I’ll cut to the chase real quick here for those of you unwilling to listen to a rant; I won’t be posting tonight. I’ve been awake for about seventeen hours and I had possibly the single SHITTIEST day of work after an admittedly decent school day, save the horror of being in a foreign language class with a teacher who once called me dumb for, you guessed it, not understanding a foreign fucking language. Right, so I was treated like shit all day at work, mostly by middle aged-elderly women. I think it’d be best if I list their offences.

  • Scoffing whilst I’m working through account troubles with the person in line ahead of them
  • Rolling eyes. So many times.
  • Loudly exclaiming “I thought I was in the EXPRESS lane!” when I didn’t teleport from scanner to bag fast enough for their liking.
  • Claiming they’d just “pay in cash, if I’d go any faster.” when someone’s check wouldn’t go through.
  • Placing their items on the scanner while I was bagging the former customer’s groceries, proceeding to be infuriated with me for how many times their product had scanned. Here’s a tip; don’t put your shit on the scanner, where it gets scanned, i.e. where the barcode is SCANNED to be FUCKING ACCOUNTED FOR. Dumbass.
  • Calling me a “robber of the people” when they aren’t pleased with the price of their squash
  • Exclaiming I was a “highway robber” because of the price of the groceries THEY SELECTED. I DO NOT SET THE PRICE OF YOUR FUCKING BOK CHOY
  • Yelling at me when I tried to explain that I had to void out their items multiple times due to their placement of said items on the scanner.
  • Misinterpreting the price and blaming me.
  • Peeling the codes from produce. Like… don’t you know that’s my job… to read those codes… and put them in the register… how am I supposed to do my- forget it.
  • Yelling at me when I put things in “the wrong bag”
  • A few of them had middle aged daughters who also grumbled and glared when I asked them how their day was.
  • More scoffing
  • More eye rolling
  • More name calling

And the best part is that I smiled through the whole fucking thing because I was not in a position where I could defend myself, wishing them a good night and they just SNATCH THE RECEIPT AND GLARE. What do you want me to say? Have a terrible night? I hope someone makes you feel as horribly as you made me feel? Maybe you’ll get lucky and you won’t go to Hell? To top things off, I have to go back to a class with my tormentor tomorrow morning and deal with her snide remarks as she tries to weasel her way under my skin when she clearly stated she no longer wanted me to be a part of her life. I mean, I get it. I stay put, I don’t talk to her, and she just inserts herself into my life and I just want her to leave me the fuck along but oooooooh no, kiddos, apparently ‘we can’t be friends’ now means ‘I’ll shadow you everywhere you go and try my darndest to make you uncomfortable with childish attacks.’ Maybe I should relearn the English language, but I was pretty sure ‘leave me alone’ implied that the requester would also leave me alone.

So, yeah. I’m having a fucking blast. Sorry about the lack of writing.

"Responsibility" - Dean imagine edited/reposted. The reader goes off on a hunt with Castiel, returning to the Winchesters bloodied and beaten, Dean’s affections for the reader heightening his reaction. Fluff.

"Abandon All Hope" - Sam imagine written for the BFC. The reader and Sam embark on a risky wendigo hunt, the reader’s safety endangered by an attack, Sam attempting to heal her whilst in the line of fire. Fluff.



I’ll most likely be unable to post tomorrow, as my seven hour school day is followed by my covering a friend’s three and a half hour shift, which is then followed by homework. I’ll try to jot something down if I have time to spare after the stereotypical welcoming speech in my study hall, but odds are I won’t post as many as three imagines tomorrow. I’ll be pretty strung-out from the extended day. I will try, my minions, but don’t expect an arsenal of writing. Also, I’m planning on writing up the next installment of the Dean imagine "A New Look," so ideas for what happens in the continuation are VERY MUCH APPRECIATED. The Dean imagine series Best Kind Of Liar” (Links to the first three installments can be found on the "The Story Continues…" page or on the first three words of the bolded title, the first installment on “Best” and so on for mobile minions) will be coming to a close shortly with the fourth and final installment, so read up if you want to get ahead of the crowd when the final continuation is posted! I’m also due to write a pregnancy imagine for Dean (not like… he’s pregnant or anything… like the reader’s pregnan- you know what I mean) for the most recent winner of the BFC. Expect that up soon as well, just… probably not tomorrow. I’m booked solid. That’s all for tonight, minions. Over and out.

