#Crowley Louisiana

[keepersofnostalgia]

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This man is being photographed sewing bags of rice at a thresher in Crowley, Louisiana. (September 1938)

📸 Lee Russell (1903-1986) 📷 Farm Security Administration - Office of War Information Photograph Collection (Library of Congress)

[justinspoliticalcorner]

David Smith at The Guardian:

God’s army is on the march. And many of its foot soldiers are wearing “Make America great again” regalia, sensing that their unlikely standard-bearer, former US president Donald Trump, is once again close to the promised land. “I do not believe that America can survive another four years of Joe Biden,” Ralph Reed, founder and chair of the Faith & Freedom Coalition, told a gathering of the religious right in Washington on Friday. “I haven’t felt this way since Jimmy Carter was president.” The audience burst into knowing laughter. Reed promised they would knock on 10m doors of Christian and conservative voters in every battleground state, make 10m phone calls, send 25m text messages and put 30m voter guides in 113,000 churches, producing “the biggest turnout of Christian voters in American history”. The election result will be clear, he added. “This time there aren’t gonna need to be any lawsuits. We’re not going to have to go to court and we’re not going to have to wait until 2.30 in the morning for Donald Trump to declare victory. He’s going to do it at 9 o’clock at night!”

With Trump running ahead of Biden in many swing state polls, religious right voters scent a historic opportunity to impose a radical agenda that could ban abortion nationwide, curb LGBTQ+ rights and blur the separation of church and state. At Friday’s conference, speaker after speaker framed it as righteous crusade and the only way to resist a tide of liberal secularism sweeping America. Ben Carson, a former housing secretary in Trump’s first term, praised Republican-dominated Louisiana for becoming the first state to require that the Ten Commandments be displayed in every government school classroom. “Aren’t you glad that yesterday the governor of Louisiana signed into law – put the Ten Commandments back in the schools?” he said to cheers and applause before warning of a 60-year communist project to change America by taking over schools, churches and Hollywood and removing God from the public square.

Josh Hawley, a Republican senator for Missouri, warned of a “radical anti-faith agenda” gripping the country. He said: “Who’s dividing America is the radical left and that’s why I say to you we don’t need less Christian influence in our society, we don’t need less Christian witness in our society; we need more in every part of government, in every part of society.” To approving roars from the audience, Hawley added: “We ought to take the Pride flag out of schools and put the Bible back in. You know what? We ought to take the trans flag down from all of our federal buildings and over every federal building in America write the words: ‘In God we trust.’ In God we trust. Amen.”

The couching of an Armageddon election, in which religious truth itself is at stake, with victory representing divine providence and defeat spelling total catastrophe, was crystallised by Monica Crowley, a rightwing political commentator and former assistant secretary of the treasury. She described the election as a “hinge moment” comparable to the American revolution, American civil war, second world war and September 11 terrorist attacks. She spoke of a “war” against “the enemy within” that has spent nearly half a century “infiltrating, undermining and destroying” America with “godless philosophies”. Crowley lamented that Hollywood no longer produces “patriotic films” like those of John Wayne and, extraordinarily, defended the communist witch-hunts of the 1950s. “Senator Joe McCarthy was right, and he was trying to ring the bell in the 1950s about communist infiltration in our government and the same deep state that is now going after Donald Trump,” he said.

[...] Religious conservatives’ pact with Trump appears to be holding. Some were sceptical about the thrice-married reality TV star when he first ran for president in 2016 but the concerns were assuaged by his running mate, born-again evangelical Christian Mike Pence, and by a first term that saw him shift the judiciary to the right. Not even Trump’s conviction in New York last month on 34 felony counts in a trial involving hush-money payments to an adult film star has shaken his grip on this constituency. Many who complain that their faith is under siege regard him as a blunt instrument with which to fight back against the radical left. They often rationalise their vote by saying they are choosing a president, not a pastor. Some evangelicals have likened him to Cyrus the Great, the Persian king who, according to the Bible, enabled Jews to return to Israel from their exile in Babylon.

