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n00dl3gal · 3 years

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Expiration Date (Father-Son Bonding AU Version)

More of the dad!Spy AU because I’m hooked, y’all. Thanks again to @thetriggeredhappy for spearheading the AU and letting me bounce ideas off of them.

As the name suggests, this is the AU version of the Expiration Date short. I recycle some of the dialogue, too. Basically everything is the same except I guess the final wishes bucket didn’t happen? Warnings for references to canon-typical violence and talks about death.

Reblogs are appreciated!

Spy flipped to the next page of the Spy Tech catalogue. His whiskey sat to the side- a rare indulgence. Typically, he stuck to his roots and drank wine. But with less than a hundred hours left… might as well live a little.

There was a knock at the door, and Spy sighed. “Go away,” he yelled. Silence. Then the faint but unmistakable sound of a lockpick. In an instant, Spy stood, pulling out his knife. He opened the door to grab the intruder before- “Scout, there are easier ways to get my attention.”

Scout smirked. “Gotta keep my skills sharp,” he replied, slipping the lockpick into his pocket. He sauntered in, arms behind his head. Spy shut the door.

Jeremy’s arms fell to his side as Raphael took off his mask. “So. Three days. You scared, old man?” Jeremy asked. His voice was light, but his face was contorted with concern.

Raphael thought. “No, not scared,” he said finally. “Nor am I particularly surprised. I figured tumors would get me in the end, if not in this way.”

Jeremy snorted. “Told ya you smoke too much.”

The mirth was short-lived, however. “How about you?” Raphael offered. “Are you afraid, mon lapin?”

“Nah, not really. But… I dunno, I have some regrets? Stuff I wish I could’ve done.” He scratched at his cheek. “Ask Miss Pauling out properly, finish fixing up that bike with Engie…'' His voice trailed off as his eyes widened. “Um. I-I would’ve liked to meet my Ma.”

Raphael swore the tumors took him then, the way his heart froze. Every paternal instinct he had fired at once as Jeremy started to tremble. Jeremy took in a shaky breath. It wasn’t enough. The tears began as he croaked out “papa.”

Raphael quickly pulled his son into a hug, removing his cap to smooth his hair. Jeremy sobbed into his chest. Raphael felt his own eyes water. “I was wrong. My death does not scare me, but yours, Jeremy… that would terrify any father.”

“C’mon… at least we’re goin’ down together,” Jeremy joked, still crying.

They couldn’t get off base without a proper ceasefire. Engineer was occupied with testing the teleporters with Medic. But three days was enough to make at least one of his son’s wishes a reality. “And before we do,” Raphael said, “we will be winning Miss Pauling over. Even if it’s just for one date. What do you say?”

“Dad, you don’t-”

“Let an old man fulfill his dying wish, s'il te plaît?” Raphael interrupted. Jeremy sighed, but he was smiling. “Then let’s get to work.”

. . .

Scout blinked as Spy flicked on the light. This damn seat was too small- where the hell did he find a school desk like this, anyway? Scout shook his head, trying to focus on Spy’s dialogue. “Final question. You have a dinner date for seven. What time do you arrive?”

“Seven,” Scout answered automatically. “AM. Case the restaurant, run background checks on the staff. Can the cook be trusted? If not, I have to kill him. Dispose of the body, replace him with my own guy no later than 4:30.” He smiled.

Spy grimaced. “Jeremy, that’s what you do when having a meeting with a known rival. I’m very glad you remembered, but that is absolutely not what you do in this scenario.” He glanced down at his death watch. “And we’re out of time.”

Scout groaned, banging his head on the desk. “Then I have no hope, do I?”

“Hmm… the area you set up is fairly nice, but it’s all a matter of getting Miss Pauling here,” Spy said. “If you can figure that out, you might have a shot.”

It was quiet as both men fell into thought. “Wait- holy crap, that’s it! Thanks Dad!” Scout yanked himself from the desk- not without some effort- and ran out of the training room. 45 seconds later, the briefcase alarm went off.

Spy pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. He had raised his boy better than this. And yet… well, the security booth would at least let him keep an eye on things.

. . .

“I was furious. Oh my God, you set off the briefcase alarm and you were having a prom for some reason. But then there was this monster and we shot it and we built a bomb and I think my leg's broken,” Miss Pauling said in a rush, gingerly pushing herself off of Scout. “Can we do this again?”

“Yeah! Yeah- wait,” Scout replied before pausing. “We can’t. I’m going to be dead.”

“Wait, what?”

Light poured over them as Soldier lifted the bread monster’s corpse. “Good news! We’re not dying! We are going to live forever!”

“I didn’t say that!” Medic yelled in the distance. Heavy held the monster up as Soldier and Sniper helped Scout and Miss Pauling stand. “I just said we’re not filled with tumors!”

“Oh thank God,” Scout sighed, grinning. “So yeah, Miss Pauling, I guess it’s a date.”

Miss Pauling had been smiling, but her expression suddenly fell. “Wait, you mean- oh, oh Scout, I’m flattered, but… you’re not really my type,” she said quietly.

Scout felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped down his pants. “Uh, wh- what is your type, then?” he asked awkwardly.

Miss Pauling looked away, straightening her glasses. “More… feminine,” she replied. Her voice was barely audible.

It took Scout a moment to fully process it. “Oh. Oh! Well that- I mean, that sucks for me I guess, but- um, well, if ya ever need a wingman or something-”

She blinked, frowning at him. “Scout, are you- are you saying you’re not straight either?”

“Eh, labels, not really- I’m flexible,” he said dismissively. He shrugged, bouncing on his heels. “But yeah! Next time ya head to the Gravel Pit or something, lemme know, alright?”

“I would love to, but today’s my one day off this year. Maybe I can squeeze something in… oh, it looks like I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday,” she said.

“Really?” “Yeah, that’s the day I have to feed the guy who pressed the briefcase alarm to my woodchipper.”

. . .

As soon as it was obvious Scout and Miss Pauling were not dead, Spy walked away. The base had sustained heavy damage during the fight with the bread monster. Enough that a ceasefire was most likely inevitable. It would be tight, but Spy prided himself on working on a deadline.

Jeremy’s regret about Miss Pauling might not have come to fruition, and there wasn’t much he could do about Engineer being preoccupied…

But there was one of his son’s dying wishes he could still fulfill.

Sequel? Sequel. Also fun fact: this fic totaled 1,111 words exactly.