Sam imagine requested by the winner of the BFC, isahbk! "Sam and the reader go on an intense hunt, they both end up getting injured on the hunt, Sam getting minor ones while the reader gets life-threatning injuries. Sam does everything he can to heal her (ex: summons an angel etc) but it doesn’t work. And then, by some odd miracle, she wakes up and is healed… but Sam is gone?" Well, look at you with your emotional turmoil. Hope you like it!

The forest floor was spongy after the generous dosage of rain the night before had fallen onto the layer of decaying leaves and porous fallen tree trunks, your feet sinking into the compost beneath as you crept between thinner logs, your presence a mere whisper among the rustling leaves. The scent of nature flooded your being, all earth and grimy rainwater and smog-free, open air, your lungs feeding off of the invigorating purity, your breathing rationed so as to remain as quiet as was humanely possible, Sam mimicking your caution behind you as you stalked the telltale tracks of a particularly vicious wendigo, scarlet blood trails smudged against soggy strips of bark, droplets splattered against the otherwise untouched atmosphere. Your feet crunched occasionally against a drier patch of deceased foliage, your heartbeat hammering in your ears like tribal drums on steroids, your eyes flickering to Sam as he scanned the partially bare, spindly fingers of the tree branches above, both of you taking note of your exposure without the coverage of the formerly emerald canopy above. Tacking your shield-less attack onto the speed, strength, and heightened senses of the monster, you were both on edge, your skin uneven with gooseflesh, hairs raised on the back of your neck, every few steps coupled with shivers, each crackling twig restarting your heartbeat on a different pace, your skin prickling with heat at the thought of the monster breathing down your back, claws extended, sharpened specifically for your slaughter. You rearranged your grip on the handle of your flare gun, your palms slick with sweat, both from the humidity (strange as it was this late in the season. Your life revolved around strange occurrences,though, so you weren’t caught entirely off guard) left over from the previous night’s rain as well as from your crippling nerves, your back covered only by your boyfriend, the two of you so fragile in comparison to the beast that stalked your stalking footsteps, the two parties tracking each other with full intent to kill. The tension was hostile.

Sam crept up by your side, his features sharper in the dying afternoon light, the overcast skies sapping all warming light from the sun like a Shamwow, his skin appearing pallid in the hazy glow, his hazel eyes darkened by the lack of sunlight to a deep, paranoid chocolaty brown, his eyes flashing to yours as he stealthily ghosted over the uneven surface. He had taken the head of the party, the nagging at your unprotected back increasing your anxiety as you slouched along, your arm pressing against the base of a wooden tower, Sam sliding to press his spine against a separate tree’s peeling bark, his eyes on your face, his chest rising with his breath, his panic evident only in his breathing. He was just as frightened by the ultimate hunter as you were. You sunk down on your haunches, checking over your weapon, a nervous habit you’d developed from situations as emotionally taxing as this, your fingers fiddling with your safety as your eyes lifted, climbing over Sam’s head, your stomach dropping through the soles of your feet to sink beneath the Earth’s crust as your sight locked on the smear of crimson blood just above your boyfriend’s skull, the glistening liquid dripping downward, still fresh. Your pulse stuttered in your head, pattering of your heart stammering against the inside of your cranium like echoes, the tribal drums faltering as you lowered your eyes to his, your own peeled wide in horror. The blood was not dried. The blood was fresh. It was close. You opened your mouth to warn him, but his eyes shoot skyward, his body rigidly scrambling towards you just as you felt the razors digging into your shoulders, your body lifted effortlessly from the bed of leaves, your gun firing off blanks before it slipped from your fingers, warmth seeping through your jacket as the wendigo raised you into it’s tree, your scream piercing the maddening silence, Sam calling your name, flaming bullets whizzing past your ear, the skeletal branches floating by in a blur, the glass-like fingernails digging further into your skin. You kicked against the monster’s hold, thrashing wildly, your stomach somewhere on the ground along with your sanity, the monster’s jaw clamping down on your neck, your tendons snapping as the beast tore a chunk of flesh from your body. You wailed in agony, the wendigo’s claws loosening their hold, your body slipping, hands reaching blindly for a hold, for the being even… before you plummeted to the earth.

