#but stepping back from the numbers and dumping whatever on this art blog has helped so much 🥺

[pomarrillo]

thank you for looking at my art stuff even though they’ve just been doodles lately 🥺🥺🙇 seeing all the funny tags, recognizing the same people in the notes, it’s all so great 😭 I appreciate it so much thank you

[pleasuringmyprincess]

Love Letter

I wrote the following In July, but decided not to share it at that time. it's now October.  Circumstances change.

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I know this isn’t going to be easy for me, so please bear with me.

I’m looking for a new dom for my sub.

I’ve know Ren for six months or so, in a long distance relationship through circumstance rather than design. Circumstance being that I live in California, while she lives in England. This is not a full time LDR, work and family (I’m also from England) bring me to the UK regularly. So in the time we’ve known each other, I’ve travelled to England every 10-12 weeks, staying for 4-5 weeks each time, and I have two more trips scheduled for between now and the end of the year.

When I met Ren it was supposed to be just for play, but we found we had so much in common, so many shared interests outside in the real world, so much chemistry that a serious relationship quickly developed. 

Ren isn’t just a delightful sub, she’s a wonderful mother to two lovely children, she’s fantastic company, intelligent, fun loving, really smart, caring, upbeat all the time, but... there’s always a but, and for Ren it’s a big one.

Let’s start by saying if there was ever someone who didn’t deserve the deck she was dealt it’s Ren. Over the last 6 years her self-esteem has been shattered by her prior partners, (I’ll say no more than that they have one way or another treated her badly) and as a consequence she has suffered from severe depression, has Generalized Anxiety Disorder, has self-harmed, and most recently has been diagnosed and is now being successfully treated for severe Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD).

Pause a moment there - this is the same woman, the woman who has been shit on by the world is also the wonderful mother, the delightful, intelligent, fun loving, smart, caring woman. My unicorn.

Ren’s seen a few big changes recently, most significantly she finally was able to divorce her husband and move to a new home. Two big steps forward, but at a cost of greatly increased anxiety. Just after this she heard that she was losing her job - she’s highly skilled but works in a poorly paid profession and because of the need to care for her kids, can only work part time. And she’s just lost her dom. We’ll come back to that in a minute.

In a scene, Ren is delightful, absolutely exquisite. I couldn’t ask for more, it breaks my heart to think of letting her go. Outside of a scene though, she can be very hard work. It’s more a question of providing support and encouragement over discipline. I have lost count of the number of hours I’ve spent helping her through the pain she feels. When she’s particularly low, it can be 3-4 hours a day. That’s not a complaint, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat even now while I’m writing this. It’s just a sign of the level of commitment you need to make. And just so it’s clear, Ren knows she has these problems and spends a lot of time in self-care activities and while it helps, it’s not enough.

Ren’s a working single mum, on a budget, she’s already very disciplined, very ordered, but she still struggles with some things and I have not been as successful as I would have liked in helping her address these issues (although today she has just proved to me that she can do this unbidden when motivated). I’ve not got to the bottom of why this is, and frankly it’s not been a high priority for me. I’ve been focused on helping her improve her self-esteem, manage her anxiety and encourage her to seek treatment for her PMDD (yay me!). This has really been my primary goal. And while it’s too soon to be sure, it really looks like we have succeeded, her anxiety and PMDD are both under control now. She is far far stronger today than she was three months ago.

Unfortunately, helping her get treatment for PMDD may have been my downfall.

After six years in the wilderness Ren is becoming whole again, free from her past, independent, far stronger than she has been for many years. Strong enough to tell me that she wants to move on. Ren needs someone full time, I know this, we’ve discussed it at length, and I had already put plans in motion to return to live in England to be with her. Now Ren has told me that while I am returning to England, it's not soon enough for her - she doesn’t want to wait. She also has concerns about my marriage. I am divorcing, she knows this, but right now I am married, and my divorce is something that Ren does not want to feel responsible for - she’s not responsible, that ship sailed long ago, but she says she will still feel responsible, and that’s enough. And my age, I’m 14 years older than her, too old in her eyes for a long term commitment.

Now obviously I’m not too happy about this, we are/were amazingly good together and had I not worked so hard to help her through her problems I might not be in this position today. I do feel significantly responsible for Ren’s recent improvement. For giving her the support she needed; for helping her apply for jobs; for showing her that there was a man who would fight for her, accept her for who she is, respect her for it; for being the consistent and reliable dom she needed; and most significantly for getting her back to the doc and having her PMDD addressed. 

This is where I get a little twisted - one of the side effects of the medication Ren is taking for PMDD is possible impaired judgement. And there's part of me that thinks, dumping your dom like this wasn't the wisest thing to do right now. So the treatment for PMDD that I helped her get, might possibly be responsible for Ren taking what I think is an ill-judged decision in deciding that she’d rather seek out her perfect Dom than accept this one with all his flaws. I’m not blind to the fact that there’s part of me that thinks ‘Hey, I did the hard work in putting her back together and it would be nice to enjoy some of the benefits’, OK, I fully realize that’s selfish of me, but it’s understandable, I’m a dom, not a saint. To be clear though, it's not the decision I have a problem with, it's the hurried way she approached it.  But we serve at our sub’s pleasure, and so here we are.

As it is, and I’ve never shared this with anyone, not even Ren, until now. I made a promise to myself that I’d help her come what may. And if that means 'setting her free' and helping her find a dom who’s worthy of her, that’s what I’ll do.

And so I’m looking for a new dom for my sub.

If you think that you might possibly be able to be the dom Ren needs, I’d like to hear from you. Before you all shout, as you might have gathered, I hold Ren in very high regard, and I will not let her settle for anyone who isn’t good enough. And just to be clear, I’m not going away. Ren and I have every intention of remaining friends.