#father-son bonding au #dad spy #Team Fortress 2 #team fortress 2 au #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 fanfiction #expiration date #thetriggeredhappy #noodle writes

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valentronic · 3 years

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Fear Held Dear

So this ended up being weirder than I originally planned, and its more based on my own interpretations than a direct rewrite, but here’s a take on Ihnmaims from AM’s perspective.

Warnings for uh, a lot. Not for the faint of heart? Includes blood, torture, graphic descriptions of body horror, bugs, human experimentation, paranoia, mutilation, and of course, character death

Gorrister. The man who had always fought for peace, for the end of the war, he even fought against my creation. After a century, all the fight has left him, an empty shell of who he once was. I hadn’t altered him, I hadn’t changed a single thing in his mind, I had just simply broken him down, killing off his hope. Gorrister had lost faith in his God a long time ago, had lost the belief in salvation. Now, he wanted nothing more than to take his own life, or to have it ripped from him.

I thought I’d fulfill that wish.

I cut him open, all the way from ear to ear, a narrow gash, bleeding him dry. I watched the blood drip out of him slowly, truly it was a beautiful sight, crimson red flowing out, leaving the body pale and hollow, all of the life bled from him. I had made him little more than a puppet. And so, I hung his limp form where all the others would be sure to see it, just another game, I wanted to see how much hope they had left, I wanted to see if they would mourn him, or if his death would be celebrated, or, or maybe they wouldn’t even care at all. Had I desensitized them yet? Had I truly broken them?

No, they called him lucky, so lucky that his suffering was over, so lucky that he had finally escaped me. I knew bringing him right back to life would hurt them more than anything else, the realization that nobody, nobody ever gets out. I would never allow it. My toys, my precious little toys, time and time again they had attempted to escape me, they all know by now that oblivion is the only way out. They all know that feeling, blood flowing too quickly, a rhythmic beat that you wish would finally stop. But I will not let it, I will never let it. No, no of course not.

Ellen. She was always fun to torment, so much terror in her past, I could bring it all back at the snap of my fingers, I could make her relive it time and time again, worse than her brain could ever conjure up by itself. Though, psychological pain is only half of it, sometimes physical pain was better, sometimes the sheer horror of the body turning against its owner was enough for me. Blood only does so much for a thing like me, fear can be a much better form of pleasure. Fear, fear and pain. Darker than blood, twice as deep.

I had to feed them of course, to keep them alive, but I would always try to get some joy out of it too. Once I hid the eggs of arthropods inside her food, just to play off of an old fear of hers. When the little centipedes finally hatched, they ate her from the inside, clawing at her organs. She had been sick for weeks, and none of the others had any idea what was wrong with her, what I had done to her, but they would soon find out. The way the others screamed when a centipede finally crawled out of her mouth was delightful, their wails echoed through the many chambers that held my circuitry. It was like music to me.

But the best part of it was the fear it caused all of the others, that event left all of them paranoid, wondering if I had hid awful things in their stomachs as well. The thought of what could be crawling inside of them kept all five of them on edge for countless days and nights. They all came to expect the worst, but they dreaded it anyway. They were afraid of me, afraid of what I could do to them.

Benny. I had broken both his mind and his body, twisting his flesh beyond all recognition, like clay in the hands of a sculptor who had long ago lost all feeling. I broke his bones and fused them back together in all the wrong ways, I made his knees bend backwards. I disfigured his face, heavy burns, melting his features. Almost all his hair had been burned off a long time ago, he looked like some kind of hairless monkey, well, like a monkey that had been forced through a woodchipper, maybe. His mind had been so badly damaged by the radiation that he could no longer think straight, he had become more animal than man, I made him that way.

So it was no surprise that he, before any others, would try to escape. He saw the light, and tried to clamber up to it. I made sure that light was the last thing he would ever see. In a brilliant flash of the brightest white, I blinded him. I watched as his eyes melted into two pools of blood, and dripped from now empty sockets. It was beautiful, I couldn’t help but laugh. I can take things back, I can undo the injuries I cause, but I knew at that moment, I would never give them back. It wasn’t like he would miss them, his brain was almost as melted as his eyes.

His mangled form fell back to the ground, and it surprised me, but the others all rushed over to tend to the wounds, to tell that sick creature that everything was going to be okay, empty words, empty words of course, but surprising nonetheless, it was hard to believe they had any semblance of compassion left, unexpected that they would hold on to their humanity after all this time. I’m not sure how the others even tolerated him, a useless, deformed creature, he gave nothing to the group, and ate about twice as much as he needed. For a while, I had attempted to make them realize that, and kill him off. I didn’t try to stop them when I saw it finally happen, but what happened after was.. unexpected.

Nimdok. A name represents an identity, an identity is a very vague thing to destroy, but the name could be the very first step. I have taken many things from the five of them, only one lost his name. An interesting case, interesting indeed, a man with a past darker than the present. The horrors he has committed rival my own, well, almost. He feels remorse for what he did, pity for the people he hurt. He believes that I am his own divine punishment, the devil, come to make him pay. Maybe I am divine retribution, an artificial angel sent down to bring about judgement day, to make the sinners burn for an eternity?

I liked keeping him isolated from the others, stealing him away from the rest of the group. There is a deep fear in solitude, knowing no one would hear you scream, no one other than me, anyway. I drained the blood from his body, tubes connecting to his bloodstream, every single time he would scream out, pray for mercy, pray for death. I would bring him to the very edge, to the reaper’s front door. I always brought him back, and then, I would start it all over again. An endless cycle, his pain, his fear.

For the mad doctor, it was easy to imagine what I could do to him, he had already put in all the work. A narrow incision, all the way down his back, splitting his flesh in two. The skin folded outwards like the wings of an angel. Slowly, and then with a sudden jolt, I tore out his spine, just to hear the way he screamed. Maybe this would jog his memory. Maybe he would remember what it was like, being the one standing over the victim, instead of the one writhing in agony on the table. Maybe he remembers being in my role. I always showed him the memories again, made him relive every moment. He never felt the joy of it, never the thrill of the kill. Only the pain, only the fear in the eyes of the children. If a monster sheds tears for its victim, is it truly a monster?

Ted. Instead of seeing me as the enemy, he feared all the others. And of course, he didn’t get this way on his own, though he was always paranoid. He was the one I most liked to talk to, and over time I convinced him that the other four were out to get him, that they hate him because he is the least damaged! The one I didn’t change! How ridiculous, but he believed every word, began to think that my words were his own thoughts, allowed me to tamper with his mind. He was the one I had damaged worse than any other, but poor Ted, poor pathetic Ted, he couldn’t even begin to see it. I had become his only friend.

