#noditchablepromdate

[fallenangelwings]

"Why would they include detailed instructions if they weren't meant to be followed?"

It didn't stop the angel from watching Bobby's every move, and taking note of what chemicals in what order. Despite the chiding, Bobby was kinder than most at the angel's lack of nuanced humanity, and for that, Castiel was grateful. At the question, he stepped back, and Bobby was able to get a better look at him.

Without the trademark outfit, it was easier to see the Seraph as, well. Just a man. Dean's jeans were too long and bunched at the ankles, the AC/DC shirt hung loose over his shoulders, and his face was lined with exhaustion. For the moment, he looked less like Castiel, angel of the Lord, and more like just another one of Bobby's wayward boys.

"I feel better than I did. I'm certainly cleaner. My Grace is replenishing, but it will take a few days to fully recover... Have there been any signs of angel activity near the house?"

As if on cue, Bobby's cell began to ring. The ID said 'Dean.'

fallenangelwings:

It seemed as if the caked blood would never wash clean. Had he a stronger concept of human pain, he might have realized he was scrubbing his skin raw, and it was an angry shade of pink once he finally pulled the curtain aside.

It’d been almost automatic, a hand had reached for his bloody clothes, but it hesitated. However, Bobby had taken that thought into consideration, and left him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. They must have been Dean’s old clothes, for they were too large for his frame. The grey AC/DC shirt hung loose over his shoulders as he balled up his suit and trench and headed to the basement to wash them.

Cas was met with yet another dilemma, he’d never used a washing machine in his life.

“Machine wash cold, gentle cycle-” he scratched some blood flakes from the label inside his trench, “only use non-chlorine bleach when needed. Bobby?” he called over his shoulder, “do you have non-chlorine bleach?”

Bobby heard the noise from the laundry room, and briefly smiled to himself. If he’d guessed right, Cas didn’t have a damn clue how to work a washing machine, because he’d never needed to.

The slightly helpless note in the call that floated his way confirmed it, and with a quiet chuckle to himself he headed through to see what the problem was.

“You ain’t actually followin’ the instructions, are you?” he said on taking in the situation, rolling his eyes. “Never mind that crap. We’re just after gettin’ the blood out.” Taking the dirty clothes, he stuffed them into the washing machine and grabbed a couple of bottles off the shelf that he always used in this situation. “I just use a cup o’ this an’ some regular detergent,” he explained, making sure the angel could see what he was doing. “Never failed me yet.”

Once the machine was running, he stepped back and looked Castiel over. “You’re lookin’ better,” he commented. “Feelin’ okay, or is there anythin’ else you need?”

[leatherandbourbon-a]

"Ｍｙ ｎａｍｅ ｉｓ Ｄｅａｎ Ｗｉｎｃｈｅｓｔｅｒ．

Ｉ＇ｍ ａｎ Ａｑｕａｒｉｕｓ．

Ｉ ｅｎｊｏｙ ｓｕｎｓｅｔｓ， ｌｏｎｇ ｗａｌｋｓ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ

ｂｅａｃｈ， ａｎｄ ｆｒｉｓｋｙ ｗｏｍｅｎ．

Ａｎｄ Ｉ ｄｉｄ ｎｏｔ ｋｉｌｌ ａｎｙｏｎｅ．"

Iɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ Sᴇʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ Dᴇᴀɴ Wɪɴᴄʜᴇsᴛᴇʀ. Gᴀɴᴋᴇᴅ ʙʏ Mᴀᴅᴅɪᴇ, 26, Sʜᴇ/Hᴇʀ.

Cᴀᴀʀᴅ. Mᴇᴍᴇs. Oᴘᴇɴ. Sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ Cᴀʟʟ. Hᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs. Cʀᴇᴅɪᴛs.