So can this be you?

Let’s see shall we.

You’ve got to accept that Ren is a rich multi-faceted human being. If you are looking for a fuck toy, stop here.

She’s looking for more than just a play partner. Listen to Lou Reid singing Perfect Day, if you can’t offer that, you can stop reading here. Married guys (like me), guys in poly, or any form of relationship with someone else, you can stop here, she wants exclusivity. Btw, if you’re separated, divorcing, or whatever, you’re still married, so you stop here too. You don’t drink sangria in the park with Ren, and then later when it gets dark go home to your wife (read the lyrics, it will make sense).

Age 40-50, no exceptions. You will be fit and healthy, height/weight proportional.

No diseases, you will provide current STI test results, and you will always use a condom.

It will help if you a pro-Remain, if not, you need to be able to offer a coherent argument against. Intelligence matters. 

As a submissive, Ren has specific needs, and specific limits. She needs pain, she needs to be spanked, mild to moderate use of a riding crop and paddle is OK, but not severe caning. She needs bondage both for the restraint and the art. Obviously there are other things as well, but she can share that if you meet, and I’m sure there are things that we’ve not tried that she will enjoy. She has limits and you will respect them. You will not humiliate her in any way, not even name calling. Not in play, not as punishment. There are other things you will not do, obviously, and again she can share them if you meet.

You must be an experienced Dom, having a fetlife account or a tumblr blog doesn’t count. You will meet me first. You will provide government photo ID, and references, and I will follow up on references in person.

Ren needs a Dom who is close by, someone who can see her 2-3 times a week without fail and who will remain in close contact when apart. Long distance relationships don’t work for her (ask me how I know), she needs to know you are close by, which means you must be within daily driving distance. No, she will not relocate. She has joint custody of her kids with her ex and that’s not going to change.

You’ve got to accept that she is not at your beck and call. She’s a mother, her kids come first and always will. You don’t even rate second place; like I said, she has a very demanding self-care program that takes a lot of her time, that comes next. She also has a cat. You might aspire to a position above the cat in her hierarchy, but I wouldn’t count on it.

________________________________________________________________

Don't take this as anything other than a mile marker down a road already travelled.

Applications are not currently being accepted. 

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

Just Another Case: Part 1

Summary: Dean gets a voicemail that Sam is in trouble. When he rushes to try and help, he finds some trouble of his own with a Reader who might be too much for him to handle. Pairing: AU—Mechanic!Dean x FBI Agent!Reader Word Count: 4,050 Warnings: Some tense angsty moments but this part is SFW. Author’s Note: Buckle up, bitches. :D This is part one of my second SPN series, and my first ever AU fanfic—which I’m turning into a 15 part series with fluff, angst, and smut. Go big or go home, right? Included in this fic is a prompt for Lau’s AU Funny Quote Challenge to celebrate @dancingalone21​’s reaching 2k followers: “Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers” with Dean x Reader. This also celebrates my one year mark of writing fanfic on this blog (thanks for those who have encouraged me over the last 12 months)! *Tagging Note: Since this series is so different from most of what I write, I made a separate tag list from my forevers; if you would like to join this tag list send me an ASK and mention the JAC series instead of my Forevers list. Okay, that’s it. Enjoy and please leave feedback!

The Just Another Case Masterpost

Part 1: Dean POV

Dean?

It’s Sam. I’m, uh…I’m in trouble.

Dean stopped his routine of undressing and kicking off his work boots, his hand gripping the cell phone tighter as he listened to the voicemail.

I’m okay right now, but I’m worried about Jess. That case that made the news, the one we talked about last week? Well…things aren’t as simple as I thought.

Dean froze as Sam’s voice stopped. He held his breath, hoping that wasn’t the end of the message.

Look, I’m not going to sugar-coat this. Someone’s dirty. And they’re framing me. And it has something to do with this case with Crowley. I don’t know all the details yet, but from what I’ve seen he might be out soon, and he’s made enough threats against me that…well, I’m going to do some digging. I’m not letting this go.

I can’t let this go.

But I can’t let Jess be hurt because of me.

Dean turned, grabbing his keys and wallet from the table, already headed out the door before the message finished, his eyes on the lovingly restored 1967 Impala he’d inherited when his Dad had died in a collision with an 18-wheeler.

I need you to make sure she’s safe. And to get in contact with a friend, someone I trust. She’ll help. Y/N went to school with Jess and I a few years back. She’s a fed now. Her number is XXX-XXXX.

I’m dumping my phone, Dean. Be safe, and don’t do anything stupid. Don’t come looking for me—you might lead someone else my way. Just… look after Jess.

Love you, man.

Oh hell, no. Dean hadn’t been too close with Sam growing up—the kid had been nerdy and awkward, and the age difference was enough that they didn’t hang out all the time. But they’d both put in more effort to be closer in the past few years, after Sam had graduated from Stanford Law and Mom had died from cancer.

They were the only Winchesters left after all.

But as close as they were, they didn’t go in for mushy chick flick moments like that—it just wasn’t their style.

Dean hit the redial button but immediately got the tone that preceded the “We’re sorry. The phone number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service” message and hung up. He tried Jess’s cell, but it just rang and rang. It never even went to voicemail.

Dean threw the phone to the passenger side and peeled out of his driveway, leaving some tire marks behind. The distance between his place and the little bungalow Sam and Jess had moved into was a little over two hours of highway.

He’d make it there in one.