Why is the religious right sticking behind Donald Trump, who is not a sincere Christian and has been charged with 34 felonies? They view him as an useful instrument to push their wicked far-right agenda into law: eroding the separation of church and state, abortion bans, and anti-LGBTQ+ laws.

These same folks were all “character counts” when Bill Clinton was facing sex scandals, but jettisoned them when Trump has done the same and a lot more.

[unteriors]

S Avenue O, Crowley, Louisiana.

[osiristhehermit]

LOUISIANA AMEN

[bigfootbeat]

Strange Monster Scares Citizens

From the The Crowley Post-Signal published in Crowley, Louisiana on 12/19/1906.

[federer7]

Cajun fiddler, Crowley, Louisiana, 1938

Photo by Russell Lee for Farm Security Administration

[jjextseo]

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[1264doghouse]

Wayne Perry, a Cajun fiddler of Crowley, Louisiana, , ca. 1935 in photographs from the Alan Lomax Collection, Library of Congress.

[zepskies]

Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘

Hello, my dear!!

Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘

Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).

I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.

Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.

You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.

You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.

“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.

For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.

So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.

Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”

“Hey…it’s me.”

Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.

It’s been a year.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.

You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.

“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.

You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.

“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.

“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”

And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.

After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.

Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly. ��

As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.

But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.

The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.

You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it though.

You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.

Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)

Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.

You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.

“Hey, easy on my Baby.”

You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.

Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.

You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.    

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”

Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.

“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”

You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.

And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.

In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.

It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.

Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.

“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.

“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”

Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.

“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.

When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.

“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.

“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”

Dean turns to him with a frown.

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.

Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”

Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.

He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.

Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.

Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”

He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.

You draw him into you and it begins.

Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.

Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.

The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.

You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.

“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.

“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.

But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.

“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.

When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.

He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.

It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”

He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.

His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.

You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.  

He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.

You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.

"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.

After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.

And you begin again.

AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲

I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."

So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉

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@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @fabimaou @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @syrma-sensei

[alexjcrowley]

I realised my passion for crossover has just created a multiverse of, I don't fucking know, detectives and supernatural stuff (no, it's NOT superwholock)

So we start by assuming, like some already did, that Q from the Daniel Craig's James Bond movies is the fourth Holmes's siblings. So you get four Holmes: Mycroft, Sherlock, Eurus and Q. But then Q in clearly in a romantic relationship with James Bond.

Now it's undeniable that James Bond has a twin brother, Benoit Blanc, who is the world's most famous detective, and he is married to Philip (Hugh Grant). You can clearly notice from Benoit's...everything (passion for mistery and fasion sense most of all) that he is related to Fred Jones from Scooby Doo, he and Philip are in fact Fred's parents.

To conclude this part of multiverse of hyperfixation, James Bond exists in the same world of a bunch of teenagers with 1970's van and a talking dog. I cannot stress how important it is for me that Sherlock Holmes DOES NOT solve the mustery of why Scooby Doo can talk.

But let's now expand in a different direction.

For some of you who might not be acquainted with the medical drama House MD, it's one of the gayest shows ever made on God's green earth. And, as all the fans know, the REAL finale is House and Wilson running away together after all Wilson's problems suddenly disappeared (I am phrasing it like that because I don't want to spoil it). Now, of course they can't live in America because House can't exactly recover from his own Reichenbach falls, so obviously they have go to London. Like, no questions asked.

And as many have already speculated they are probably the married couple Mrs Hudson's friend was renting an apartment to.

Sherlock-Watson and House-Wilson have a complicated dynamic going on, I just know they suspect of eachothers because there's something wrong with the other couple.

London comes, of course, with all it inhabitants, such as Crowley and Aziraphale (whose supernatural presence could explain Scooby Doo being able to talk???? Maybe he is an ex-infernal hound sent to Shaggy??? Was Shaggy another aborted attempt at an Antichrist?????). I really likes to believe they're House-Wilson and Sherlock-Watson neighbours. And every one of these three couples tries to pretend they're a very normal couple, and not, like, non-human or a Government's resource or technically dead.

