pushing at him. “Get out and never come back! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Get out!” she screamed.

John nodded, making his way out as Jo rushed past him, giving him a confused look as she hurried past to her mother. “Mom? Mom, what’s wrong?” John just kept moving, doing his best to ignore the sound of crying behind him.

Once John was sitting in his truck again, he pulled out his phone, flipped it open and dialed. “Dean. Need you to go pick up your sister. I uh- I got another case, so I ain’t making it to you.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” John lied. “Just warning you, her heat, it was bad.”

“You saw her?”

“Yeah. Had to barricade her in, away from everyone and me. It was strong.”

“Uh, okay. Yeah, I’ll head down. Where is she?”

“Sis? You in here?” Bootfalls moved through the room before you heard the bathroom door knob jiggle a few times before the door was pushed open. “Jesus..”

“Dean?” you breathed out in relief.

“Yeah.. dad told me to come get you. You okay?” He crouched down, his green eyes meeting yours, searching. You couldn’t lie to him, he’d know, so you just shook your head. “Dad said it was a bad one.”

“Yeah.” you looked down, unable to hold eye contact. If he kept looking at you like that, you’d spill everything and you didn’t know how much he knew.

“Come on, kid, hit the shower. I’ll grab you some clothes to wear. You can wear one of my shirts until you start feeling better.” He gave you a soft smile and ran fingers along your cheek. Big brother Dean, taking care of you like always. Offering solutions and comfort without even knowing all the facts.

“Thanks, Dean.” you mumbled quietly.

“Any time, princess. Now get in there. You smell.” he scrunched up his nose with a teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood. You gave him a half hearted smile in return, one that you didn’t feel in the least but let him believe he’d broken through. With a nod from you, Dean finally stood and started out of the bathroom.

Two hours later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, your bag in the trunk and your nose tucked into the collar of Dean’s shirt, letting the soothing smell of your big brother keep you calm.

“You want to talk about it?” he glanced over, but you shook your head. “Come on, kid, you know you can talk to me. I won’t tell dad.” he promised.

“Nothing happened. Just a bad heat, that’s all.” you lied.

Dean nodded his head, and even though he was looking straight ahead at the road, you could see that he didn’t fully believe you. Luckily, he didn’t push the subject. “Guess you didn’t hear, huh? Being locked away.”

“Hear what?”

“Bill Harvelle.” You held your breath, waiting. “Died on a hunt gone bad, apparently.”

You turned and looked out the window, begging the tears not to fall, not to give away just how bad you were still hurting or that you knew anything about it. “Shame.” you fought to keep your voice from breaking. “He was a nice guy.”

“Yeah. That guy loved you like a second daughter. I’m sorry, kiddo.” Dean gave your thigh a pat. You shut your eyes, images of Bill dead on your floor running through your head again. A sob escaped you, and that’s when you felt Dean pulling you against him. “It's okay, it’s okay. I know you and the Harvelles were close.” You buried your face in your big brother and cried at the pain of losing the man you’d loved. “It’s okay.” Dean soothed.

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