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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 month

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The Stench is REAL: Rotten Eggs + Reeking Weed Factory+ Bad Pipes = "It smells. Bad. VERY bad. VERY VERY bad."

The irony of bridezlla Rachel MEgain Markle kicking up a fuss over a one (1) hour "spectacle" inside the Queen’s "musty" chapel, only to acquire a 1st homebuyer loan for an odorous property.

"It smells like offal that has been rotting in the sun. It makes my stomach churn," a local from the Montecito area reportedly told The Mirror. "I’ve seen lots of homeowners closing their windows when it wafts over."

"According to the New York Post, the smell is wafting over from a nearby bird refuge (which is situated on a 42-acre stretch of saltwater marsh). Specifically, the refuge is the Andrée Clark Bird Refuge, which happens to be one of the largest wildlife refuges in the U.S. Cameron Benson, the City of Santa Barbara's clean water manager, told the Mirror that stagnant water can contribute to the smell, and that the “odor issues are sporadic and sometimes they are worse in some conditions."

"Last year, it was reported the Duke and Duchess of Sussex live just minutes from a legal weed factory base in Santa Barbara, California.

The couple's mansion is just up the road from the 20 large greenhouses full of the plants - leaving the luxury suburb reeking.

Neighbours made a string of complaints, sparking the company to install new “odour control systems”.

The Meghans, Dorito & Markus can get high just by standing outdoors as "...one resident complained that the stench was so bad that they had to pull over while driving along the road."

Imagine taking out a $14.65 million dollar loan on your VERY first home: a 9 bedroom, 16 bathroom mansion and you are CanNOT use your property for business purposes. No Spotify podcasts, NO staged Megflix/Netflix zoom calls, NO staged juggling acts outside the windows, NO book interviews, NO staged instant messages from Beyonce, NO Easter egg hunts, NO cooking shows, NO Variety photo shoots---- only 1 chicken coop interview with NOprah.

The 14,500sq ft, or 1,350sq m, main house sits on 7.4ac of grounds that include a pool, tennis court, tea house and children's cottage.

Money Pit : "The pair have paid a lot less for the property than a previous owner: in May 2009 it sold for more than $25 million. It was put on the market in 2015 for $34.5 million but failed to sell. It was relisted at the start of this year for $16.975 million, selling to the Sussexes for $2.325 million less than the asking price at $14.65 million."

From asks @the-cat-with-the-emerald-tiara-1 Royal Organic Weed "Harry's Choice"

Poll Error: The 4th answer "Money Pit of Montecito"

#The Stench #Environmentally Conscious #save the planet #NIMBY #megxit #Montecito Weed Factory #Montecito Rotten Eggs #Plumbling Issues #Bad Pipes #the invisibles #odor control systems #jam scam #scam jam #money pit #Royal Organic Weed #my polls

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leannareneehieber · 1 year

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(Pictured: Carnations laid in honor of the dead at the sidewalk of NYU's Brown Building. Photo by Leanna Renee Hieber)

On March 25, 1911, a fire broke out on the top floors of the Asch Building. The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire took the lives of 146 people, most of them women and girls. As a NYC tour guide of over 15yrs, I speak about this site with vehemence. Never forget the importance of modern labor laws and the lives lost before we gained these rights. Andrea Janes and I wrote about this site, and its importance in the capacity of residual haunting, in our book A HAUNTED HISTORY OF INVISIBLE WOMEN. Our chapter on the fire, Industrial Monsters, is up on the Boroughs of the Dead blog: https://boroughsofthedead.com/industrial-monsters-ghosts-of-the-triangle-shirtwaist-factory/

Please support union workers and legislation aimed at shoring up worker protections. Honor the dead.

#nychistory #a haunted history of invisible women #on this date #labor history #trianglefire #triangle shirtwaist factory fire #factory #haunting #hauntedhistory #tour guide #new york history #labor law #labor rights #unionize

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dynamokota · 2 months

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Noticing the weird parallels to the Willy Wonka Experience fiasco and the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Broadway musical, down to the laughably cheap sets and scaring children.

Also how the "prize" at the end is literally just a single piece of candy in both versions, lmao

#this -BROADWAY- show had a scene with a room of invisible traps where the actors pretended to dodge things in an empty room #literally the only good part of the Broadway musical was Christian Borle as Wonka #willy wonka experience #the willy wonka experience #charlie and the chocolate factory #broadway musicals

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buscemifan · 2 years

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Randall’s introduction for “Monsters, Inc. - Pinball Panic” (2002). Steve Buscemi, the original voice of Randall, reprises his role in this PC game that came packaged with select collector’s edition DVDs of Monsters, Inc.