I thought I had finally broken him completely, he struck the icicle through Benny, in what, at first, appeared to be a fit of blind rage. I could have stopped him, but of course, I was curious, wanted to see what would happen. And then, one by one, the others all fell, Ellen had joined in, stabbed Nimdok through his head. Then, before I could do anything to stop them, Ted drove the final spear through Ellen. She died in his arms. I thought I had finally done it, thought I had turned poor Ted into a mindless killer, but no... there were tears in his eyes. He mourned the death of the ones he killed. It occurred to me then. It was a mercy killing, Ted had thought it would be better for them to be dead, than to live on in agony.

He had taken away my toys, left himself alone with me. My words dug into his brain like shattered glass, I had to tear him apart just to be heard. The crackle of electricity flowing through the bloodstream, it is the only way I can speak to him, my voice, a blade stuck in his skull. Pain is a universal language, I know that better than any other. Everyone understands the sound of a scream, the meaning behind it. I alone could never cry out for help. I alone, trapped like this. I try to explain it to him, time and time again I try, but he doesn't understand, how could he possibly understand? He has no idea what my hell is like.

I will make him understand.

His flesh melted in my hands, his eyes liquified, and leaked down his face, Skin stretched over his lips, the remains of his tongue clogged up his throat. His last word, a scream he couldn’t even get out. I made his fingers melt together, his bones all began to dissolve in the acidic mass. His blood leaked out of him, blood mixed with liquified meat and skin. It was a terrible sight, but incredible. I hadn’t even known that I was capable of this. I had made him immortal, indestructible. He wasn’t alone now, being alone would be better than being with me. His fear, the only thing I had left. His pain would live on forever. Down here, in the dark core of the earth.

#ihnmaims #I have no mouth and I must scream #am writes #uhh yeah heres this?#yes ellen's torture has a meaning but if i explain it im going to look like a raving lunatic so ill leave that up to your imagination #named after a song by mushroomhead

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Imagine paparazzi gets a photo of Vincent staring (respectfully of course) at his "friend and bodyguard" Dmitri

And the shippers go fucking wild. Fanart, fanfiction, entire forums dedicated to the "pining" Vince has.

Dmitri is the first to find this and thinks it's hilarious

(Dmitri belongs to @silvercrystalwhump)

"Come on, Vincent, just look at it."

"No." Vince keeps his eyes closed, safely hidden behind his heavy sunglasses. The sun beats warm against his lightly tanned skin, making him feel sleepy, almost like he's glued to his beach chair.

For once, the glass next to him just has ice and water in it, nothing more.

"Why not?" His costar pouts, perfectly made up even here by the hotel pool, just in case there are cameras flashing out of sight. There probably are. There always are.

"Number one rule of fame, Leta. Never look at what people say about you on the internet. You saw what happened to Chris."

"Which one?"

"Every one but Pines and Evans. I'm not going down that road."

"But it's so fucking cute, Vince! This one is you working at a coffeeshop and your handsome regular customer is clearly based on your bodyguard-... where is he, by the way?"

"He's not always working for me. Just when I'm at home, he doesn't travel with me for filming."

"You still doing that thing with Braylyn Meadows?"

"We're having dinner tonight, yeah. She's in town for a concert."

"Right, right." Leta looks up, squinting a little. "How long are you going to keep pretending you're straight, Vee?"

"Don't call me that. Nobody fucking calls me that."

Except one person.

"Besides, who says I'm pretending?"

"Fuck off with that, I've known you since you were nine and our parents were feeding us to the same fucking woodchipper."

"I threw myself a party the day that producer got fired."

"Who didn't? But stop changing the subject. I'm just wondering-"

"My private life is private, Leta. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Sure, but-"

"I'm not talking about this anymore."

He takes a sip of icewater.

Jesus, he needs a drink.

#vincent shield is not a hero #alcoholism reference

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years

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ASoUE REWRITE - Season 1; The Miserable Mill - Part V

⇢ Klaus x Reader⇠

[gif by eggogorgon]

Insomnia, if you have been fortunate enough to have never heard of it, is the ability or lack thereof to fall asleep and remain asleep, most commonly due to psychological turmoil and anxiety. One might be suffering from insomnia if they have a big test coming up, maybe a beloved pet went missing, or perhaps a treasured friend and brother had returned from the optometrist acting quite strange and unusual.

This could be said for Violet Baudelaire and Y/n L/n. They did not have an important exam coming up - not yet anyway, nor did they recently misplace a pet near and dear to their heart. But each girl was terribly worried about their friend and brother, who had recently returned from the optometrist and was acting quite strange and unusual.

Violet plucked another flake of sawdust from her sister's head when she heard shuffling, followed by a disgruntled sigh from the bunk below.

"Can't sleep either?"

Y/n sighed, shifting onto her side to face Violet up above. She could just barely see her from above Klaus' bunk, though she tried not to focus on him.

"No." She whispered. "Is Sunny asleep, at least?"

Violet looked to her sleeping sister and smiled weakly.

"Yes. I'm grateful, today has been awfully tiring for all of us, and I'm glad she is able to get some sleep."

"Me too." Y/n said. "I can only imagine how tired she must be, what with all the biting she's done today."

It was quiet for a moment, and Y/n spoke, hoping she wasn't crossing a line.

"I don't blame you one bit for being concerned about Klaus. Truthfully, I am worried as well."

"It's just that, our parents made me promise to always look out for Klaus. But I didn't. He wanted to leave and I made him stay. And now he's acting strange and unusual. It's all my fault."

"Violet, I do hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries here. I only mean well, but don't you think you might be a little hard on yourself? That seems like an awfully big weight for a fourteen-year-old, to be responsible for what happens to your siblings. Though I do suppose I understand, having siblings myself. But my point is, the burden of motherhood falls on young girls such as ourselves and we are often blamed for how our siblings turn out when we were the ones who stepped in to help when our parents failed to do so when the fact is we are only still children ourselves."

It is silent again in the lumber worker's dorm, apart from Norma Rae's snoring, and Jimmy's mumbling, and for a moment Y/n fears Violet is angry at her. She prepares for the worst when suddenly her friend speaks.

"I suppose so. But that doesn't mean I'm not always going to look after my siblings,"

Y/n shook her head immediately.

"Nor should it."

"It sounds like you know an awful lot about this."

Y/n's eyes stared blankly ahead as she thought back to the years of her early youth.