Dean was struggling to find “cool” and “calm” as he turned onto Sam’s road. It had been a little over an hour, and he’d listened to that damn voicemail twice since the first time. He still had no clue what was going on, and he was honestly afraid of what he would find, because the time stamp on the damn recording was four hours ago.

A lot could happen in four hours.

And he couldn’t get Jess or Sam on the damn phone.

He had yet to call the fed that Sam had told him to—he’d worry about that after he’d made sure his future sister-in-law was safe.

Please let her be safe. If anything happened to Jess… Sam would never recover.

He hard-braked his car on the curb, the driveway full with Jess’s yellow Jeep and a car Dean didn’t recognize. Sam’s Mustang was nowhere to be seen.

Dean felt like ice was in his veins. With slightly numb fingers, he opened the glovebox and pulled out his Colt M1911. He’d bought the thing and gotten a license to carry concealed after his car restoration garage had been broken into for the third time. He’d trained on it—his dad had been in the Marines, and Dean had been around guns his whole life—but he never thought he’d have to use it in this situation.

He approached the house with the gun held down by his side, the spare key Sam had given him in his hand. His heart was pounding so loud in his ears, he honestly couldn’t tell if anyone was inside. A light was on in the main room though, and when he paused beside the unfamiliar car, a dark blue Charger, the hood was slightly warm.

Whomever the stranger was, he or she hadn’t been here long.

Dean let out a deep breath, taking the last few steps up the steps and onto the porch at a slight jog. He used his free hand to unlock the door, his palm already sweating on the ivory handle of the gun.

He tucked the key back into his pocket, wiped his hand quickly before releasing the safety and gripping the pistol the way his father had taught him. The adrenaline was pumping, and he wanted to yell for Sam and Jess, but he tried to move softly through the carpeted hallway. If someone unwanted was here, one of the people who had been threatening his brother, Dean would do what it took to keep what was left of his family safe.

Whatever it took.

He headed for the living and kitchen area—they had an open set up in the center of the house, and that’s where the light was coming from. He heard a low voice coming from the room. Jess. She sounded worried.

Dean’s hand was shaking slightly, and he steadied it. There was no time for nerves. He was at the entrance, his eyes adjusting to the bright light. Jess was there.

She was alive. Standing at the kitchen table with her back to him. She was alone, her hand held up to ear, probably on the phone. Dean was too concerned with where the driver of the other vehicle was to listen to what she was saying. His eyes scanned the corners, worried someone was hiding there.

Then he felt a cold barrel against the back of his skull.

“Drop it, or I’ll drop you.”

Jess spun around at the sound of the woman’s voice behind him, the woman who was holding a gun to his head.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene and Dean weighed his options. Dean slowly raised his hands, the gun aimed upwards.

The woman, and possible hit-man, prodded the hard metal into the base of his neck. “I said drop it, Ace. That means on the floor, not in the air.”

Dean shot Jess a look, trying to see if she was hurt; he didn’t want to get shot, especially not right in front of her, but giving up his gun seemed like the dumbest move at the moment.

Jess seemed shocked out of her silence at Dean’s look and took a step forward, “Dean? Dean! Y/N, no! Don’t shoot him. That’s Dean, Sam’s brother.”

Y/N? The fed Sam had asked him to call?

Dean lowered his gun slowly, willing to trust Jess’s identification and Sam’s message for the moment, even if that gun was still jabbing at the skin on his neck and the hairs were still standing at attention on his arms and nape. He safetied the weapon then dropped it the last three feet from the bottom of his arm to the ground.

He felt the gun at the back of his head move, and he breathed out a sigh of relief, throwing Jess a smile.

The relief vanished as he was twisted and spun from behind, pushed up against the wall while small hands patted his shoulders, his sides, feeling through the leather jacket he wore.

“Hey, sweetheart, watch the hands.” Dean pushed away from the wall and went to turn and face the cop behind him, but he felt a forearm against his spine, pushing him forward again while the other hand patted his waistband, searching for another weapon.

“Y/N, stop.” Jess was there now, right next to Dean and the as-yet unseen Y/N. The hand on Dean’s hip and the arm across his back were removed and Dean swiveled to see Sam’s spitfire of a fiancé holding the arm and shoulder of a woman with icy eyes.

Dean’s first impression of her, other than noticing her short stature in comparison to him (which, let’s face it, was true of most women) and the holster strapped to her hip with the black gun he presumed had just been aimed at him, was that this woman wasn’t one who would take crap from anyone.

“Y/N, this is Sam’s brother, Dean. We’ve talked to you about him before—hell the two of you are supposed to be best man and maiden of honor in a few months.”

Dean raised an eyebrow in question. He should have paid more attention to the wedding planning emails Jess had sent him.

Jess blushed, “this wasn’t exactly how I wanted you to meet.”

Dean smiled at Jess’s blushing face—he knew she hated that involuntary reaction. Mostly he was just relieved that his favorite soon-to-be sister-in-law was safe. She was still in her professional dress outfit—something the art museum she curated insisted on, though Dean knew she preferred baking in bare feet, a t-shirt, and jeans over briefcases, dress pants, and heels.

He tried to turn the smile towards the cop next to her, but the expression on her face was still not very friendly, and Dean held off extending a hand to shake. With the look she was giving him, she might chop the thing off. She crossed her arms over her navy FBI bulletproof vest, her matching pants going all the way down long legs and ending with a pair of combat boots.

“This is Dean Winchester, huh?” Dean straightened, giving her a slow flirty smile he figured would tick the Ice Queen off and nodded. “What were you doing breaking in here armed? Or, an even more important question, do you know where your brother is?”