Hᴇᴀᴠɪʟʏ Aғғɪʟɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ Wɪᴛʜ: @stanfordprepped @righteouslysin @theoneswithoutpacks @occxltis @jchnwinchester @ofblackskies @xcruel-gamex @heldheart @sheprotec @snnynatural

Aғғɪʟɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ Wɪᴛʜ: @pastelchosen @hunterandfangs @fidelissimi @loyaltyfallen @goldenephilim @noditchablepromdate @rpsocsandcanonohmy @estrangedaframian

[righteousmandownunder-a]

@noditchablepromdate x

Lowering his own weapon, Dean let out a breath as the last of the demons were killed, the black smoke slamming into the ground and disappearing with a ghastly, distanced scream.

"Ya gettin' a little rusty there, Bobby?" Dean smirked. "Demons don't normally rattle ya like this."

[missourimo]

+ noditchablepromdate

Missouri was done waiting. She had sold her soul years ago in exchange for more time on Earth. After her stroke, it was her only chance at making sure she was around long enough for the Winchester boys to save the world and finally lead the normal lives she always wanted for them. 

She wanted to be there for them, to help them out. She never forgot the day in Lawrence when they finally came home and asked for her help on the case involving their mother. Since then she thought the boys would be around more often, or at least call her every once in a while, but it never happened. And when she heard they died, well... Missouri didn’t believe it. Those Winchesters come from tough blood, they’re strong and reslient. Missouri’s energy readings were never wrong, and she could still feel theirs in the small keepsakes of the objects they had abandoned in her home when they were young. She knew those boys were alive, and like hell she wasn’t going to see them again. 

Her time was coming up, with only a few years left to live she couldn’t sit around any longer. If the boys weren’t going to come to her, she was going to go to the boys. If not to smack them both for never contacting her and giving her so much worry, then for at least making sure they were safe and sound. 

Missouri sat at her kitchen table, flipping through old pages of a journal she kept. Rufus and John had put her onto so many contacts but there was one they both knew that John had trusted the boys with. But lord, it had been so many years and her memory wasn’t what it used to be. ‘What was his name.... Bill? Dennis? No that doesn’t even sound remotely right’ she shook her head. She skimmed the pages and finally, there it was “Bobby” she said to herself, “Bobby... Singer”.

John always said if something happened and she needed to take the boys somewhere Bobby would be the one, and had written his address and number down on an old napkin she stuck between some pages of her journal. “South Dakota” her nose scrunched. She contemplated making the drive or seeing if the number worked. It had been years since she left Kansas, and remembered how Rufus used to change his number religiously. If this Bobby guy was anything like John and Rufus, that number might not even work. 

She let out a small sigh and thought about it a little longer, finally she shook her head and picked up her house phone and began to dial, praying the number would still work. It rang and rang, “please lord, please let this man pick up the phone” she pled to her ceiling. She wasn’t much of the religious type, especially now with all these angels and demons just hanging around Earth posessing people. At this point, it was more of a habit than anything. What would she even say to this man, ‘Bobby Singer, I am Missouri Moseley, and I need to find the Winchester boys’, no, he’d think she was crazy, he might not even know who she is. 

[familyofhunters]

Littles+noditchablepromdate

This wasn’t his first choice, not by a long shot. He had made contact with the hunter called Bobby little over a year ago, right after his wife had been killed. But there was a lead and a really solid one at that on the demon that had made this ‘deal’ with Hanna in the first place. And like hell Mark was just gonna let the son of a bitch get away. But this would take a while, and as he looked into his rear view mirror at the two small children in the back seat. He knew he couldn’t take them with him, and Alice was still to young to properly care for Vincent longer then a few days. He still had to tell her were the short hand should be on a clock to feed her brother. This is what lead him to where he was at now, in front of Bobby’s place and caught between a rock and a hard place. The man got on his damn nerves, but it was his best option at this point. With a sigh Mark told his kids to wait, and got out of his car to make his way onto Bobby’s front porch.

