rocketboots564

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I don’t think Supernatural fans understand how crazy hard a Death Stranding AU would go

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You know, getting into not just Vtm but the Wod franchise as a whole has been really fun, especially with the character creation.

But…. I’m realizing that every character I make is a “detective but not a cop more like a Sherlock Holmes” kinda character

Vampire? Crazy prophetic detective

Werewolf? Hobo martial arts detective

Mage? David Lynch style spirit detective

Do I plan on stopping when or if I get to the other books? Nah… detective characters are fun and I watch too many procedural crime shows to stop now.

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FUCK YOU HIGGS WHEN I CATCH YOU IM GONNA KILL YOU I SWEAR TO GOD I SWEAR

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Necrosis in Death Stranding is such a terrifying concept to me.

Humanity already fears death (and by extension the undead) for a number of reasons, but the thought of coming back as a supernatural entity capable of destruction that rivals the likes of a nuclear bomb is TERRIFYING.

It’s also just a really genius way of implementing Kojima’s patented way of non-lethally taking down enemies.

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I fucking love Delivery Dad Simulator (ft. Norman Reedus) I should’ve played this game years ago.

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I love the deadsam ship so much because like, I’ll be enjoying it and then I’ll take a step back…

I’m shipping Norman Reedus and critically acclaimed movie director Guillermo Del Toro. And it’s low key fire

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All Journeys Have Their Beginnings

A Supernatural one-shot (sort of) starring Ben Braeden and technically an OC that may never ever get any more explanation or detail idk.

This shit is NOT beta read… I wrote this in a couple hoursat 1:00 am (stopping midway through to finish watching the og Lilo and Stitch movie with my mother) and it’s now currently 3:22 am as I’m posting this.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

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Ben could feel the heat blazing down on him, the suns deadly rays burning up his skin. Rocky sand kicked up beneath his feet with every labored step as he dragged himself along the open road, if you could even call it that. At this point, he was merely following the faded tire marks he thought were on the ground. He was too tired, too hungry, and he didn’t know how much longer he could carry himself.

His eyes scanned across the barren horizon, the mirages burning themselves into his vision. He could hear his mother’s voice in his ears:

Find him… find Dean Winchester…

Whether or not that was his mind going crazy or sign telling the young boy to push forward, he wasn’t sure. He blinked and spotted it in the distance: a small shack of a house, with what seemed to be an outhouse beside it, and a field of dummy’s or mannequins posted out behind it. A vintage, old car sat parked nearby the house, and while Ben couldn’t make out exactly what model it was, he could tell it couldn’t have been more than forty or fifty years old.

This was it. This was the place.

With all the strength he could muster he marched faster, his backpack loosely slung over one of his shoulders as the small home got closer and closer.

“C’mon… c’mon! Almost there–” BANG

Ben nearly tripped over himself as a gust of rock and sand blew up into tiny chunks, a gunshot ringing out as the boy looked up. Before him stood a tan old woman in a straw hat, a double barreled shotgun nestled comfortably in her hands as it aimed directly at Ben.

“This is private property, and that was a warning shot boy,” she spoke in a low, serious tone, “Trust me when I say I won’t miss the next shot.”

“I-I come in peace okay!” Ben raised his hands, trembling slightly as stared down at the woman, her squinted eyes and pursed lips showing no sign of sympathy or emotion.

“Drop the bag,” she commanded. Ben did as told. “What’s your business here?”

“I heard you knew a few things,” Ben spoke softly, keeping his arms held up as best he could, “About demons. And monsters.”

That got a reaction out of the woman. Here eyebrow raised, her shoulders hunching slightly as she gripped her gun even tighter.

“Monsters huh?” She asked, “What would a kid like you need to know about that?”

“My mother…” Ben said, his eyes wincing as he tried to hold back the tremble in his voice… whether it came from remembering her or the fear of the gun pointed at him, he couldn’t tell. “My mother, she was k-killed… by a yellow-eyed demon. I-I found her, burning on the roof…”

The old woman’s eyes raised as she muttered something under her breath. A look of confusion, of fear and frustration dotted the lady’s face. She paused, before lowering her gun, setting it down to rest against the fence.