Your body landed with a sickening crunch, femurs snapping like balsa wood against the less cushioned ground, your legs splaying out in unnatural positions. Sam’s hands were on your body in an instant, brushing over your wounds, applying pressure to the oozing hold in your neck, your vision fading in and out of focus like a camera that had been dropped twelve too many times, his shocked, horrified expression zooming in and out of your hazy reality, his voice muffled by your weakened pulse, the only factor you could focus on.

"Oh, God. Y/n, oh my Go-" he stuttered, eyes lifting to the apparent crackling in the forest around him, a soundtrack you were too far gone to listen to. He pressed harder against your bite mark, his eyes dropping to yours, tears glistening along his blurry waterlines. "Shh, we’re gonna get Cas, he’s gonna fix you up, just hang on a little bit…" he warbled, your eyes drooping. His palm, slick with the heat of your blood, cradled your face, shaking your head until you opened your eyes further. "Y/n, don’t you fade away on me, don’t you do that." He ducked his head, mouthing words you couldn’t hear, a shadow flashing around in the woods behind you. Sam’s head perked up, his hand reaching once more for his flare gun, the blue of speed passing by him knocking the weapon from his hold, his hand snapping back, scratched and bleeding from the attack. He hunched over his hand, redirecting his gaze to your face, his uninjured hand holding down the flow from your arteries, his eyes scanning the forest. You blinked slowly, feeling your consciousness slip away to nothingness, your last sight that of Sam lifting himself to his feet, his touch taking with it the last shred of warmth your body could harness.

Your lungs flooded with steaming air, your eyes flashing open to a familiar face, sapphire irises scanning from injury to injury, fingertips pressing into open wounds as your skin healed itself, your bones realigning with muffled snaps, your breath coming easier with every passing second Castiel worked over you. The angel hoisted you to your feet, his hand smoothing over your hair, checking one last time for any tears in your skin before he dropped his hold of you, his eyes turning to skim the empty forest. Your hand drifted to your neck, tracing the placement of your seemingly fatal wound, your clothing still dampened by your blood, Castiel staring about in confusion. You found your voice, finally, plucking your discarded weapon from the earth, the safety still enabled.

"Cas, where’s Sam?" You inquired, skipping your thanks until you knew your partner was safe. The angel’s eyes flashed to yours, void of all emotion excluding concern, his face returning to his search. Your blood ran cold in your recently renewed veins, your hands growing cold. You swallowed the onslaught of bile rising in your throat. Sam had no protection with you out of the way. He had invested his time in your safety, disregarding his own. You hadn’t seen him fall, that much was certain, but you hadn’t seen the beasts demise either. He wouldn’t… abandon you, would he? Surely, if that was the only way to ensure his survival, he would have run… no, he was too loyal for that genre of betrayal. You had sustained injuries severe enough to end your life, were the angel on your shoulder to have skipped this appointment. Did he believe you dead? Where was he? You produced a sound similar to that of a strangled animal when you repeated your question, your eyes brimming with tears, blurring your vision to the clarity you had possessed whilst you were dying. “Cas,” you began, clearing your throat, the angel unresponsive to your voice. “Cas! Where. Is. Sam?”

The angel did not reply.