[shieldofgod]

@noditchablepromdate

The couch was better than the floor, but sleeping was still a wretched experience.

Nonetheless, Cas did a lot of it.  More than he intended to.  Chunks of it were nigh on peaceful, thanks to mental exhaustion pushing him deeper than dreams; other parts wretched.  He slept surprisingly still despite nightmares, didn’t do a lot of moving but for the occasional wing-twitch, though he’d woken up a couple of times and bolted upright with a sharp, breathless, “Ah-yey,” gasping until he could get the panic under control.

It was debatable whether it was the madness he took from Sam, or if it was his own dogging him.

The circle was confining for a thing with wings, but it also felt oddly safe in some ways, too; he couldn’t hurt anyone else right now.  And knew Bobby would not hurt him, or let him be hurt.

It was after a few days that they had worked out something of a routine; one awake to keep watch, one asleep.  When they were both awake was some rarer, but finally Castiel reached a point where his borrowed head didn’t try to swim away from consciousness on him and was able to talk.  Or try to.

He sat on the couchback, wings again folded behind him; it had become his perch.  He was glad he didn’t seem to need to eat or drink, though he was growing something of a beard.  He didn’t like how incredibly visceral all his emotions were, bound into this skin, subject to nerve endings and chemical signals, but he was coping about as well as he could with it.  It put his constant anxiety more to the fore than he cared for, but he was scrambling to contain it.

Now, he just waited for Bobby to wake up, wanting to check in with the man and try to not thank him for the millionth time.  Perhaps talk to him; even sleeping a lot, Cas was lonely.

[sheriffmomvoice]

@noditchablepromdate​ sent an ask: "I saw the test in the trash" (I'M SORRY IT WAS IRRESISTIBLE)

“that? oh, uh... ah, yes. that.” sweaty palms, heart aflutter & a ridiculously big lump blocking her throat were only part of why jody felt the insane urge to run. the other reason she was fighting off her own legs was the answer she owed the other. one she’d been nervous about, although knowing he would never hurt her ... would he? she thought she knew how he felt about kids. he’d changed, though, right? 

“there’s something i gotta tell you.” deep breath, fingers folded around his wrist, gently tugging bobby out of the kitchen & towards the living room couch. once he’d taken the hint to sit, she pulled his hand in close, fingers entwined with his as she placed it against her belly. “it’s uh.. probably too early to celebrate, if you wanna celebrate anyway...i’ve only known a few days.. wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

[kemuele]

continued from here, @noditchablepromdate​

Bobby had not expected to suddenly have the angel’s head on his shoulder, and gave him a very bewildered look. “Uh... you okay there?” he asked cautiously. He’d only recently even met Kemuel, and while they’d been pretty civil to each other, he hadn’t realised they’d got to this level of personal comfort yet.

It wasn’t everyday he got out of his town, either wards or state as a whole. But he made an exception here or there, notably with interacting on a global scale. In Bobby’s case, the continental United States. Kemuel lifted his head a tad from Bobby’s look, likewise confused by...his shock? Concern? He took his head off to comb a hand through his dark hair, eyes looking to the hunter, “Yes, I am okay. Ah--did I make you uncomfortable?” After gifting a picture, his feather, and some tea, it had been about time to increase his visits.

Besides, it wasn’t everyday an archangel didn’t want to kill the Winchesters nor their affiliates. 

[gilesian]

@noditchablepromdate cont. from here (x).

Bobby had been cussing up a storm under his breath while Giles tied his leg up. The Brit had been right about not missing his shirt too much; this one was pretty damn old as it was, but its time had definitely run out now.

He didn’t even bother to argue about being supported. His leg was on the verge of giving out with every step they took, and he was grateful for the taller man’s help. “Didn’t think we’d gone too far,” he said, hefting his sawn-off shotgun at the sound of skittering. “You get a good look at it or was it movin’ too fast?”