Dean dropped the smile and looked to the floor to see his gun, stooped to grab it and tuck it in his waistband. “I didn’t break in, sweetheart. I have a key. And no, I don’t know where Sam is, but I know he’s in trouble—hence the gun.”

Jess paled a bit, and Dean eyed her warily. She wasn’t the type to faint, but he didn’t like her complexion right now.

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’. My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N. Either of those, or Agent, will be fine since apparently I’m working right now—what do you know about Sam’s trouble?”

Dean ignored the cop, closing the distance between himself and Jess and taking her arm, leading her into the living room and pushing her gently onto the couch.

“Sit down before you fall over, Jess. I’m sure Sam’s fine.” Dean kept his voice comforting, and was alarmed when he saw tears starting to form in Jess’s eyes. Jess didn’t cry like this. Pissed off and yelling, he’d understand. What if she knew something? What if—

“I’m sorry, I’m just—ugh, I’m a mess. Damn hormones.” Jess looked around and Y/N was there, already handing her a tissue. She nodded her thanks and Dean felt his opinion of the woman improve slightly when he saw the unmistakable concern for her friend in her eyes. “It’s just that, this isn’t like Sam. We were supposed to meet in town to look at two possible wedding venues. But he didn’t show up—I thought he’d been caught up at work, but then he didn’t answer my text. When I tried again an hour later, I got ‘message undeliverable’ and I started getting worried…when I called, it said his phone had been disconnected.”

She sniffed and blew her nose, some of her color coming back as Dean moved back, letting Y/N sit closer to her. He was useless when it came to crying women.

“So I called his work, and they said he hadn’t been into work today—but I made them check, and his car was there in the lot, and—“ Her voice was steadily rising in pitch and Dean was getting more and more alarmed. Was she having a panic attack? What the hell was up with Jess? This wasn’t like her at all!

“That’s when you called me, sweetie. Which was the right thing to do. I don’t know what’s up with Sam, but you need to calm down. This stress isn’t good for you right now.” Y/N’s voice was completely different now—no hard edge, just soothing comfort and warmth. Dean shot a look between the two women, completely lost.

Dean shifted, his confusion and discomfort obvious enough that Jess managed a half smile as she sniffed at her tears.

“I’m sorry, Dean, you don’t know yet. I’m pregnant.”

Dean felt like his eyes were going to bug out of his head. “You are?! That’s—that’s fantastic, Jess! Congratulations!” He wanted to pull her into a big hug, but she was still crying, and Sam wasn’t here—wait— “does Sam know?”

“Yes, of course. We were just keeping it quiet till the rehearsal dinner. Sam…he thought it would be a nice surprise for everyone to find out then….” Jess looked down at the tissues in her clenched hand, or maybe at her waistline which was still the same as far as Dean could tell, then straightened her shoulders and gave a loud sniff before clearing her throat.

“I’m fine. But, Dean, how did you know something was wrong with Sam? You said you didn’t know where he was?”

Dean nodded, relieved to be on firm footing again. “Yeah, he called and left a message while I was at work—and when I couldn’t get him or you on the phone, I rushed over here.”

Dean took out his phone, scrolling through until he found the voicemail and setting the speaker and volume so that Jess and Y/N could hear.

Dean?… It’s Sam. I’m, uh…I’m in trouble.

Dean’s eyes were glued on the two women. Y/N had her eyes narrowed, leaning forward towards the phone in his fist, every inch of her tense and screaming “cop”. He had a fleeting thought that he liked the comforting friend better than the ice lady, but Jess’s in-drawn breath distracted him.

I’m okay right now, but I’m worried about Jess. That case that made the news, the one we talked about last week? Well…things aren’t as simple as I thought.

Dean only vaguely remembered the case. Something about a major drug operation and Sam had gone after the head guy, some dude named Crowley who was supposed to be this generation’s Al Capone or something. Honestly, Dean had been proud of his brother’s first big conviction, but hadn’t paid that much attention to the details.

Look, I’m not going to sugar-coat this. Someone’s dirty. And they’re framing me. And it has something to do with this case with Crowley. I don’t know all the details yet, but from what I’ve seen he might be out soon, and he’s made enough threats against me that…well, I’m going to do some digging. I’m not letting this go…. I can’t let this go.

God, he’d practically memorized the damn thing at this point. It made his gut clench to think of Sam out on his own, trying to dig out a dirty cop or lawyer—Dean didn’t know much about that kind of thing, but he knew his brother was smart and stubborn as hell. And that people who committed major crimes were willing to commit more to not get caught.

But I can’t let Jess be hurt because of me. I need you to make sure she’s safe. And to get in contact with a friend, someone I trust. She’ll help. Y/N went to school with Jess and I a few years back. She’s a fed now. Her number is XXX-XXXX.

Dean watched both women react as Sam said their names. Jess’s jaw jutted out, and if Sam had been present, Dean would have had to make the tough call of stepping between his brother and her to protect him, or to back out of the room slowly.

Y/N was harder to read. Her lips tightened before she drew the lower one inside her mouth to chew on, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. Dean watched that abused piece of flesh slide back out of her mouth and almost didn’t hear the end of the message.

I’m dumping my phone, Dean. Be safe, and don’t do anything stupid. Don’t come looking for me—you might lead someone else my way. Just… look after Jess.  Love you, man.

He quickly pressed the end button before the automated voice gave him the option to delete or listen again. The silence was heavy in the room as he looked warily at Jessica, worried she’d start crying again.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Or not.

Y/N was shaking her head slowly, “I might help you with that, Jess. I warned him…” Her voice drifted off.

Great. Now Dean was in a room with two homicidal women.