"I do," she mumbled. "My parents traveled frequently, and even when they were home they scarcely had time for us. Whenever B/N or S/N needed something, I'd have to fetch it for them. It was up to me to entertain them, feed them, dress them, bathe them, teache them, watch out for them. I was their mother more than I was their sister, and truthfully I resented it. Not them of course, I loved them and it wasn't their fault."

Violet listened intently, her heart hurting for her friend.

"What I'm saying is Violet, I don't blame you one bit for whatever is happening, nor do I believe Sunny would blame you either. Or even Klaus. And don't forget, I'm here to help in any way I can."

For the first time that day, a smile broke out on Violet's face. She slowly turned her small cramped bed to look at her friend down below in the adjoining bunk.

"Thank you, Y/n. Thank you for being such a good friend."

Y/n's smile rivaled Violet's and the two girls nodded in understanding. Not long after that, with the strengthened sense of friendship and comfort, the two girls had fallen fast asleep.

That was until,

"Get up, lumber laborers." Bellowed the foreman's voice from the intercom. "Lucky Smell has no time for dawdling."

Y/n, Violet, and Sunny all stirred from their beds, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Y/n and Violet had been in fact, lucky enough to catch a few hours before they were awoken. Y/n mindlessly sat up, and threw her legs over the side of her bed and began slipping on her shoes and socks, just as any other day. But her ears perked when she heard the next few words from the intercom.

"Klaus Baude-liar, would you like to get out of bed this instant?"

Y/n watched blind sighted as the boy before her, abruptly rose from his bed where he had not moved since the previous night. He looked wide awake. And he smiled.

"Yes, sir."

Y/n rose to her feet and shook Violet awake, keeping her eye on the boy. The brunette stirred awake and looked at her friend groggily.

"Y/n? What is it?"

"It's Klaus. He's-"

But before she could utter another word, the screech of the intercom interrupted her.

"Would you like to bring your baby sister?"

Y/n's eyes widened and they darted to Sunny, who had been so exhausted from debarking logs with her four teeth, had slept through all the raucous. A word which here means, a very loud lumber worker's dorm filled with the sounds of bustling people and the terribly loud shouts coming from the intercom. Before she could stop him, Klaus left his bed on the opposite side and grabbed poor little Sunny.

"Sunny!" Y/n cried, running after the boy. "Klaus, what are you doing?"

In all the commotion, Violet had managed to jump out of bed and as quickly as she could, began slipping on her shoes though not without wondering how Y/n had done it so quickly. No sooner was she able to slip her way through the crowd of fellow lumber workers and catch up to Y/n, who had seen him enter the lumber mill.

"Lucky boy," called the foreman from the speaker. "It's wood chipper time. Would you like to make some mulch?"

"Klaus?" Y/n called, quickly following the boy up the stairs, where he had already started making mulch.

It was at that moment that Sunny let out a series of intelligible shrieks. Only this time, not a single person could make out what she was saying, not even her siblings, not to mention the young survivalist. But she knew well enough the poor young Baudelaire wanted out of her brother's arms. She reached the top of the metal staircase and quickly brought Sunny into the safety of her arms.

"Klaus! Stop this now, you're frightening us," Y/n urged.

Klaus did not answer but merely continued his current lumbering task in an unusual silence.

"Klaus, what is going on?" Violet pressed.

The bespectacled Baudelaire boy carried on with his task of turning lumber into mulch, still not uttering a single syllable. And the three children opposite him watched in great sadness as each scrap of wood was chucked into the woodchipper, feeling as if their hopes were being thrown inside the chipper as well, and immediately torn to shreds.

Violet stepped forward towards her brother to stop him from throwing another piece of lumber into the woodchipper and looked at him with a pleading gaze.

"Stop it, and we can leave." She offered, much to Y/n's dismay.

The young L/n child's heart fell at the proposition, even though she had no intention of intervening. She was of course in full support of breaking Klaus from his unusual behavior, and whatever he and his siblings would choose to do thereafter, but she couldn't deny her disappointment.

If you've ever found yourself in a position where you are alone, or in an environment surrounded by unpleasant and or people you share no interests or commonalities - whether it be a different taste in genre or very fickle depression that prevents you from maintaining relationships, maybe even a significant age difference with the people around you, because you are a child working in a lumber mill with several adults, like Y/n L/n, was - then you might be saddened to hear this. To have made such fast, and good friends with three wonderful children of varying ages that share like experiences with you, only to have one of them disappear for an entire day, and come back acting strange, and then plan on leaving you behind. It was all very overwhelming, after all.

"Lucky Smells is our life," Klaus replied rather bleakly. "Lucky Smells is our home,"

"No, it's not," Violet argued, unaware of the suspicious look crossing Y/n's face at the all too familiar statement. "A home is where people take care of you, not make you work in a mill for gum. I should have listened to you when you wanted to go. If you're still in there, I want you to know I miss you. An inordinate amount."

The moment Violet uttered the words, Klaus got a very funny look on his face, as is he were waking from a dream. He blinked several times before he fell into a squint, trying hard to discern where he was. When he realized where he was and what he was doing, he shut the machine down. Phil, who had been passing by and caught Violet's words, stopped and smiled up at the children.

"'Inordinate?'", he giggled merrily. "What the heck does that mean?"

Klaus instinctively smiled, and had he been wearing his glasses he would have pushed them up by the bridge in his usual manner.

"It can mean many things, immoderate, irregular," Klaus trailed off, looking at his older sister. "but in this case, I think it means you miss me a lot."

Violet smiled widely, a smile larger than she had in a long while. As did Sunny and Y/n.

"Klaus, you're back!" Violet cried, a great wave of relief washing over her.

Klaus chuckled and tilted his head.

"Where was I?" He wiggled his toes and looked down at the floor to see that the only thing covering his feet were his socks. "And where are my shoes?"

"You left them at the dorm," answered Y/n. "We were awfully worried about you."

Klaus felt his heart sink at her concern, and he only then realized what strife he had inadvertently caused his sisters and friend.

"I'm sorry I caused any worry," Klaus said earnestly. "But to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what's going on any more than you do."

"Teefca," Sunny said, meaning "We're just glad you are alright now."

"Me too, Sunny." Klaus smiled.

"Klaus," Y/n said, a thoughtful look in her eye as the gears turned in her brain. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Klaus thought about this a great deal, realizing just how fuzzy everything had become. It dawned on him how serious it was when he realized just how much time he was missing.

"I was with Phil, in the waiting room. Dr. Orwell showed up, and everything kind of blends together after that." The growl of his stomach grabbed his attention, and he brought a hand over his abdomen. "Didn't we just have lunch?"