If they weren’t sure what they were dealing with… hell, he’d just have to hope it wasn’t something that could spread its nature with a bite. That wasn’t how he wanted to go.

“Moved too fast,” he said curtly as he kept them moving. “But I saw the wound--claws, not teeth.” Lowered the risk of vampiric or lycan transformations, but they still had to be careful of toxins and infection. Time is of the essence.

Giles had kept his left side open, just in case they needed to defend themselves against whatever was attacking. He saw Bobby clutching his shotgun and thought their chances were good until something bowled him over from behind with such force that he fell where he stood, smacking his hip on a jutting rock.

The pain drew a strangled curse but he collected himself enough to call for the other man. “Bobby--you alright? We have to get to the edge of this forest--” More and more, skittering and rattling noises seemed to surround them. “I don’t think it likes us.”

[aloneinxthenight]

masque of sapphire by deana james// accepting

@noditchablepromdate​ asked: “cry if you want to. you’ll feel better.”

She didn’t need permission. But it was nice to have it. It was like a weight was taken off her, a weight that was far too familiar because she’d carried it for so long. It was invisible, but seemed to get heavier and heavier the older she got. One would think they could get used to the way grief sits heavy and hard in the heart, especially when they can’t address it.

But she was tired of being strong. She’d been strong when her mom died. When she’d heard her mother die just feet away from her. And then to walk in and find Caleb-the one who’d taught her so much, had become so important to her- dead... It was that same feeling. The one that she’d pushed down so she could empty caches and lug books to her Jeep. One she’d swallowed around as she made an anonymous tip to the cops from a payphone.

But she could only hold back for so long. And she’d been trying to keep her composure because the last thing she wanted to do was unload on Bobby. After all, with her news, he had just lost a friend. But, it seemed, he could see how much she was hurting.

"Bobby, I--” Voice cracking, her face crumbled as the weight finally lifted and her emotions overwhelmed her. Her hand shook as it came up to wipe at tears as they began to fall out of reflex. Once they started, once she let go, it was so hard to stop.

[joannahunts-a]

@noditchablepromdate liked for a starter

Jo licked her lips, hands curled around the coffee mug she’d been handed. She wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous, but she couldn’t get rid of the knots twisting in her stomach. Mom’s disapproval of her new relationship was inevitable and expected, but Bobby was a bit of a wildcard, and his opinion mattered to Jo.

“How long have you known?” she asked, chewing on her lip. “About me and Sam, I mean.”

[righteousmandownunder-a]

@noditchablepromdate x

Since his mother died a month ago, Dean had suddenly fallen mute, only talking when he wanted to. When he did communicate, though, it was through pictures or he would use his hands to make shapes.

When Bobby asked if he went anywhere exciting, Dean thought for a moment when his small hands gripping Bobby's shirt. Dean suddenly grinned and put his hands together to make a shape like a steeple for a church, indicating that they went to go see Pastor Jim for a few days. Dean always liked to play out in the back garden with the other kids under the supervision of Pastor Jim himself of course.

[missourimo]

Appointment Log; [ 01.18.21 / 02:39 CST ]

Last Responses:

@hellsmother         [intro]

@failedhero {John Winchester}         [intro]

@tobeblamed         [opener]

@noditchablepromdate        [intro]

@melandreia-aa         [intro]

@shieldofgod        [intro]

Currently Plotting:

failedhero {Dean Winchester}

This is in no way meant to rush you into responding to me, I am doing this for the sake of my own organizing and so you can easily find our thread if you lose it.

My ask and IMs are open for plotting, ask is open for starters if you wanna just drop one in there. If I made you a starter and it wasn’t formatted in the way you liked, let me know and I’ll fix it :)

I also have an open tag for anyone to pick from, even if they’re old, they’re still open for you to reblog. Have an awesome day

[almxst-angelic]

@noditchablepromdate [ Cnt x ]

He was sick, and she was the only person there that could help him.  Far be it from her to force such things on someone, but Bobby was the first to really reach out and try to help her.  He had been like... well.. strangely... The father she never had.. Or an Uncle that knew what was what, who never let you down.