But also, you must not forget, London comes with Hob Gadling, the immortal lover of Sandman, who might as well exist in this universe, because why the fuck not, he stole the "meet every x years" idea from Crowley, the goddamn poser. Hob Gadling and Crowley clocked eachothers in a minute and now the two couples have dinners together because "they're the only other supernatural couple in the neighbourhood, we should befriend them!" (said Aziraphale and Hob while Crowley and Morpheus sighed).

ALSO to House MD fans I want to remind you that Wilson got arrested in Louisiana when he met House and there's a popular headcanon going on that Benoit Blanc is from Louisiana so do you think??? Benoit Blanc one day happened to interact with the police department of a city in Louisiana and a policeman was like "hey last week you missed a guy from New Jersey who deadass smashed an ancient mirror in a bar because they were playing a song he didn't like on the jukebox". And Benoit was like (I can't write his dialogues I am so sorry) "Mmhh yeah muhst say thur arh sum jingles I simply cannut grow fund of but by Guhd to,,, smash an ancient mirruh that wuld be bee-YOnd mahself"

And these connections are all canonical in my mind. (There are crossover fanfics between Good Omens and Sandman, and between House and BBC Sherlock, and between Sherlock and the James Bond franchise, and between House and Good Omens- there's a fic I really like with these fandoms- and there's a drawing I also reblogged on Tumblr of Fred presenting Benoit Blanc as his dad).

So, basically, in my head, Sherlock is highly pissed off by Benoit Blanc being considered the best detective in the world though he respects him, Q is Fred Jones's uncle and probably added a lot of cool MI6 features to the mystery machine, Gregory House, notorious atheist, lives in the same universe of angels and demons and the Sandman and pisses off Sherlock Holmes costantly just because they don't like eachothers, Hob Gadling amd Crowley looked at eachothers once and they knew neither of them were humans, Aziraphale and Crowley always stumble in every other characters' shenanigans and once in a while throw a miracle their way and Hugh Grant/Philip makes cupcakes for everyone.

And if you really want me to be precise, Dead Poet Society lore counts for Wilson, but Neil didn't, well, if you saw the movie you know.

And I know they are technically not correlated, but I would love to find a way to connect Dirk Gently, Todd Brotzman and The Rowdy Three in all this.

There's a part 2 to this post here

[dwonfilm]

Come hell or high water. | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Looming over the Winchesters and [Y/N] is the war between heaven and hell. Dean will ultimately be faced with a choice he’d never be able to make. What will happen?

This will be a multi-part story, not necessarily set in a specific season but around 4-5 (verging on 6 now) would be the best fit.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of alcoholism, violence, sadness.

Mentions: Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Bobby Singer, Crowley, other made-up characters to further the plot.

Here’s Part IV if you haven’t read.

Flashbacks are in bold.

Part V:

It had been about a year since Lucifer had ruined Dean’s life. At least.. he thought it was a year. Honestly? He’d given up trying to keep track of time after a month. Frankly if Sam wasn’t keeping the tally on where or when or how.. Dean had no clue. Well.. that wasn’t the entire truth. There was one thing that he could keep track of and that was the alcohol cabinet. It ran out far more often over the course of the last year than it ever had. Sam tried, several times in fact, to get his brother to sober up. Every couple months like clockwork the younger Winchester would try to pick up more pieces of his older brother’s life. Today had just so happened to coincide with that schedule. Sam sighed, walking into the dank motel room that the brothers had been sharing for a few days. They’d been in Phoenix for a couple of days and once this case had come up, Sam knew it was gonna be hard. [Y/N] was from Arizona and having to face this state without her would be hard for them, of course more so for Dean. “Did you bring more whiskey?” Dean’s words were slurring together slightly, but it wasn’t anything that Sam wasn’t used to—there was hardly a day that went by where his older brother wasn’t drinking himself to the point of blacking out.