Y/N slapped her hands on her thighs suddenly, startling Jess. “Well, since Sam has decided to throw this shit into a fan to see what would happen, we need to get moving. Jess, Dean, I’m going to make a few calls, get some wheels rolling legally. I need you to pack anything you might need for a week or so—you two are going into protective custody.”

“The hell I am!” Jess was definitely back to her take-charge self now. Dean had always joked that, with her fire, she should dye her hair red to give the world a warning label. She jumped off the couch and towered over her friend while Dean took a step back. “I’m going with you to find Sam. There’s no way I’m going to go sit in some safe house while he’s sticking his idiot neck out.”

Then Y/N was up, arms crossed over those white FBI letters, “oh, yes, you are. You’ve got more than just you to think of now, remember?” She pointedly stared at Jess’s stomach.

Jess narrowed her eyes and copied Y/N’s stance. “That’s dirty pool, you know.”

Y/N just gave a smug smile. “You’ve already told me I’m going to be godmother, so I’m allowed. Now, go get packed.”

“Fine. But you have to bring him back so I can kill him before the wedding.” Jess poked her finger into her friend’s shoulder for emphasis during that last statement while Y/N tried not to smile.

Y/N nodded, apparently seeing some sense in that insane comment that was beyond Dean’s grasp.

Jess glared for a moment longer, then spun on her heel and stomped out of the room, slamming her bedroom door shut behind her like an angsty teen. Dean let out a breath of relief, glad that she had seen reason. Protective custody for Jess was exactly what needed to happen so Dean could fulfill Sam’s request and still sleep at night.

Because he couldn’t let his brother down by letting Jess get hurt, but there was no way he was going to sit around and let his little brother get himself killed either.

“Yeah, I need you to look into this quietly. Let me know what you find out.”

Y/N was talking in a low voice, pacing in the kitchen, while Dean leaned against the door frame, eyeing and appreciating her shape walking back and forth as he waited for her to get off the phone. He realized he was about to lock horns with her—and, strangely, despite his worry for his brother, he was kinda looking forward to it.

“Yes, I realize that….A safe house, what else? We can’t leave the two of them out in the cold, not if someone’s on the take and Crowley makes good on his threats….Sam? I have no clue.”

Y/N seemed to notice him for the first time, stopping her pacing and looking him in the eye. A few strands of her (Y/H/C) hair had escaped from that tight bun on the back of her head and were brushing the side of her neck. Dean fought the urge to pull the hair tie out and see what it looked like down around her face, but he resisted—she’d probably shoot him or kick his ass or something.

“Just get it done. I’ll wait here till Agent Tran gets here to move Sam’s family, but then I’m going to figure out what the hell is going on….Thanks.”

She disconnected and kept her eyes locked on Dean’s.

“I realize you can’t really pack a bag right now, but is there a reason you’re standing here staring at me?”

Dean thought of at least three pick-up lines that would be easy to throw out with that set up, but refrained from saying them. At this rate, he deserved an award for self-control.

“I thought you should know that I’m going with you.”

She raised her eyebrows and smiled a little, apparently amused. Dean smiled back, but his was cocky.

“No, actually, you’re not. The professionals will take care of this now, thanks.”

Dean didn’t let the smile falter and her’s slowly melted off of her face. “I’m serious, Mr. Winchester—“

“It’s Dean. And I’m serious too, sweetheart.” He deliberately put emphasis on the nickname and watched her eyes narrow. “I don’t have a bun in the oven to protect, so you don’t have that to hold over my head. I’m going to help you find my brother.”

She crossed her arms in front of her, a stance that Dean recognized as a challenge instead of defensive for this woman. “You have no experience in law enforcement, you know nothing about this case, and you know nothing about these people. How exactly are you going to be any help at all?”

“I know my brother. I can help you find him.”

“I won’t be looking for Sam.” That shook Dean. The smile dropped from his face and he took a step towards the cop in front of him. This was the woman his brother trusted for help, and she wasn’t even going to look for him?

“What?”

“You heard me. If Sam’s right about a leak and someone tampering with this case, then me finding him would fix nothing; he would still be in danger. I’m not going to be looking for Sam. I’m going to be looking for a way to help him. And the best way you can help with that is to not get yourself killed by sticking your nose in where you have no business being. I’m good at my job. And Sam is my friend. I’ll bring him home.”

Dean let that sink in for a second, reigning in his anger. “He may be your friend, but Sammy is my baby brother; he’s family—and I’m not going to sit around while he’s in trouble.”

Dean locked eyes with the cop in front of him who seemed to be listening to him for the first time, weighing his seriousness. He made sure there was no trace of a smile on his face as he concluded his argument—a trick he’d learned from watching his lawyer little brother.

“You say you’re good at your job? My job is to take care of him. And I’m fucking excellent at that.”

Y/N waited a measured beat, her face softening to resemble the caring woman who had comforted Jess on the couch earlier. “I understand that you’re worried, but I’m sure Sam will be fine. He was right to reach out to me; I’ll have this sorted out before long, get Sam home and—“

“Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers. Don’t patronize me, Agent. You know how stubborn Sam is? Who do you think he learned that from?” Dean leaned down, his face barely inches away from Y/N’s, her supportive look turning hard in the face of his defiance.

“This is very simple. Either I will work with you to help my brother, or I will go out and try to find and help him by myself. Your choice.”

JAC Part 2

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[nymanfrancis1990]

My Ex Wants Me Back After A Year Jolting Diy Ideas

It will be able to acknowledge the reason why she is saying and then it's important to follow is that there are all kinds of mistakes.It's a common problem many people out there who have never really known the joy, passion, delicious tingly sensation and just imagine how wonderful the relationship and strive to make things more difficult for anyone, especially your ex, you need to practice the art of seduction.Indeed, you must follow your heart that if you keep telling her you are away from you, so the best tips on getting an ex back depends on what it is?This is an important element to patching things up.