“Stay there. I didn’t say you could come any closer,” She snapped as Ben began to move, “What else? There’s something more you’ve yet to tell me.”

Ben struggled to find his words, “H-How’d you kno–”

“I just do,” she interrupted, “now speak.”

Ben nodded.

“Before she died, she told me to find somebody. She told me to ‘find Dean Winchester’. Since then… I’ve been trying to track down anyone who knows anything about the Winchesters,” he explained.

She looked at him with shock. The name seemed to astound her. This boy… he couldn’t have been older than a teenager, probably even less so. How? How did this… this child find her? How’d this child track her down?

“Your mother’s death, when did this happen?” She asked.

“7 months ago,” Ben replied, “I’ve been trying to find this place, and you, for three days.”

The woman’s mouth dropped, a gust of wind breaking the silence, as she began to laugh. “I spent years… years cutting all ties to my hunting life and holing myself up in a dingy shack in the middle of nowhere, with the only civilization I interact with being a small town some miles away that I go to for food and essentials… only for some boy to track across the desert to find me?”

“The Winchesters, do you know them?” Ben asked. He’d heard the stories in his travels. Tales of two brothers, Sam and Dean Winchesters, the greatest hunters of the modern age.

“Heh…. you mean the brothers? Sam and Dean, or whatever? No… I don’t,” She replied, watching the boy’s heart sink before her eyes, “But I knew their father, John. He was a good man, one who let the hunting life eat away at him, until he became the very monsters he’d slain… not in body, but in soul, or perhaps lack thereof. He raised his two as hunters the bastard… shaping them into his little soldiers. The only time I ever saw Sam and Dean Winchester, was when they were young, perhaps younger than you.”

She watched Ben’s shoulders sink, a light fading in his eyes as they began to well up. He’d come so far, looking for answers, for something that could guide him in the right direction. Ben could feel his knees growing weak beneath him, trembling under his weight.

“What a poor sight… coming all this way for what you think is nothing,” she began to speak, “Too inexperienced, too weak, and far too stupid.”

“S-Shut up,” Ben choked out.

“Look at you… dehydrated, hungry, hell, you can barely stand up,” she mocked the boy more, her arms crossed as she bore down at Ben under her gaze, “and you want revenge on what killed your mother? You must be dumber than you look. You’re failing before you barely even began.”

“SHUT UP!”

The cocktail of hunger, thirst, and heat boiled his brain, his blood, his emotions, as anger fueled him. He ran forward, an arm raised as he threw out a punch. Before he even registered his punch had connected to something, he felt his stomach drop, as he flipped through the air. His back landed on ground with the thud as he felt the wind get knocked out of his body, leaving him gasping and choking.

“Now that… that was stupid,” the woman spoke unimpressed, “The punch was telegraphed, not to mention you have no energy to throw anything remotely damaging. Don’t ever do that again.”

Ben began to cry, tears streaming down his face. She was right… it was over. He wasn’t any closer to finding the Winchesters or his mother’s killer than he was 7 months ago. He was stupid for thinking he could find the answers on his own. Now he was far from home, far from his friends and whatever family he might’ve had left, lost in the middle of a desert.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry mom. I-I couldn’t d-do it…” he whimpered, staring up at the blue sky above him.

Something in his words, in the desperation and distraught that sunk into every utterance of his voice… it struck the lady. It caught her attention. The look in his eyes, it reminded her of something… of someone. A girl who’d long since faded away. A girl who watched her own family get slaughtered by a creature of the night. A girl who’d spent years pushing her body and mind to the limit to take revenge on the bastards responsible. She looked into the sky, watching as a flock of birds passed over the clouds, drifting through the wind as they journeyed across the barren wasteland.

“Why give up now?” She asked, standing over him, her bold silhouette blocking out the light of the sun, casting her in an eclipse before the boy, “Like I said, you’d only just begun.”

“W-What?” Ben gasped through the tears, staring up at her.