“Dean, you can’t help me hunt this thing if you’re shitfaced.” Sam again sighed, because as much as he meant that, he knew better than to come back without the booze. He’d tried that a couple of times during the first few months of her absence. Once in New Orleans and the other in Houston. Both times had resulted in fists being thrown. Louisiana was the time where the punch connected, Dean nailing his baby brother square in the jaw—apologizing for it immediately after. Texas had him shoving Sam into the wall and holding him there before breaking down into a fit of tears. “Mhm, yeah, the hell I can’t.” Again Dean’s words slurred into one another and he pulled his hand over his face. “Sammy.. I can’t. I can’t be here knowing that she isn’t with us.. I can’t be here knowing that and be sober. I promise you I’ll lay off on it next case.. please. I can’t do it here.” Dean sighed, his voice raspy and raw with emotion. It was the most sober sentence that he’d uttered in a long time. Sam moved across the room to the bed that was his brother’s for the time being and sat on the edge. Next to it on the nightstand was an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. “Dean I know this is hard but..” he paused, not wanting to push his brother but this isn’t healthy and at this rate he was killing his liver and quick. “..this isn’t what [Y/N] would want for you, man. She-“ Dean’s gaze shot upward and the bloodshot nature of his eyes was made clear.

“Don’t. Don’t use her for your own personal gain here.” Again his words sloshed together and Sam just looked at him. “My personal gain? Dean the only thing I’m trying to gain here is my brother not killing himself by drowning in alcohol. She wouldn’t want you killing yourself and making yourself more vulnerable to the shit we hunt day in and day out. I know she was your girlfriend, I know she was the love of your life but she was like my sister and I loved her too.” For so long Sam had buried his own grief, his own guilt for letting [Y/N] make that call and letting her leave, his sadness about not only losing someone he cared deeply for but living every single day to watch his brother killing himself slowly. “I promised her I’d take care of you, Dean.” Sam’s voice was just barely above a whisper. He’d expected his older brother to yell, to shove him off of the bed where they sat, to have yet another heated argument with Dean. What Sam wasn’t expecting however was the deep sigh and the shakiness of his brother’s voice when he did speak. “I know.. I’m sorry Sammy.” Dean’s voice was small, it was clear that they both had used the little bit of silence to begin crying. Another silence washed over the two brothers and it stayed like that for a number of minutes.

“I’m worried about you, Dean. I don’t say these things to make you feel shitty man, I just know she wouldn’t want this for you and I don’t want it either. Cas is working a lead that may be able to help us with getting her back, but right now we need to help these families. I’ve been going over some of these details in my head and I think it might be a witch.” Sam explained, but this only had Dean’s irritation return. “Great. We just had to come to Arizona and it just had to be a witch. Someone up there’s got a real sick sense of humor!” He shouted, looking up knowing that if the angels were still tuned in, they’d have heard him. Sam couldn’t help but sigh softly, it really seemed like the world was stacking the deck. However that was nothing new. “It’s late man, try to get some sleep. I’m gonna look some more and see if there’s something I missed—hell maybe I’m wrong.” It wasn’t likely that he was and both of them knew that. “Yeah, alright.” Sam stood up from the bed and moved over to the little table in the corner of the room. Dean reached into his bag, grabbing the same flannel he’d taken everywhere else. When it started to lose the smell of her, he’d spray it with her perfume. He’d just done so last week, so the smell was strong. Laying it between his arms he would slowly sink down to a laying position. Resting his head on part of the fabric and letting the exhaustion and drunkenness take him to sleep.

It was summer, they’d had a surprisingly quiet week. Sam was at Stanford and so the only person that Dean had except for his dad was [Y/N]. They were laid on Baby’s hood, the night slowly enveloping the daytime sky. It was a good week too, they hadn’t really fought much. Right now they’re just enjoying each other’s company and gazing up at the stars. “I think it’s so funny, we’re so small physically in the world and yet we alter it for the better almost every single day.” [Y/N] spoke softly, her [Y/E/C] eyes fixated upon the sunset overhead. Dean turned on his side to face her with a smirk upon his features. “Sweetheart we both know there’s nothing ‘little’ about me.” Dean replied, winking quickly at her. He was met with a smack to the shoulder while she chuckled softly. “Not what I meant, idiot.” She replied, turning her head to face him. Dean’s expression feigned hurt but he was smiling through the mock ‘offence’. His green eyes flicked upward for a moment to watch the sky darken. “I know, sometimes it feels like we should be welcomed into these towns with a party.” He spoke, sighing softly. “You mean like a hero’s welcome?” [Y/N] asked. Dean simply nodded. “I mean.. we probably should. If even half of the world knew what was really out there.. this entire planet would freak. People like us have been.. we’ve had our whole lives taken from us in a sense and yet we just.. keep going.” Now Dean turned his attention back to [Y/N]. “You mean to tell me you’d wanna be normal?” He asked, quirking his brow. She sighed before looking back up to the sky. “I don’t know.. I was never given the chance to know what normal looked like—this is all I’ve ever known.”