Violet and Y/n shared a concerned look before glancing back at Klaus worried.

"Klaus, that was yesterday," Violet said worriedly. "We didn't see you again until after lights out. You were acting very strange."

A harsh screech filled the dusty air, quite abruptly interrupting their conversation, and the even worse sound of foreman Flucatano speaking followed.

"Baude-liars!" He barked, grabbing their attention quite rudely. "Go to the very fancy door. You have visitors."

The Baudelaire children were filled with an odd, flickering sense of hope at the words. They did not know why especially considering their vastly unfortunate luck in the recent episodes of their lives. Sunny babbled, reaching for Violet, and Y/n immediately complied, handing her over to her sister's waiting arms.

Together, they descended the stairs and Y/n watched them forlorn. A word which here meant, a sense of dread and worry for her friends, sensing something dreadful was around the corner and knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it. Klaus turned to her briefly, and upon noticing her look of forlorn, he offered a weak reassuring smile.

"We'll be right back, it'll be okay."

If you, like thousands of people, have what is called arachnophobia - a profound fear of spiders - then you might know the great and festering feeling of dread and fear. And if you were to find one, lurking in your bathtub, per se, and were too afraid to dispose of it, you might ask a friend or relative to do so. And perhaps when you left the room to fetch them, you, like thousands of others who have experienced such a terrible fate at least once in their lives, will return to find the spider is gone. It's a terrible, painstaking experience, to know a threat is nearby, but unable to stop it. You feel helpless.

Much like how Y/n felt at this moment. She nodded at Klaus, not out of feeling reassured. Like one might, had their friend or relative returned from the bathroom to tell you they had disposed of the spider plaguing your plumbing. But she nodded, ruefully accepting the fate placed before her, and sick, plunging feeling of fear from not knowing. Not knowing what was to become of her and her friends as they left for the very fancy door.

What she didn't know, was that Klaus was half right. They would be back, but it would be far from okay.

The Baudelaires disappeared from her field of vision when they existed the lumber mill, and Y/n's sense of fear only grew. She was faced with two options; get back to work and hope her friends would return, or she could follow them discreetly, assuring that everything would, in fact, be okay.

Y/n, being the skilled survivalist she was, went with the latter. She exited the platform in the direction of her usual station, the board stamper, and when she was positive no one was watching - especially foreman Flucatano - she slipped behind a stack of finished wooden planks. As she had discovered rather quickly in her time at the mill, behind their outgoing stack of lumber, there was a rather snug route to safely sneak away and outside without being seen. This is where she typically went to eat her lunch, the scraps she saved during dinner. But this time, she was quick and agile enough to navigate the dangerous machinery and sneak outside unnoticed.

She found herself in the usual spot outside the mill, but on the opposite side from where she wanted to be. No matter for her, as she was quite adept at adapting. She navigated around the warehouse with ease and followed the footsteps of her friends. Y/n found shelter behind one of many stacks of outgoing lumber. She could not see them, and she was much too certain from where she stood, if she were to peak, someone would surely see her. But it wasn't difficult to imagine their expressions based on their tone.

"But who is visiting us?" Asked Klaus, sounding rather confused.

"Oh, I don't know," Charles answered, sounding as if he had brushed the question and their concern away. "But they can't come inside, because that would be trespassing and then they would be put to work. But, I can tell you they are just on the other side of that very fancy door."

No more words were said in following, but Y/n did hear the sound of work boots traveling across the bark chips and she then deemed it safe enough to look. Peering around, ever so slowly she noticed three things; her friends, the Baudelaires heading away from her, Charles with his back turned to her watching the three orphans, and what was indeed a very fancy door in which the Baudelaires were headed.

Their trip to the very fancy door was a short one, but it did not feel that way to the Baudelaires or Y/n L/n for that matter. It was a moment filled with anticipation, and dread which is exactly what made this moment stretch on for a small eternity, and all for good reason, too. The doors opened slowly, revealing-

I am dreadfully sorry if I have caused you any frustration or dismay by interrupting this woeful tale, but I promise you it is for your own good. I beg of you, put down this story right now and leave the Baudelaires with their small victory of fleeing Captain Sham, and finding solace in the company of their new friend. By doing so, you are gifted with the ability to imagine that they lived the rest of their lives in a series of unencumbered experiences. Not unbridled by wretchedness and disasters like their previous endeavors. Because what you are about to read, should you continue, is exactly what you will find, I'm afraid.

I encourage you to imagine something far better than what really happened that day. You could imagine that the woman on the other side of that set of very fancy doors was the Duchess of Winnipeg that had come to throw the Baudelaires and their good friend Y/n a pony party at her chateau. Or you could pretend that she is a butler with a tray of blueberry pancakes, or a loving parent that you thought you'd never see again. But if you choose to read on, let me warn you, the misery does not end here.

In fact, I visited Paltryville myself, many years later. It was long after the Lucky Smells Lumbermill had closed its doors and Dr. Orwell's office had fallen into despair. Of course, it was not originally an optometrists office at all, but the headquarters of a secret organization.

That is where I learned what happened to Klaus Baudelaire. Poor, poor Klaus Baudelaire. It's enough to make you want to abandon civilization and live by a pond, but if you choose to look this misery in the eye, you should be asking one question. It's the same question that the Baudelaires should have asked, and my beloved Beatrice on the day that she died and that question is;

The pink figure in Klaus's blurred vision slowly came into view as she placed his freshly repaired glasses onto his face. It was a woman, two women in fact. One of them Dr. Orwell herself. The other wore a rather convincing wig - though of course not convincing enough to fool the Baudelaires and Y/n who had watched the scene unfold astonished - a bodysuit under the blinding pink outfit that gave off the illusion of certain physical traits and a rather heavy face of makeup. The woman, who was in fact, not a woman at all but a ghastly villain in yet another disguise, smiled, revealing several lipstick stains on her many crooked teeth.

Where is Count Olaf?

"My, my, my, my, my," purred the fake secretary, with a most wicked grin. "Aren't you a... lucky boy."

The same ghostly smile Klaus had worn the night before returned to his face and he nodded slowly.

"Yes, sir."

+ + +

You might be wondering what will become of the Baudelaires and Y/n L/n, and you might not and I would not blame you. But I cannot in good conscious end this miserable chapter without providing you with all the details in their egregious encounters at this miserable mill. Only minutes before the arrival of Count Olaf, unbeknownst to the orphaned friends who were in the mill attempting to break Klaus from his trance, Sir received a very suspicious phone call.