“I can turn you into a world-class sharpshooter. I can fold and form you into a black-belt fighter in hand-to-hand combat. I can train you to be a hunter… a real hunter. Not some kid with a gun, silver, and a dream. It’ll take some years, but I can do it,” she said. Her eyes bored into Ben’s soul, as if to weed out his conviction, ripping it out before her to observe like a hawk stalking its prey. And yet, there was no animosity in her gaze, only strength, a confidence, drive, and most of all certainty with which she seemed to emanate. She was certain of it, of what she could build from the boy lying in front of him.

“P-Please…” Ben croaked out.

“I’ll need to feed you first,” she sniffed, wincing and scrunching her nose, “God! And bathe you next.”

Ben tried to let out something like a chuckle, but only a small huff of breath escaped his lips.

“Well then, boy–”

“It’s Ben,” Ben interrupted, “My name. It’s Ben Braeden.”

“Well then, Ben Braeden,” she smiled, “You’re training begins today.”

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Tagging both@spn-tng and @loveswinchesters cause I low key wrote this kinda for both of you, but also because I was bored, and also because I realized how long it was taking me to post anything fanfic related to Ben or Jesse or any of the tfw kids.

I’m so fucking tired but I can’t sleep. I hope you enjoyed this sleep-deprived mess. I’m gonna wake up and probably notice at least 5-10 different things I could’ve changed or written better.

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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗

𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍

𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢

𝙰 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚢

𝚆𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

Jamiroquai “Starchild”

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Sometimes I take a look at my Jesse Turner board on Pinterest and realize this is the FIRST THING you see on this section

Soooo…. Uhmmmm… can you tell I like Jesse Turner angst?

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Supernatural and Silent Hill

I’ve probably made a post about this somewhere, but shoutout to the Silent Hill inspired 15x18 Destiel Spotify playlist I made

You’d be surprised how many Silent Hill songs can be used as metaphors for Destiel angst (or just general Dean and/or Castiel angst overall)

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This is the best analogy for this ever… like….

spn writers are like the kids in school with a bunch of toys and whenever you ask to play with them they say: "yeah but you have to play mY WAY." meanwhile they're dunking one toy in glue and throwing another across the room.

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And if I said the both of them teaming up together to try and track down Dean and Sam was the plot of a fanfic I’m going to write (once I stop procrastinating)

" ben...? "

" yeah, jess? "

" it's gonna be okay. remember what we promised... we'll figure this out together. "

ben braeden & jessie turner

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SERIOUSLY THIS IS ME BEGGING NOW…. Just the hair and stubble of Dean OR Sam.

Please… PLEASE!!! IT’D BE SO FUCKING COOL! I SWEAR TO GOD ILL COMMISSION SOMEONE FOR IT!!

All I’m saying is I’d kill for a Supernatural mod on Resident Evil 4 (or really any game). I mean just the outfits if anything…

I mean, with a couple of mods this is the closest I could get to a Dean look... and honestly it's pretty good

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And for those wondering, here are the links to those mods:

The Actual Clothes & Stuff:

Grave's Hair Mod

Resident Evil 6 Jacket

James Sunderland outfit (SH2 remake)

James Sunderland outfit (SH2 original)

No More Floating Weapons

What You'll Need To Run It:

Fluffy Mod Manager

All I’m saying is I’d kill for a Supernatural mod on Resident Evil 4 (or really any game). I mean just the outfits if anything…

I mean, with a couple of mods this is the closest I could get to a Dean look... and honestly it's pretty good

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All I’m saying is I’d kill for a Supernatural mod on Resident Evil 4 (or really any game). I mean just the outfits if anything…

I mean, with a couple of mods this is the closest I could get to a Dean look... and honestly it's pretty good

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How it feels wanting to be a writer only to remember you have an Oklahoma education (ranked 49th in the USA by the way… that’s second lowest in the nation) and are probably more illiterate than a goddamn salamander with brain damage

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So, I decided I’d listen to “No Surprises” and “Let Down” by Radiohead considering I stumbled upon their music while making my Jesse Turner playlist (and their overall rise in popularity as of late)

Anyway, I maladaptive daydreamed, as I do with almost every song I listen to… and… I am so sorry Jesse.

To all the Jesse-lovers (myself included), you’re all gonna hate and love what I do to our fav (if and/or when I get around to properly writing more of my fics. I am writing for one rn though)