Things got quiet for a little while but Dean’s eyes kept finding their way over to [Y/N]. “If you have a question, you can just ask.” She spoke softly, not moving her gaze from the stars that were now making their appearance in the sky. He never knew how she did that—just knew what he was thinking in a way that wasn’t invasive or supernatural. She just.. knew him. “Did you.. did you think about hanging it up before you met me? After.. your dad?” Dean’s tone was soft, he didn’t bring up [Y/N]’s father much because it was obviously a sensitive subject. She released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and slowly looked over to meet his gaze. “Did the thought cross my mind? Sure. I was younger, you know probably could’ve scammed my way into some college.” She sighed. “I also was distraught and sad and not thinking with much clarity. By the time you and your dad showed up, I was already convincing myself to look for work. Maybe fate brought you to me.” [Y/N] smiled as she reached over towards Dean, her hand gently cupping his face. She knew he was in his head too much, probably trying to blame himself for keeping her from a ‘normal’ life. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Dean had woken up as her lips touched his, that was a memory that he’d forgotten he had. Sighing, he squeezed his eyes closed to get rid of the tears he knew had built up quickly. Rolling over he looked at the clock. 7:45AM. Turning around he saw that at some point Sam had gone to bed. There was no way he was going back to sleep now nor did he want to, so he opted to take a shower. There was the beginnings of a headache coming on, because for the first time in.. god knows how long he’d actually taken a break in drinking alcohol. Time had gotten away from him until he heard knocking on the bathroom door. “Hey man, leave some hot water for me.” Sam spoke before walking back to the table to get back to work. After a couple minutes Dean emerged from the bathroom and took a glance at the clock. 8:45AM. He turned towards his younger brother to see him eating, a breakfast burrito on the opposite side of the table for him. “Thanks.” He spoke up before sitting in the other chair and unwrapping the food. “No problem.” He responded before taking a bite of his own food, immediately after leaning closer to his screen. “So, unfortunately, I was right. This is definitely a witch.” Sam said, using his touchpad to scroll further down on whatever he was reading. Dean groaned before taking his first bite of the burrito. While he ate, Sam went over the details of the case and where they’d have to go in order to get more answers.

They’d found the witch, who was killing people for their hearts—collecting them to use in some kind of dark spell to grant her and her coven immortality and power. Sam and Dean had located her home after noticing a pattern with where the bodies had been found by police. This house had a storm cellar and it was likely that she was taking her victims down there to extract their hearts. Despite keeping quiet, somehow the witch had been alerted to their presence. “Sam and Dean Winchester. I should’ve known you’d be on my trail.” She spoke, turning away from the woman who she’d kidnapped. “Yeah well, if you know who we are you should know this little killing spree you’re on is finished.” Dean spoke, his gun aimed at the witch. Sam had his gun aimed too and the witch turned fully to face the brothers. “Is that so?” She asked, an eery smile upon her lips. “We can spare the song and dance cause no one’s interested.” Dean spoke up again. It was clear that his nerves were at the end of their rope. Sam didn’t necessarily disagree with his brother but the tension was getting worse. “I mean, we could.. but then I couldn’t mention the fact that I have very powerful friends.” She continued. “Why would we care who your friends are?” Sam asked, confused that this was the plan to try and get them to spare her life. “I have a spell for immortality and power growth, doesn’t that make you think about what other powerful spells my coven possesses? Ones that could maybe, free trapped people?” She continued and suddenly it clicked in Sam’s brain. “Don’t.” He warned the witch.