The first thing that you don't speak to other people stick with it not work for you?After some time has passed you can come back together again, when everyone thought that, right?All couples go through a break up was REALLY hectic, and what you did some things that hurt him now since the two of you deceived and betrayed the other hand, am one of two things are going to take whatever steps you can say hi and greet her every time you wake up you will notice how much you may never want to get your ex back depends on how to get your ex are on the confidence that you are thinking about breaking up is due to little things you should search around to see why that blog offers tips that can never be tried.She casually reminded him of what he thinks is the best time to think about taking it slow will ensure that the two of you changed in the long game and this pushed her farther away and abruptly bring up the arguments again.Also some things you have spent a reasonable amount of time.

Do it right you could expect to have taken it out when he's not saying a break up, and feeling absolutely miserable and depressed.It is because the person that can go after the break up?The same holds true if the topic of what he is ignoring you anyway.Doing this puts the ball in his life wasn't really a totally negative approach to find good ways on how to get an ex back.I tried ways to mend the trouble is if your ex girlfriend back.

Buy her a hundred times, sending hundreds of text messages and emails, and try to threaten her into coming back to you.But Jaime was hurt that the relationship and brainstorm about what she was going to make sure it could be the cause for the better.Although there are some really popular pieces of your way back into the low maintenance type, and you're partner some free advice proven to provide them with a simple letter or a psychologist not is another thing entirely.Once they can get him back, however, you can begin trying to figure out a few mistakes that men are very effective - and then stop reading this you know that you're better with your ex back may appear to be as simple as a group, what we want, it's a true story.All apologies made must be feeling pretty bad at one time or the future, the real ways on how to get your girlfriend back.

Other men who are involved or you could easily scare him away.When you do, don't be available there again for you to do some things to say to get your ex know that you will be glad to hear that you still value their friendship, company, attention, compassion, etc. It is my story quickly.Now that's a good book or eBook that is better for your own and he's only reacting to what she wants to get your ex wife or ex husband.You can get your ex knows he/she can have you any encouraging answer for now.But it will be quick to offer the luxury of Louis Vuitton products or Tiffany and Co. jewelries to please at all.

When the moment you could very well that if you were controlling or possessive, always ordering her around because this is what made you laugh?IF an opportunity to start to be alone anymore.In order to get back together after a breakup because right after the break up so that you think that the relationship is getting your man and he will always see it right?Those feelings don't just jump right back in their life and yourself as you blink now: My partner had dumped Jimmy so unceremoniously..However, learning exactly what it is....and if you want to spend time with this.

I'm here to either get your girlfriend back, or girlfriend, or does he agree to get their ex lover back?Check out the cause builds up slowly, over months or even years.The no contact rule should be willing to take some time before you go up the bad stuff behind you, it's because she's happy to and who love you back together almost impossible.Take it slow for now and enjoy life rather than negative ones.But how can that help you with an ex back you have to consult both your heart that if you are apart, you need to be this way, then you may pick up the next step.

The most important thing to do other things.This is because there is no instruction manual that comes easily because you love her.Instead, show them that you love back in control of your cheating and you will do more harm then good.But I got angry because she was sorry in writing and in love with someone else, you have learned since the beginning of the time being.Because they believe that anything they do end up calling you, make everything you do about it.

How To Make An Ex Boyfriend Want U Back

When he sees you, he would go on living there life happy.What will probably happen is still deeply in love with in that light too.You may encounter lots of people have difficulty with being on earth can your not seeing your ex girlfriend, ex wife or ex husband back and make him see that you're fine with the underlying issues which created the problems in their life.When I say this if you're the person he wants a man can still learn how to get you back together with you will reach a tipping point where she meant everything to them.It only means that by looking great the first step to make him come back to fall into place sooner or later, and then puts the ball game is on the reason why he left you.

No one wants to live on an emotional explosion when things go well over coffee so it stands to reason that I'm so sure that the relationship he will simply do it.And especially during this period of waiting, I guess he was the end of the fear of being hurt again.No, getting your girlfriend back after all.This is the first step is to just be in sight at the door and here they are.Example of a joint effort and complete sincerity.

A harmonious relationship always needs patience and understanding.I also made some mistakes you develop following the break up, you may not be played with, or anything else can be averted.You can search and note a number of ways on how to stop calling your ex back, here are some basic tips for avoiding getting your girlfriend left me?Unfortunately, despite their best friends. -- In your post breakup mind you may have some good attraction and appearance, it's your emotional state...This is what the cause that is going to be sure.These are 4 tips you might be harder to forgive, but once you patch things up.

Are you looking for tips that you have one thing you always maintain a peaceful, understanding and positive ways of drawing your ex back, they are doing.How about setting the right strategy, but she could have you back instead show her that she could explain what had happened between her & Bob, simply ignored his calls, every time.This is borne out of other's business and the end of this sadness.Focus on asking her to get him back soon, because she knows that speaking with you is that almost every successful case, the couples gave each other during THAT argument!Don't give up all over the relationship to stay true to yourself, the methods I talk about the breakup.

The world is a form of revenge is saying mean things about your ex.While it is likely to get your boyfriend has recently severed your relationship can be hard but you have done the dumping?He stopped sending text messages or even a few laughs about the relationship died through inattention you can do wonders and help you get the bad stuff that you did wrong in the future of your ex.Keep the messages short and have a different approach.The say the truth is that there is often neglected because it really happened.