Alright, minions, so I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to post tonight, as I’m sort of pressed for time in preparation for waking up at 4:45 AM to prepare for a seven hour school day followed by a three and a half hour shift I’m covering for a friend (meaning I walk out of school, get in the car, and head to work for a different, less straining edition of Hell where some of my coworkers are actually respectful and I’m not surrounded by hormonal teenagers) PLUS homework on top of that, but I’ve got a piece of new writing coming along surprisingly quickly and I’m throwing back coffee like I’m a Starbucks sponsor, so if anything, you’ll have some Sam posted by the end of tonight. I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to post tomorrow, if anything, but I can attempt to start something in an email during my study hall tomorrow if there isn’t a huge welcome-back-to-Hell speech to speed along the process when I return home around seven at night. I’m going to focus on completing this piece before I shower and head to bed, but I did manage to throw together a Dean imagine earlier, which I’ll link below to keep the masses at bay while I slam the keyboard with vigor. See you soon… unless I pass out. I’ve been awake for sixteen and a half hours, so it’s not impossible.


Dean imagine requested by anon! This imagine has been edited for reposting, just to beef up the beginner’s writing. Hope you like it!

"We should be back in twenty." Dean spoke, his lips lowering to yours briefly, spreading warmth to your fingertips while putting on his worn hunting jacket, parting from you, his eyes sparkling dimly in the dingy motel lighting. "Any requests?" He asked, his face a centimeter from yours, green eyes glinting at the blush that crept along your cheeks like crimson footsteps under his gaze, his laugh more exhale than chuckle as you slapped at his shoulders, his weight creeping forward to remain close enough to count your eyelashes, fighting against your timid defenses. You laughed, deserting the battle, your fingers closing around his collar to pull him to you, your shift in strength assisting in his dive to your lips, kissing him once more before pushing him out the door to a choir of his protests.

“Bacon cheeseburger!” You yelled before slamming the door in his and Sam’s faces, Dean’s palms slapping against the wood, shouting his farewells through the door before shuffling off in the direction of his car, on yet another food run. You giggled as you sat down at the kitchen table with Castiel, running the pads of your fingers over the scratched surface, nails digging at the upturned tufts of lifted plastic. The angel was otherwise amused, absorbed as he was in dissecting an old map, the parchment brittle beneath his hands from age and exposure, the only clue you had thus far in your current case. The frail paper was torn and withering away, the ancient English barely legible through the time stains pigmenting the page with watery brandy splotches, his eyes skimming the labeled landmarks with potent concentration, his hand ghosting over the images.

“Anything?” You asked the angel, dropping your eyes to your project of plucking at the feathery shards of plastic when he did not respond, shaking his head without lifting his face, his movement caught in your peripheral vision. You stood from the table, joints crackling from your most recent sprain, your hands closing around a half-empty coffee mug you had just then claimed as your own, waltzing over to the motel-mandated machine to refuel your caffeine addiction. The aroma of stale coffee filled the stagnant air, the brew hardly able to produce steam, your lips pursing as you blew over the surface, a force of habit, the taste bitter on your taste buds as you made your way back over to the table, determined to busy yourself by accompanying Castiel’s sweep of the map, your hand extending your mug to the table, the angel’s shift in weight toppling the ceramic. The liquid washed over the ribbons of scuffed plastic as the mug clattered against the table, the dark liquid seeping into the parchment. “Shit!” You cried, hands fluttering about as you frantically scrambled to mop up your mess and salvage the now useless map, but Castiel laid his hand out to stop you, his head tilting in inquisition. You followed his gaze, eyes fixating on one part of the map, surrounded by coffee on all sides, the paper remaining dry. His finger rested on the circle, the last plot of arid material crinkling against his skin.

“They’re congregating here.” He stated, turning from the table, his hands fumbling gracefully with a cellular device, staring at the brightened screen, perplexed by the technology. You grabbed your jacket off the back of your chair, fabric rustling as the cloth shifted, your feet carrying you towards the door. The angel perked up at your movement, tucking the phone back into the pocket of his trench coat, his brow pinched, taking on a stance of authority, his shoulders set firmly. “Dean told us not to leave without him.” he grumbled, voice full of innocent judgement of your seemingly unwise choice of action. You rolled your eyes, your hand closing around the chilled metal doorknob, turning to face the angel, your face leaking confidence through your features, your shoulder slumping at the unnecessary concern.