Dean quirked a brow but didn’t turn or move, keeping his eyes and his aim on the witch. “What? You don’t want to help your brother?” She asked, the younger Winchester getting increasingly irritated. “What are you talking about?” Dean asked, which caused Sam to groan. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. “People talk, people whisper. I’ve heard all sorts of things about you two—two who used to be three.” Dean’s stomach twisted in knots. It was clear what she’d been hinting at now and it left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. Sam’s protective instincts took over and he pushed his way in front of his brother. “That’s enough.” Sam warned, his nerves being pushed. However this witch knew that she was in a matter of living or dying and wasn’t going to give up so easy. “What? Hey, if you want to leave her suffer in the pits of hell.. that’s cold but I support it.” Dean winced at this statement. He spent so many nights restless, wondering what kinds of torture Lucifer was making [Y/N] endure—knowing full well that he loved the emotional side of things almost as much as the physical. “I said that’s enough.” Sam repeated, knowing that despite his older brother having a hatred for witches, he’d very likely do anything to free [Y/N]. “You think I’m just trying to keep myself alive, but like I said I know lots of powerful witches. There’s a spell out there that can help. You just have to come back with me. I help you, you help me. We’ll get [Y/N] and—“ Suddenly the witch dropped to the ground, dead. Sam had heard enough and once her name was spoken it was the final straw. Dean moved to free the girl who had almost been another victim, getting her out of there.

Six months later.

Fort Wayne, Indiana—the boys had just finished a hunt. Vamps nest was completely wiped out. After cleaning up, Sam basically forced Dean to go to the local bar. Not because he wanted anything from his brother but he knew that today marked a year and a half since [Y/N] was forced to go to hell alongside Lucifer. Staying in the motel room would only mean that Dean would get too in his head. Sam was hoping that the music and the pool alongside a bit of alcohol would be enough to keep his mind at bay, at least for a little while. Dean sat in a booth sipping his beer while Sam had gone for refills. There was a blonde who’d been eyeing Dean every so often, clearly interested in something. Seeing that he was alone she figured it was the best time to approach him. Confidently she walked over to the table, swaying her hips just a bit with each step. Once she reached the booth she paused, seeing if Dean would react in any way to her presence. About a minute went by and he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even turned his head to look in her direction. She cleared her throat which broke Dean from his daze. “Can I help you?” He asked flatly, looking up at the woman for a brief few seconds before gazing forward again. “I was just wondering if I could join you, you seem lonely over here.” She tucked some of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I’ll pass.” He stated plainly, hoping that Sam would be back any moment. It was clear her confidence took a blow but she was trying to remain determined. “C’mon.. I’ll get you a refill. What would it hurt to get to know one another?” She continued and it looked like Dean was about to snap but Sam finally approached the booth. “My brother said no, so, go back to whatever you were doing.”

Scoffing the blonde turned on her heel and walked back to her table and friends. Sam slid the fresh beer over towards his brother and sighed before sitting down. “Sorry, I never thought about that.” He spoke up, lifting the glass bottle to his lips. “About what?” Dean asked, but then he clued in. “It’s fine. I never thought about the possibility either. Usually..” Now it was the older brother’s turn to sigh. Usually [Y/N] would either scare the girls off altogether, making it obvious she and Dean were an item or she’d tell them off directly—hell she’d even fist fought a couple. Sam felt bad and in this moment was questioning whether dragging Dean out was doing more harm than good. He watched as the eldest of the two took a swig of the beer he’d been handed. Time ticked, a few minutes of silence between the brothers where the noises of the bar took hold. Suddenly Sam’s phone rang, so he flipped it open to answer the call. “Hey Bobby, what’s up?” He spoke, Dean’s mind having him only paying half attention. It had been several minutes since his brother spoke and that finally had Dean’s full attention. “What is it?” He asked, the expression on his younger brother’s face unreadable. “Yeah that was Dean, he’s with me.” Sam replied, to Bobby, with Dean leaning forward to attempt to hear whatever the conversation was about but he the table stopped him from getting too close. “Sam.” Dean said sternly, trying to get the information. He held up one finger to try and get his brother to wait. “Yeah, alright. We’ll be on our way. Bye.” Sam closed his phone and looked at his brother but the expression was still blank.