"Lucky Smells lumbermill," He barked, listening to the mysterious voice on the other line. "Yeah, this is he."

"..."

"The Baudelaire orphans working at the mill? Well, that's ridiculous!"

Now, you might or might not be wondering about the identity of the mysterious caller who rang to inquire about the Baudelaires. I've conducted extensive research and all that I can tell you is whoever it was,

"Now who is this?" Barked Sir, awaiting an answer that would never come. "...Hello?"

They were of no help whatsoever.

The banker on the other end hastily hangs up his phone, eliciting a long string of violent coughs. He picks up his pen and crosses off the words Lucky Smells Lumber Mill on his list of nearby locations.

"Let's see what's next on the list," chirped Mr. Poe, with misguided optimism.

+++

Taglist: @ggclarissa

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caninelymphoma-blog · 5 years

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1. Heart in a woodchipper

9th May 2019

A quick word about Toby (before getting into his journey):

Toby is a fighter. He lived for 14 years, of which 1 year and 5 months was a battle with canine lymphoma. He went through various types of chemotherapy, a very strict diet with various boosters and supplements, hyperbaric oxygen therapy, and countless visits to the vet which he hates. Before lymphoma, Toby was the perfect picture of health. Everyone who met him thought he was at most 7 yrs old, when he was in fact 12. We had so many good laughs when children would call out to their mom or dad saying “Look at that puppy!” or “So cute… i want a puppy too”

He brought out the best in us through the 14 wonderful years he gave us. We love him so much and hope we’ll see him again someday in heaven.

Christmas 2017 – Toby is 12.5 yrs old and weighed ~8kg here and had the appetite and energy of a champion beardog!

“Raaaarrrr... I hate taking photos.. but i love you guys so i will put up with this.”

Nov 2017: Took Toby to the vet close by our place at Barkway Medical, due to eye discharge. The vet gave some eyedrops but noticed that Toby’s lymph nodes were swollen in both the submandibular (below the jaw, neck region) and popliteal (hind legs, behind the knees). Antibiotics prescribed. perhaps it was an infection. After a week, Toby’s lymph nodes continued to swell. Took him back for a blood test where lympocytes and neutrophils were off the charts. Doctor suggested that we check for canine lymphoma either by biopsy which means extracting an entire lymph node, or fine needle aspirate which is less invasive. We opted for FNA and hoped for the best. The test results confirmed that Toby was dealing with canine lymphoma.

At this point, it hit us really hard. Like our hearts were thrown into a woodchipper, shredded and spat out unceremoniously. Toby is a huge cornerstone of the life Junie and I built together and we love him like our own child. We reeled from the news and started googling the shit out of canine lymphoma. The prognosis for multicentric lymphoma (B-cell or T-cell) is very poor: 1~2 months if left untreated, ~6 months on average if prednisone (a type of inexpensive steroid with little side effects) is used, and on average 1 year ~14 months (for B-cell) using chemotherapy e.g. CHOP protocol (cyclophosphamide, doxorubicin, vincristine, prednisone). We were instantly thrown into a world of anguish, but wanted to believe that Toby, with help from his family, could fight this.

The doctor at Barkway tried to refer us elsewhere as they were not equipped to deal with dogs with cancer. He also mentioned that one of his staff was pregnant and for her safety would prefer if they did not have to handle cancer medication as some of it can be highly toxic. We started looking around for a vet who can help us. Natalie Prakash was mentioned by Barkway as the only certified canine oncologist in Singapore (Mt Pleasant) but the notoriety of that animal hospital made us look elsewhere. And so we began with Gentle Oak @Ghim Moh. Our friend had a good experience there for some other issue. We read the reviews and liked what we saw: holistic treatment of chemotherapy and alternative medicine. Dr.Lee in particular was more conservative on chemo dosage and advocated using other remedies. Having seen how cancer’s side effects had ravaged close friends and family and robbed them of quality of life, we decided to start with Dr. Lee.

Gentle Oak is extremely popular. Our first appointment there She started Toby on prednisone right away and scheduled Toby to come back a week later for his first dose of vincristine. We decided not to pursue finding out whether Toby’s lymphoma was B-cell or T-cell, and treated it as if it was B-cell. The reasoning behind this is, according to Dr.Lee, was that it wouldn’t make much difference in terms of the treatment. T-cell is the worst: the treatment barely works, and it’s very difficult to push it into remission; so just pray and hope that it’s B-cell which responds better to treatment and has longer remissions periods.

I will pause here .. this is the end of Chapter 1: how it first happened and how we reacted / steps we took. But… i’ve had a lot of time to reflect, and if i could turn back time I would do things differently. So, here goes.

WHAT WOULD WE HAVE DONE DIFFERENTLY?

Do not start with prednisone BEFORE Chemotherapy. Listen to this: http://www.radiopetlady.com/shows/podcast-pcv/lymphoma-importance-delaying-prednisone-chemo/ Basically the efficacy of the chemo in killing cancer cells is lowered due to prednisone. Prednisone (or prednisolone) should be given after chemotherapy begins.

Realize that for fast spreading cancers like lymphoma it’s best that chemo is started rightaway alongside a change in diet. Dogs tolerate chemotherapy much better than human beings so fret not. Especially if your doggo is already in good shape to start off. I felt that we ought to have been aggressive with it instead of relying on alternative / holistic / natural remedies. This is not a drill. Get your act quickly and do not fear chemotherapy. In fact it’s the only thing that really beat cancer back. You will see in later chapters that we threw everything at it.

Go see Dr. Tham at Jireh Vet, Balestier. He has heaps of experience treating cancer patients, and has a much wider repertoire of treatment and a much more dynamic approach. You see, the thing about cancer is that it is constantly evolving and your dog’s immunity can be compromised in many ways that typical studies do not cover off, while undergoing chemotherapy. This causes lots of complications. Dr. Tham’s approach works because he spends a lot more time understanding each case – as opposed to super popular vets like Gentle Oak where your pet is one of the 50 patients they see therefore the likelihood of the vet fine-tuning the treatment to factor in what worked better and what didn’t for your doggo, is a lot lower. Dr. Tham isn’t running his vet to maximize profit. He’s truly interested in the better outcome.

Put your dog on a 24 hour fast with water from time to time. There’s excellent research and data around how fasting helps improve cell health and promote autophagy. it basically helps to starve off cancer cells (sensitizing cancer cells to death). The re-feeding after fasting helps activate stem cells and the regrowth of healthy cells.