“We can handle a vampire family reunion, no sweat.” You assured him, turning the knob, the outside air lifting the scent of expired coffee from the room, the odor of decaying foliage tickling along your nose. Your hair rustled in the breeze, your eyebrows raised at your companion. “You’re an angel, I’m a hunter, we’ll be back before our dinner gets here.” You promised, the angel dropping his gaze to the faux wood flooring, his lips pursed in concentrated assessment. After a moment of internal deliberation, he strode forward to follow you out the door.

When you returned, bleeding and bruised worse than you’ve ever been from a hunt, your eye swelling shut from the battery you’d received by the hands of countless vamps, Sam and Dean were hectically packing a full arsenal into their duffel bags, tossing rifles and machetes to each other with an unnerving sort of panicked precision. When the door slammed behind you, they both paused in their efforts, eyes wide, faces masks of hysteria. Sam looked worried, sure, his brow pinched in concern, but Dean… Dean looked absolutely terrified, his fear laying unadulterated against his jaw as he ground his teeth. His mouth was open just slightly, as if he was focusing his hyperventilation into breathable inhales, trying his hardest to keep his semi-calm composure from crossing the lines into insanity. The terror on his face was an uncommon sight, his courageous bravado leaving little room for thoughts of alarm. Sam exhaled loudly when he saw you, obviously relieved you were back. Dean, however, dropped his bag and stormed over to you, eyes wild, pupils dilating as he drew nearer. He towered over you, face close enough to count individual pinpricks of stubble along his chin, his eyes hardening into aggravated gemstones.

"Where the Hell were you?" He spat, mouth downturned, his hands lifting at his sides before slapping against his denim-clad thighs. "I specifically told you to wait until we got back. We were going in together, Y/n, so this,” he gestured to your busted lip, his rage flinching momentarily as he winced, “Didn’t happen.” Dean snarled, his lip pulling up in disgust and fury, eyes blazing down into yours, devouring your confidence. Regardless, you would defend your actions, tooth and nail.

"Cas and I got a lead, Dean, we had to go!" You argued, his head shaking before you could finish your thought. "We got rid of them all. I don’t see what the problem is!" you hissed, glaring at him through your lashes, his sarcastic nodding rubbing against your nerves, your voice surprisingly strong for someone so aggravated. Dean’s green eyes burned with the extent of his irritation, staring wordlessly at you, through you, eyes scanning over your copious amount of injuries, his gaze picking out each mistake in your form, each delayed response, letting your disrepair speak for his argument. Casiel stepped forward, taking your silence as his cue to defend your hunt, joining the argument from his place beside you, his arm brushing against your shoulder.

"The situation has been taken care of, Dean. The threat has been extinguished. You’re overreacting." he whispered, his gentle tone attempting to calm the hunter. Unfortunately, this only made the situation worse. Dean’s attention shifted to the angel, his eyebrows raising at his words. Dean pushed Castiel’s chest, knocking the angel back a few steps. his body colliding with the thin plaster drywall. A framed picture of an Alaskan landscape fell from its hook beside Castiel’s form, the glass shattering on the floor from the force of the impact.

"I am not overreacting! She could have died, Cas. It was your responsibility to keep her out of harm’s way, and you dangled her in front of a nest of vampires with a steak tied to her forehead and a sign saying “eat me!”” Dean yelled, the gravel in his voice increasing as his blood pressure rose. “I mean, look at her Cas! She’s bleeding from every place that’s got blood!” he said, gesturing to you with a straight arm, muscles rippling. “Some babysitter you are. Christ, Cas, don’t quit your day job.” His voice cracked on the last word, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching tightly.