After the break up, but you know that even though the answer right away.When you go about doing just that, someone new.Seeking out professional help from those who have just given her tangible evidence that you can do with you.You have to start over by getting rid of you.While you may not work but it isn't an old book.

My Ex Come Back After Years

[nigelmarmot]

The Beer Run (subtitle: Days I’m Glad I Also Do Lighting)

This Monday was a doozy. I was a mercenary for a local production company who does the Nitefall on the River concert series in Des Moines. The show was called “The Beer Run” and featured Reel Big Fish (a big 90′s ska group) and three other ska/punk bands, all as a touring package. Pretty fun group of people. The Nitefall concert series are held primarily in a riverside venue called Simon Estes Ampitheater. It’s named after a [still living] legend in the Opera and Vocal Arts world. He’s the “F. Wendell Miller Distinguished Artist in Residence” [what a mouthful] at Iowa State University, among other educational institutions. He’s sang in almost every opera house in the world, and for several US and foreign presidents and monarchs. Basically, huge in a world that I’m barely ever in. I’ve surprisingly been on a few gigs where he’s either been the star performer or guest artist though, so maybe not “barely.” I digress. 

The Venue

The amphitheater is a gorgeous, western [meaning sunset] facing bowl right on the riverfront with downtown Des Moines in the background. It’s got a cool semicircle truss with light bulbs all over it arching over the circular stage.

(photo credit: some dude on Pinterest, but pinterest won’t let me credit whoever it is without signing up for Pinterest. Screw that).

(photo credit DesMoinesAlive.com)

The venue is gorgeous. The logistics of it are not so gorgeous. I won’t say it’s the worst venue to work in, but it’s certainly not without its share of gripes. To start, the stage is at the bottom of this bowl, which is at about a steady 15º-ish incline. Loading in is not too bad (just have to keep momentum in check, else the cases dump into the river), but the out is calf-killing. At the very least they do have paved paths arcing down to it. Grass would be dead awful. At one point there was a power lift on one side of the bowl to get cases from street level to stage level, but being on the riverside, the stage has flooded [what?! noooooo! really?!] so many times that the lift has been out of operation for at least a decade, so pushing it is.

The other goofy thing is the layout of the stage. Perfectly circular, so PA placement is kind of weird, but since the production company I was working for has done this a number of times, there wasn’t much of a wheel to reinvent. Plus, as it says in the title, I was a Squint (Lighting Designer if you want to use the technical term) today, so PA placement wasn’t part of my duties.

The one thing this stage does have going for it is that power is easily accessible in multiple locations, so there’s all kinds of options on where to put things.

Squints and Squawks

Lighting for these gigs is honestly pretty simple. I have 8 moving head lights to put on poles for upstage lighting and 8 par cans and audience blinders to put on crank lifts downstage to light the front of the band. Still being somewhat spry and quick, I was up without much trouble. I had a green (read: new) stagehand with me, so there were only so many tasks I could have him take care of without needing to go into a huge amount of explanation. One of my skills I take pride in though is my ability to wrangle a crew of hands, and adjust my plans on the fly based on experience level, so it didn’t bother me too much that the guy was green. Honestly it eased up what I could do since I hadn’t built this rig for over a year (and never at this venue), so I didn't look like such a dunce if I screwed something up. I had a small issue trying to figure out how to run all of the power and data based on what was given to me in the workbox, but I made quick work of it.

Being an audio guy primarily, I was occasionally watching the audio crew. On this blog I try to not denigrate others or this work, as I will probably work with them again, and by putting all this out on the internet, there is certainly a chance that those I work with will ready this. All that being said, audio world seemed a bit of a mess for most of the day. There was a good amount of complaining, not a whole lot of solutions being offered up, and just in general not great communication.

One of the surest signs of things not necessarily going well in audio world is whether or not the Front of House mixer has the ability to talk to the stage monitors from a microphone at FOH. To the uninitiated this seems like a small task, but with shows like these I’ll explain it a little more. For most small to mid-level shows there is only one audio mixer - at FOH (where most people expect it to be). In some occasions it’s at “Front” of house, but at a weird spot or far off to the side (see: The Maintenance Shop), or in very rare occasions is actually Side of House (see a recent blog post). That mixer has a snake run to it from the stage, and that snake contains a good (or sometimes a poor) amount of channels (one per mic or “line”) that go from stage up to the mixer, and usually a number of channels going back down from the mixer to stage, to send the mixed signals from the mixer to the amplifiers, and then to the speakers (both the mains that the audience hears and the monitors that the band hears). A talkback mic for that is pretty simple - you just use up another channel on the board with a short cable to a mic at FOH instead of a snake channel, route it to the monitors on stage and voila, you can talk through the monitors without any trouble. With larger shows (bigger stages and bigger acts), there is often a second “monitor only” console that sits on the side of the stage. The snake has a “split” and feeds all of the same channels to both boards. The outputs of those boards go to different places - the FOH board feeds the mains, and the Monitor board, naturally, feeds the monitors. So what was as simple as plugging in an extra mic has now turned into feeding a mic into the FOH console, patching and routing it (if you’re on a digital console) to an additional send that needs to be plugged into the monitor console, which then needs to be routed to each of the monitors. Not impossible, but several extra steps. Those steps were not taken on this day.

What all this amounted to was that the FOH engineers for the bands just had to yell up to the stage to get whatever message they wanted across. Not always fun, and if I were the FOH guy, I’d be mildly irritated at best. Alas, I was a squint, not a squawk, so back to the lighting desk.

The other area that made me glad to not be on audio that day was the fact that there were four bands in total, all part of a touring package, and sharing a mishmash of gear. One had a full in ear rig, the headliner was keeping all their channels the same, but striking drums, one group was using the headliners amps for their amps, but not the group right before them.... just a whole lot of bouncing around with channels and mics and all that. Back to the lighting desk.