In any case, she might as well have considered him family by this point.

So when he ended up sick with what could well be the flu, Stormy was already working on some of her special recipes to try to remedy the ailment.

“Please, Bobby.”  She gave him a soft, pleading look,  “I’ve already made fresh chicken noodle soup, and there’s a kettle on the stove for tea.  I have a lovely concoction that would help you recover faster.”  Stormy was still a bit timid, but not quite the stuttering, shy girl he had met initially.

The look he would find gazing so helplessly upon him, was filled with concern, and hope that he might give her a chance to do what she felt was the right thing.  Wide eyed, with eyebrows drawn upward together, and lips ever so slightly parted.  Freckled cheeks grew warm as hands fussed lightly with the apron she had opted to wear for the task.

[familyofhunters]

Phone Call +noditchablepromdate

Alice did another lap around the motel room, pacing a new hole in the carpet as she stared down at the phone in one hand and a slip of paper in the other. She could feel Vincent watching from where he sat on the bed. She had been looking at the slip of paper for the better part of a few now, trying to deside what to do.

The decisions was now made for her however, the motel owner had called them, saying they needed to pay for another day or they would need to leave tomorrow.  Alice had manged to get by and feed them by stealing and shop lifting when their money had run out the week before... But there was no way they could cover another day at this motel.

Dad had gone on a hunting trip and hadn’t come home. He said it may take a week maybe two and left them in month long booked motel. A week turned into two... Then three, now at the end of the fourth week... They hadn’t heard anything. Alice tried to call, left messages, text, each becoming more desperate then the last. She tried to stay strong for Vincent’s sake but her fear and worry where showing now.

When the money for food had run out she had gone though her Dad’s things, hoping to find another card or some cash. There was no money, but what she did find was a small book and some numbers in it. One caught her eye.

Bobby Singer.

She knew Bobby, kind of. She may have talked to him once or twice, he seem.... ok enough. Dad trusted him enough to get info from him, books and help when he was stuck on a hunt. If her father trusted the man enough to do that.... Maybe they could ask for help too? But Alice was scared, unsure of what to do. If she was over reacting and her father came home the next day, he would be furies... But what choice did they do now?

So taking a deep breath, Alice dialed the number and hit send, listen to the phone ring. 

[shieldofgod]

@noditchablepromdate​

Emmanuel’s life was one disjointed piece after another, but one wouldn’t know that to look at him.  To anyone just looking at him, he was an average looking man somewhere in his middle-thirties, dressed in average clothes, though not leading an exactly average life.

Mostly because he had no idea what his life even was.

His first memory of existence was crawling naked out of a reservoir a few months ago, where a kind woman named Daphne took pity on him and wrapped a picnic blanket around him.  She had also directed him to the local church-run shelter, where he was given clothes and a bed, and work as a groundskeeper.  And a name, since he didn’t remember his own.

The parish tried to help him; they did internet searches for missing persons and didn’t manage to dig anything up that they could directly correlate to him, and they were kind about him having no identification or knowledge of who he was.

They became even kinder once it turned out that he could heal people.

It wasn’t even something he was able to control, exactly; at least, not consciously.  He had been trimming the rose bushes that lined the walk when a woman in a wheelchair had come along; she had a back injury which made it hard for her to move, and they had talked awhile before shaking hands.  Emmanuel’s hand had warmed in hers considerably, enough to surprise them both, but then that was it.

Except, two days later, she came back walking on her own feet, convinced that his touch had healed her.

Now, three weeks later, Emmanuel was trying -- and failing -- to keep a low profile.  But there were several more people he had helped, even not knowing how he had, and word was moving exponentially in whispers in all directions that he was the ‘real deal’, a genuine faith healer.

He also wasn’t aware of how much danger that put him in, either.