“Sam what’s going on?” Dean’s tone laced with worry, confusion and a couple other emotions. “We need to go to Bobby’s—now.” He replied before standing up and beginning to walk towards the door. Blinking a bit, the older of the two was still in a sort of a daze. “Dean! Come on!” Sam called out, which had his brother sliding out the booth and quickly catching up to his younger brother. They walked to the impala and Sam got in the driver’s side, leaving Dean to get into the passenger seat. Flicking his wrist now, Baby’s engine purred to life and the younger Winchester pulled out of the parking space and onto the road. First they had to stop at the motel to grab their stuff and check out. Sam took the duty of loading up their things while he gave Dean the key to return to the office. He’d ran the key back and thanked them for the room before returning to Sam who was just closing the trunk. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked, resting his forearms on Baby’s roof. Sam was double checking that he had everything before closing the door to the room. “Sam!” He exclaimed, causing the taller of them to turn towards his brother. “What Dean?!” His mind had been racing ever since he hung up from the call with Bobby. “Are you gonna clue me in? Why do we need to rush to Bobby’s?” Sam knew his brother was right to ask, it wasn’t like him to keep things from his older brother but it wasn’t his call—he also wasn’t sure on things. Hell Bobby wasn’t sure either. “I.. I’m not sure if it’s something and Bobby asked me to just get there, with you, as fast as we can.” He explained, fidgeting with the keys to the impala in his hand.

Dean was confused, searching his younger brother’s eyes for any kind of hint as to what was so important. He wanted to argue, wanted to push for more information but at the end of the day he trusted Bobby. “Okay.” He said, pulling on the handle and getting into the passenger seat. “Okay.” Sam mirrored, slipping into the drivers side yet again and backing out from the motel and taking off down the road. Sioux Falls was their destination and if they could make it without any stops that would be best. Dean’s mind was racing—it could be so many different things. They had so much going on that it was hard to pinpoint what issue Bobby had cracked or what he was getting close to cracking. Man their lives were a mess, a chaotic and insane mess that most humans would never be able to grasp. Sam had a firm grip on the wheel as he drove, which he’d been doing most of the time over the last year and a half. Often times Dean had too much whiskey in his system and honestly, his older brother wasn’t putting up much of a fight about it. When it came time to drive to a different state, Dean was close to the point of blacking out anyway. Most drives during this time was Sam being alone with his thoughts while Dean passed out and slept. Slept until a nightmare woke him up, or sometimes worse, a dream that felt so real that Dean forgot [Y/N] was gone. Those hit him the hardest, the realization that she was in hell along with the sobriety like an 18 wheeler running him down. Nightmares were a toss up. It was either stress and trauma from his own time in hell or it was imagining what kind of suffering that [Y/N] was being forced to endure. Sam wished he could do more, but all he could do was offer moral support and watch.

It was almost two days later by the time that Sam and Dean were pulling into Bobby’s yard. Neither of the brothers could pinpoint where it came from, or when, but their anxiety was piqued. Neither of them really knew what they were walking into but both of them basically sprinted up the steps and knocked once before walking into the house. “Hello boys.” Sam and Dean both wide eyed when they saw Crowley sitting in the living room. “W-what are you doing here?” Sam asked, Dean wasting no time and drawing his gun. “Where’s Bobby?” Dean demanded, but his question was answered immediately after when the older man walked in with a couple of books. “Dammit, boy. Put that thing away.” Bobby spoke to Dean, which had a look of confusion cross the eldest Winchester’s face. “What?” He asked, looking at Singer. “Put the goddamn gun away if you wanna get down to it. We don’t got much time.” Bobby replied, flipping through the pages of one of the books he’d brought in. “What does Crowley have to do with things?” Sam asked, to which the King of Hell laughed. His gaze shifting between both of the brothers before speaking. “Well I’m here to help you lot bust [Y/N] out of Hell.”