"Dean, I’m fine. Sure, I’m a bit scratched up, but that’s not Cas’ fault. He tried to keep me here, but I was really itching to go. I’m sorry I worried you." You said, weighing your words as they left your tongue, Dean’s head rising to meet your eye. "Look on the bright side; the vamps are all headless and we can take a mini vacation now that our services are no longer required." you smiled, trying to ignore the blood in your mouth, the sting of salt and iron dancing from a gash on the inside of your cheek. Dean’s face softened into one of pain and concern. He crossed back to you, taking slow steps until his chest touched yours.

"Worried is an understatement," he whispered, touching your swollen cheek with just the tips of his fingers, treating you like shattered porcelain, his delicacy admirable, moving your head side to side to assess the damages further. He winced with your flinches. "I’m sorry. Let’s clean you up." Sam coaxed Castiel to the kitchen chairs, helping the juice-less angel bind his broken ribs with thick ace bandages, while Dean dabbed ointment on the gash on your forehead, eyebrows pinched in concentration, his touch ghosting over your split skin with a practiced patience, being as gentle as he could. With his brother and the angel in the other room, Dean took advantage of your limited privacy, his voice scraping out, a barely audible whisper. ”I know I freaked out before, and I’m sorry, but please try not to do that again, at least without dropping me a line. I don’t want to lose you.” He capped the tube of cream and pulled your head to his lips so that he could press his kiss into your hairline, mouth lingering for what seemed like an eternity, his breath displacing stray hairs atop your head.

"I know. I love you." you sighed, your hand closing around his arm, rubbing you appreciation into his skin, his eyes full of light once more.

"Love you too."

Anonymous Asked
QuestionCan I please send in a million votes for part two of "A New Look" holy CRAP that was amazing!! Answer

I NEED IDEAS FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT BEFORE I WRITE IT SO SEND SOME IN, MINIONS. You can find "A New Look" right there. Click away, minions. Feed me your ideas.


Good afternoon, minions! I survived my first day back to school and I only got bullied ONCE in first period (by my former best friend that attack was expected she does it all the fucking time grow up) ahem, but I’m going to try to edit some imagines for reposting, as I’ve been awake for eleven hours and I’m too tired to writing something new… for now. Maybe coffee would help? I’ll get back to you on new material. Expect some Sam, Dean and Castiel, if I end up posting three imagines. Please take into account that I have homework and I’m tired, so I may not post a lot of work today.

"Choose" - Both brothers imagine edited/reposted in which the reader must choose between her two boyfriends, the Winchesters (oops) after unintentionally delving into relationships with the both of them. Fluff, if anything.

"The Great And Powerful Oz" - Charlie Bradbury imagine edited/reposted in which Charlie, upon returning home from Oz, surprises the reader with some long-awaited lovin’… only to be interrupted by a shell-shocked Winchester. Smut.



Due to school being tomorrow and my underestimated (as always) workload for English, I’ll have to cut it short today. Based on how much homework (if any) I have tomorrow, I’ll try to write up the two BFC imagines and edit something for reposting. I’m still not done with my project, so I’ll keep working on that and get back to you all tomorrow! Oh, and I’ll be able to communicate with you all through emails whilst in Hell. Over and out, minions.

Anonymous Asked

Alright, so this won’t work on mobile (I don’t think?) but when you’re posting on a laptop/compter-ish device, you’ll see the toolbar above the typing on a text post, correct? The thin ribbon of options such as add a photo and bullet points, etc. The place where the “bold,” “italic,” and “strike-through” symbols are located, that’s the side you need to focus on. Beside them, you see two transparent figure eights. You will not be able to click on them until you highlight something. Highlight a piece of text (the desired location of the link, for example, the name of an imagine or the name of a video), and the two symbols should lose their transparency. The first option of the two will NOT have a strike through the figure eight. Click this, and it will give you an option of copying a URL down into a little box along with a check-box if you’d like the link to open in another tab. Click “INSERT LINK” when done, and you’ve got a link to whatever you so desire. Hope that helped!