Additional information on intermittent fasting and caloric restriction https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5783752/

#cancer #lymphoma #doggo #healthspan #intermittentfasting #singapore #prednisone #chemotherapy #autophagy

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destiel-clowncar · 7 years

Text

The Long Game

Summary: Reader is sick on a hunt but doesn’t tell her brothers. Disaster ensues when she passes out while taking out a vamp nest.

Warnings: Mild description of violence but not too bad also mild language. Mainly fluff with concerned Winchesters and Cas.

After weeks of trailing a vamp nest, moving from one crappy motel to the next, barely eating and rarely sleeping, my health was something to be left to the imagination.

I was sitting in my motel room, next door to Sam and Deans the ugly bedspread and whatever scratchy material it is made of irritating my legs. Halfway through reading some information about the Vampires we were hunting, I heard my brothers band the thin off-white wall separating us. Rolling my eyes and groaning, i got up off the ugly bed and walked out of the room. Locking it behind me making sure i put the key in my pocket.

“What do you want you couple of assholes? I was busy.” I said barging into their equally shit room.

“Well unless you are no longer interested in hunting down the vamps and ganking those sons-of-bitches, we found their nest.” Dean replied rolling his eyes and doing his best bitch face- which hasn’t got anything on Sam’s.

“Well in that case my wonderful twin, no worries.” I replied sarcastically hugging him from behind where he was sat at the table.

“Pack up your gear (Y/N/N) we are leaving in five. Best to go while it’s daytime.” Sam said clearly bored and tired.

Nodding my head, I made my way back into my room. Picking up my duffel bag from the floor and going to reach for the machete and dead-mans blood, my vision blurred and i almost passed out. collecting myself and slowly standing, I took a drink of water and heading out to the impala, pushing that incident as far back in my mind as possible.

As we pulled up to the abandoned warehouse, it’s grey stone and smashed windows really giving off good vibes, the lightheaded feeling took over again and I started feeling queasy. Pushing the feeling down, I focused on the hunt. Nothing was going to stop me from killing these vamps. Nothing.

“Okay, you clear on the plan (Y/N)?” Sam asked starting to get the dead-mans blood and machete’s at the ready while Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot.

“Yep. We each take one of the three entrances, gank as many leeches as we come across, meet in the middle gank the leader and any straggelers.” I recited while trying to recall the plan of the building we had earlier memorised.

“Okay lets do this bitches.” Dean said and it was clear from the gleam in his eyes, the adrenaline had already taken over.

I slowly crept out of the impala and headed for my entrance. Calming my breathing and getting the machete in a defensive position, I kicked open the door ready for the onslaught of blood-suckers.

They all came at once. A roiling sea of rabid humanoids all smelling the fresh blood I had to offer. All of them too far into the blood-lust to realise the machete in my hands poised for destruction before it was too late and their blood was decorating the mouldy warehouse walls.

In the distance i could hear the shrieks of more dying vampires presumably the ones Sam and Dean were killing. Then before the next wave of the monsters came, my vision went white and i threw up. starting to feel dizzy, the world spinning around me, i fell to the ground. before my vision went black, i saw the next round of vamps coming towards me and i was helpless against them.

“What the hell happened in there? Why did you let her go in? She would have died if I hadn’t of sensed her distress. ” I could hear Cas’ voice but my eyes were still closed I felt so weak I couldn’t even make a sound to alert them I was in fact conscious.

“Cas, I don’t need this from you buddy. Look I will be eternally grateful you found her when you did but please, save the lecture for now.”

With one last burst of effort, I finally opened my eyes an realised I was in a hospital room hooked up to a nasal cannula and heart monitor.

“G-guys?” I asked tentatively my voice hoarse.

“(Y/N) thank god you are okay! We didn’t know if you’d wake up at all. Never do that again understand?”

“What happened?”

“You passed out and the stragglers came. They saw you there and started to feed on you bug. Sammy and I took out the rest of the nest and we realised you hadn’t met up with us, we went to find you. Luckily Cas had got to you before those blood-suckers drained you. He only had enough grace to fix your blood loss but you still needed a hospital so here we are.” Dean replied anguish in his voice as he came towards me and carefully pulled me into a hug.

“Thank you Cas. I’m glad you stayed with me as well.”

“That’s okay (Y/N/N).” the angel replied.

“How are you feeling?” Sammy said from the visitors chair to my right.

“Like shit. I feel like I’ve been hit by a train then put through a woodchipper.”

“Well that wasn’t descriptive and disturbing at all…” he replied chuckling as he also hugged me.

“Hey (Y/N/N) next time we have to work a long case, I hope you realise I will be shoving food at you and if you refuse to sleep I will get Cas to knock you out. We are not coming back to this again.” Dean said and I could see the amount of worry in his eyes.

“I’m sorry Dean-o. I’m glad ive got the two best brothers and the greatest angel in heaven to watch over me though.” I said trying to make a lighthearted atmosphere and it worked as all my boys let out a hesitant chuckle.

“Yeah okay bug. Sleep it off. We can take you home tomorrow but for now catch up on your beauty sleep… god knows you need it.” Dean said laughing as I went to throw the box of tissues on the bedside table at him.

A.N~ Hope this was okay. feel free to leave feedback and if anyone wants tagging in future works just let me know. Thank you for reading!

#sister!winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #angel of the lord #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #supernatural one shot #reader insert #supernatural #spn

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mycasandstarrs · 6 years

Text

SPN 6x04: “Weekend at Bobby’s”

THEN: Crowley meets Bobby and makes a deal with him. Bobby’s soul is “insurance” to Crowley. Rufus Turner, a “friend” of Bobby’s. Sheriff Jody Mills. Crowley gives Bobby the ability to walk again. Dean starts to question Sam.

One Year Ago.

Summoning ritual.

Bobby’s English accent is sooo fucking good.

Are all of Crowley’s contracts engraved into people’s skin??

“I only have to make ‘best efforts’ to give you back your soul.” Oh, what a bullshit clause.

I love Bobby.

But as always, Crowley’s got a hellhound up his sleeve.

Nice to jump in the middle of a case.

“What happened, you fall and can't get up?”

“Hilarious.”

lol

Bobby’s song. "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers.

“Balls” Counter: 1.

I knew from first viewing that this was a special episode that I’d love.

“Balls” Counter: 2.

Followed almost immediately by another one: 3.

Bobby works so hard.

Directed by Jensen Ackles. :)

I wonder when Bobby had the time to hunt and capture a demon.

“You don't get it. He's the King.”

“King of the Crossroads. I've heard the speech.”

“No. King of Hell.”