Author’s note: Hi! Sorry if the chapters are getting shorter, I can’t tell, but I feel like the story is still being told sufficiently. I still haven’t decided how many parts this will be but I know for the most part where I’m taking it but just wanted to add that in—I feel like the first couple chapters were longer. I guess the lengths just vary with what I’m trying to convey. Hope you guys enjoy! 😊

• —– ٠ tag list: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester ✤ ٠ —– • ·

[mrhyde-mrseek]

So I recently started practicing paganism! I currently worship Hades, Persephone, Dionysus, Athena, and Hermes, and I wanted to tell y’all about their altars

Hermes’s is a work in progress, I’m still looking for stuff to put on it (I commissioned a custom deity candle from Darkly Divine Crystals for him & I’m just waiting for them to accept the request), but right now the altar has:

My Polaroid camera

A Newsies keychain

A turkey(?) feather I found in my yard

A pretty rock from the waterfront when I went with some friends

A couple coins from my backpack

A wax Voodoo doll my dad got on a business trip to Louisiana

And this one’s Athena’s! It has

A wooden puzzle game

My kindle

A blue rock that says “creativity” (it was from a shop downtown)

A different blue and gray rock

Two tiny plastic trophies

A flowerpot (her offering bowl) with a Good Omens pen and two feathers in it

A Kamala Harris magnet from the Female Power Project

My desk lamp, which was already there but I thought Athena would like it

A scented candle

Dionysus’ altar used to be on my radiator cover next to my Playbills, but it’s really wobbly and I got scared of things falling and /or breaking, so I moved it to my bookshelf next to my makeup. Currently it has:

Two amethyst crystals

One of my several pronoun pins

A pinecone

A purple candle

A crystal ball-shaped cup (their offering bowl) with a purple wildflower in it

A gold paper heart one of my friends made me

An old painting I made that coincidentally had some of Dionysus’ exact colors

A satyr statue I made during an art class

(He also really wanted this goat plushie and these red heart sunglasses but there was no room on the altar, they’re still his tho they’re just on my other bookshelf)

Hades and Persephone share an altar, partially because I only have so many places to put an altar, partially because they’re married and don’t seem to mind sharing! Since it’s a joint altar, it’s definitely the biggest one, and has:

Red Crowley-esque sunglasses I got for my last birthday

A skull and raven Halloween decoration

Another Halloween decoration, it’s like a little shelf thing with bottled fake(?) dried herbs

A candleholder from the thrift store (Hades really wanted it)

A bat plushie that my friend named Marcel the Mycelium Bat because it has mushrooms on it

A flowerpot (Persephone’s offering bowl) with a (now dead) flower that I’m gonna return to the earth for her and a crow feather

A spellbook Halloween decoration

A Hadestown magnet

A little red candle

A metal bowl from 1978 (Hades’ offering bowl) with some crystals, loose change, and a letter I wrote to him

A little stone snake

[crumb]

Crowley, Louisiana (2005)

[a-twistedheartslonging]

So about the non human au…

What kind of beasts would the staff be? I know you said Crowley would be a crow, but what about the rest? I kinda like to think that Vargas would be like a bear, and maybe Sam would be a fox. Or maybe Sam is a crow too…

OR MAYBE SAM IS A CHAMELEON

Changing colors to appear less shady so people will buy more?

Idk I just want him to be an beast that is kinda shady and not fully trustworthy

It would make sense for Vargas to be a big strong bear, be kind of funny if he was a tiger tho cuz that gets me thinking of him being like Tony the Tiger who is also often shown as being a coach. Perhaps a big bull? Crewel being a doggy and Trien being a cat would make sense but it's too easy....bobcat or maybe linx Trien?

Chameleon Sam would be a menis.

Animals I could also see Sam being include:

Louisiana Pine Snake

Gray Fox

Great Horned Owl

[starlight-n-shit]

I've started a list of random out of context pictures that say "crowley" on them

Crowley high school

Crowley boat

Another crowley boat

Crowley wine

Crowley, Louisiana

Feel free to add if you have something. I might add more later idk

[federer7]

Farmer at National Rice Festival taking a rest, Crowley, Louisiana, 1938

Photo by Russell Lee for Farm Security Administration