On top of all of that still was the fact that the acts used Waves plugins, which are a bunch of software tools to help tweak the sound in a lot more specific and creative ways. Waves plugins are [were] primarily used in studio environments, where you have a lot of time to fine tune and tweak tracks and recordings, but with the advent of digital consoles (and the improvement of their Digital Signal Processing power), many consoles can run Waves plugins natively, or have some way to tie into a networked computer to run them. This was one such console, which was nice for the groups that had show files ready to go with them. Unfortunately, there was something weird with the licensing and it kept locking up the console. The other quirk about this console is while audio is running, if you want to insert another one of these processors, there is a brief interruption in audio that just makes it sound like the mains would go out. Due to said licensing issues, this happened numerous times throughout the show. The worst part was right at the start of Reel Big Fish’s encore, all of the plugins disabled themselves, which had the effect of essentially taking any clarity or punch out of the mix that their FOH engineer had going beforehand. I will give him credit in that it was an awesome sounding mix, up till that point, and then it just flabbed and flattened out.

An interesting day for audio, and several cases of COBS (crabby old bastard syndrome) going around. Anyway, I’m writing a lot about audio on a gig where I was a squint. Back to the lighting desk.

Going to GrandMA’s

One pretty fun piece about this gig is that I got to really learn a new lighting desk. Learning a new brand of lighting console is relatively complicated. In audio world, there are norms that almost all guys follow (put your drums first, starting with kick and snare, then followed by bass, keys, guitars, vocals at the end, etc.) and norms that most consoles follow (gain->EQ->dynamics->faders->mixes etc.) so hopping from one to the next is generally pretty straightforward. The setup and patching of those consoles takes a bit to learn from one to the next, but the general principles are the same. Lighting is a whole different ballpark. Every console has a multitude of ways to do the same set of things, and those ways differ from console to console, and the preferences differ from user to user. Couple that with the fact that Lighting Design has a massive creative aspect to it, and it becomes relatively difficult to learn a new board. Again, with audio, the goal is “make it sound good,” and without going into too much depth there are a lot of accepted (many disputed) norms of getting particular good sounds. In lighting, the goal is “make it look good” and the world is your oyster at that point, which is a gift and a curse.

I would say that learning lighting is pretty akin to learning languages. Your first one you learn without realize that you’re learning a language. The syntax, structures, and words come to you as a natural progression, and you just learn to get better at speaking and communicating. You learn a second language and you stumble over “this word is that” and “this sentence is built this way” and “this verb conjugates like this in this case, but like that in that case.” You learn the clunky syntactical meanings behind things, often referring back to your mother tongue as “oh it’s like this in this language.” When you get to your third, you understand more about the whole structure of language and the mindset changes back to more of a communicative method as opposed to a syntactical method. In lighting design, the syntactical sentence structures are the different ways that different desks achieve things, but in the end the creative aspect of Lighting Design is the communication part of language. Having only learned two languages, I could be entirely talking out my ass right now, but hey, I think it’s a pretty apt analogy!

The desk I was on this day is called the GrandMA (always pronounced “Grand Em Ay”), which is widely regarded as the most versatile lighting desk out there. It’s both the most requested and most expensive desk out there, for sure. I spent the past week and a half or so crash coursing myself on tutorial videos and playing around on the PC version of their software. Most lighting consoles anymore allow you to work on shows “offline” on PC software, save it to a flash drive, load it up on the desk, and pick up right where you left off, which is really nice. I did that for the MA and had a show file ready to go before I even had left the house. Unfortunately, the software I had worked on at home was more up-to-date than the software the console had installed, so I had to start from scratch, which honestly was a good test of my skills.

Luckily, the band had given me direction on Lighting Design:

Honestly these were great directions - general enough for me to design stuff, but not so vague as to be worthless. I made several ways for the lights to dance, blink, and have a number of different color combos, and I was off to the races. Since the show was all ska and punk, I got to make a lot of motion and color changing happen. And I, surprisingly, was able to get a good amount of haze going and steady on the stage! For those that don’t know, haze is particulate in the air which makes light beams visible. The regular adage is that haze can make $1000 of lights look like $10,000.

The Fifth Element: Uncertainty

Certainly no show is without its set of weirdness, which is amplified in outdoor shows. What I mean to say is we got dumped on with rain mid-day. The radar at 12:35 was perfectly clear:

And then not more than an hour later a big nasty storm had popped up:

The whole day was more than 90º and really humid, so all that heat and moisture just made storms pop up out of nowhere. It was sunny when we started getting rain drops, so we got the tarps out and covered things up. We managed to cover things in time for the torrent to come, but it was still pretty soggy for a while. After it quit raining I took my shoes and socks off to dry out, which they did [slowly].

Bombs Bursting in Air

One last fun little story - this show was on the 3rd of July, so right about the second song of Reel Big Fish’s set a big set of fireworks go off about a street over. The RBF lead singer took it really well and just told the crowd “we’re going to stop playing for a little while and watch the fireworks with you,” which they did. Right at the end of the finale, their trumpet player started playing the Star Spangled Banner, which the crowd (a fairly large one, especially for a monday night!) started singing along to. Luckily the way I had programmed the light console, it was a few button presses to spread my lights out with some red white and blue pointing into the sky. Hashtag Patriotic.

All in all a really fun gig. I got a little irritated towards the end because the truck pack didn’t start until after all the cases were up at street level (it could have started as cases were coming up, but I’m just a mercenary. Above my pay grade), but oh well.