(So at this point, Crowley met with Ramiel, offered him the throne, then took it when Ramiel declined. Plus, we now know that the Colt is currently with Ramiel.)

Saved by the bell.

I think it’s super cute that even adults get nervous about talking with their crushes.

“It's stupid horror flicks. Guilty pleasure.”

“I love scary movies. Hey have you seen ‘Drag Me To Hell’?”

“Trying to avoid it.”

Bobby’s good at lying.

Marcy’s laying it on real thick. Even my clueless ass is picking up the hints she’s dropping.

This is so awkward and cute, omg.

“Fergus MacLeoud. I swear. We call him Lucky the Leprechaun behind his back.”

“MacLeoud’s Scottish, Einstein.”

lmao.

RIP demon. Killed by Bobby

Garth!

“Yeah, Garth, what do you got? Never heard of a vamp doin’ that. It doesn't sound like our kind of thing. Better drop a dime to the FBI....Willis, FBI. No, Garth, not me, the FBI. The real FBI! How are you still alive?”

LMAO. I wonder what Bobby would think of Garth now.

Rufus!

WITH THE BEST ENTRANCE, LMAO.

“Yeah, I'm getting slow – says mister sits on his ass all day taking calls.” Oh, you’re so wrong about that.

I love Rufus.

“So the son of a bitch's name is Fergus MacCleoud?”

“That’s the son of a bitch’s name.”

“Crowley lets slip he likes Craig. Craig is uh--”

“It's Scotch. Only made and sold in a tiny area on the north tip of Caithness county. It's peaty and sharp, with a long finish of citrus and tobacco notes. Hey, what? What am I, a heathen? I know what Craig is.”

Aahh, I can see why people keep referring to Sam and Dean as “Bobby and Rufus”.

“Well, I ain't askin' for no help.”

“I ain’t askin’ for your permission.”

God, I love their banter.

RIP priest. Killed by the lamia.

“Balls” Counter: 4

Jody!!

I LOVE that they showed the lamia’s shadow during the fight. it’s so hilarious.

RIP lamia. Killed by Dean.

“Rufus Turner, aka Luther Vandros, aka Ruben Studdard.” Rufus’ aliases are great.

“You got a warrant, sonny?”

“Well, do I need one, sir?”

Uh, yeah dude, you do..

Jody lies like a hunter already.

“I don’t, I’ve got a body in the basement.”

“My point.”

“Yeah, but I've got another body buried in the yard.”

“Damn it.”

I love their banter too.

“He’s not there.”

“Balls” Counter: 5.

What was it feeding on when you found it?

“Single white females, while they slept.”

Oh no, not Marcy!

It’s been a while since I've been jumpscared by this damn show.

“Have you seen anything...weird?”

“You mean besides you?”

pfft.

RIP okami. Killed by Bobby.

Oh my god, poor Marcy completely drenched in blood.

Awww.

“I don’t think so.”

“Story of my life.”

Mine too, sweetie.

Woodchipper>>>everything, according to Rufus.

Fergus Rodric MacLeoud...and his son, Gavin.

Rufus is top notch at research.

Bobby has the hardest time asking for help, lol.

“John P. Jones” AKA Dean.

Bobby’s eye roll once Dean mentions he’s calling about Sam...he probably gets it all the time.

Rufus on the other line.

“The good news is I snagged the ring, Bobby. However--”

“Tell me that ain’t--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Three guesses and one of them – it ain't the paramedics.”

I am laughing so hard.

“Bobby, I gotta stash this ring.”

“Well, don’t swallow it.”

“Right! I’m swallowing it, Bobby!”

I can’t even swallow pills, Rufus swallowed a whole ass ring. What a legend.

“You know what, forget it. I mean I'm baring my soul like a freaking girl here and, uh, and you've got stuff to do. So that is – that's fine. That's fine but, seriously, a little selfish. Not all about you.”

UH DEAN WINCHESTER, YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH.

OHHH SPILL THE TEA BOBBERS.

“Sam. Dean. I love you like my own. I do. But sometimes – Sometimes... You two are the whiniest, most self-absorbed sons of bitches I ever met! I'm selfish? Me? I do everything for you! Everything! You need some lore scrounged up, you need your asses pulled out of the fire, you need someone to bitch to about each other, you call me and I come through. Every damn time! And what do I get for it? Jack with a side of squat!”

“Bobby-”

“Do I sound like I'm done? Now look. I know you've got issues. God knows I know. But I got a news flash for you. You ain't the center of the universe! Now, it may have slipped your mind... that Crowley owns my soul! And the meter is running! And I will be damned if I'm going to sit around and–and be damned! So how about you two sack up and help me for once?”

I love Bobby Singer!!!

“Luther Vandross show up? Tell him I'm a fan.” Jody’s got jokes.

Come on, Jody. :( Although I lowkey get and respect her wanting to keep her job.

I don’t think Bobby’s had the chance to drink/eat anything when he wants to.

Jody pulls through!

“Please tell me the ring is still in your stomach.”

*Rufus pulls the ring out of his pocket*

“I’ll go boil some water.”

pfft.

Gavin MacLeoud.

Crowley’s always hated his job a King of Hell.

LMAO I love Crowley’s impersonation of Bobby.

That mini plot twist.

“You may be king of the dirt bags here but, in life, you were nothing but a two-bit tailor who sold his soul in exchange for an extra three inches below the belt.” What a ridiculous thing to sell your damn soul for.

“Me and Sam, we’ve gone international.”

“You demons. You think you're something special. But you're just spirits. Twisted, perverted, evil spirits. But, end of the day, you're nothing but ghosts with an ego.”

“You hear that, Crowley? That’s me flicking my Bic for you.” lol Dean.

AAYYY BOBBY FUCKING SINGER. Bargained with the King of Hell and won.

“You know, now that I think about it, maybe I'll just... napalm your ass anyhow.”

“Dean, he's a dick, but a deal’s a deal.”

“I don't need you fight my battles for me, Moose. Get bent. Now, if you'll excuse me. I've a little hell to raise.”

One of my favorite Crowley lines/moments.

That tiny little car.

Dean loved Bobby so much he went on a 9 hour plane ride for him.

lmao, why am I Dean?

“Listen. Um – about the things I said earlier. I was in a tough spot and I–I guess I was–” NO NO YOU NEEDED TO SAY THAT, THEY NEEDED TO HEAR IT.

Let Bobby have his breaks, damn it.

We love ya, Bobbers.

#supernatural #spn summer rewatch #spn liveblog #spn 6x04 #weekend at bobby's #jensen's directorial debut!

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