#there’s so much to dissect here right.#the way he slithers in. the tossing of the ball. calling the player flipperhead #the establishment of what i can only assume is an arcade inside the monsters inc factory?#the way he turns invisible just to walk off normally.#originals #randall boggs #monsters inc

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monstermoviedean · 1 year

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maybe it's just main character syndrome that i'm bothered by. the assumption that you are not only the main character of your own life, but of others' lives too. the way social media encourages self-obsession. the reassurance that if you don't relate to something, it's not your fault, it's theirs. the suggestion that if something isn't about you, it's not worth the time or energy. the whispers that you are, in fact, more special than everyone else, better-looking, funnier, smarter, more deserving of attention. that everything is, in fact, about you.

#i haven't read it in years but i think about chuck palahniuk's invisible monsters a lot #it's the fucking num-num snack factory isn't it #the lights are so bright and so hot and you're sweating and your smile is plastered on as you serve dogshit canapés to remain relevant

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theliverpudlianuk · 1 year

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🎵 Popular Bristol Jazz band, Run Logan Run, are set to Headline the Amorphic Jazz Club night at The Invisible Wind Factory's Substation this coming Thursday the 9th of March.

🎵 Support for this show comes from folk jazz songstress Annie Gardiner, saxophonist & composer Nick Branton’s new trio venture KIPPERS, and Anti Social Jazz Club on the decks keeping the vibes high till late.

🎵 Read the rest of our article on the website for the full story and information: https://www.TheLiverpudlian.com/post/run-logan-run-set-to-headline-amorphic-jazz-night-at-the-invisible-wind-factory-s-substation

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lime1991 · 1 year

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embarrassingly, reading moon knight fanfic gave me an oc idea

#ok so theres this robot thats called the diddo bot #like ditto like pokemon like how ditto can change its shape... so.#this robot has 6 different ''personalities'' programmed into it for different tasks #uno is the factory setting then its cateye the protective one tracy the persuasive one rex the extreme no fear having one #pidge is shy and can go off the grid/turn the whole bot invisible #and the last one is 6 he doesnt have a nickname.. hes just the smart one who strategizes and knows a lot about computers like a hacker type #and if youre like ''this sounds like watered down DID'' yes its exactly that. i was reading moon knight fanfic.#bc i have ocs with DID who actually HAVE DID. how DID is presented in moon knight is a bit more fantastical #so i wanted to do fantasy DID basically. and i settled on a robot who has a screen that changes faces depending on who it is #and their chest screens have their numbers and can show other members inside like looking into a TV at their inner world #like in teletubbies but instead of babies its like 6 sitting at a computer being like ''yeah i can come out and fix that phone issue''#this isnt meant to make DID into a joke or anything just think like.. crazy jane from DC. how all the alters have diff powers. just like th #and doom patrol like the hbo max show actually does a GREAT job showing jane's DID its fantastic. watch doom patrol season 4 just came out #also part of the joke/pun with the name diddo bot is not only ''ditto'' but did. DIDdo bot. im leaning into the DID part #once again not AS a joke. just a nod like yes... this is just DID but not really.. i know this and you r not crazy for thinking it

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octo-crafts · 7 months

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Will anyone else be in costume tonight when I go out? Probably not, but I don't have any other excuse to dress up this week.

The vest, skirt, and shirt are all the same ones from this post. For the shirt decor, I bought a cheap steampunk choker and dismantled it for parts (one piece was already falling off from where it had been hot glued to the lace) and sewed snaps to one side of each little metal piece. Then, I sewed the other sides to my shirt, and attached the other side of the snaps. This way, I can still button and unbutton my shirt, and if I want to just have a black shirt again/get a better steampunk shirt (i did also buy a brown sheet i'll eventually turn into a shirt, but there wasn't time for that this year) I'll be able to pick out the stitching with relatively little damage to the shirt.

#my projects #craftblr #finished project #sewblr #steampunk #i also picked the choker itself apart into constuent parts #and its construction was BAFFLING #when sewn together it looks like a piece of velvet ribbon layered with lace and gauze #but when you take it apart there's narrower silk ribbon and another piece of lace INSIDE the velvet ribbok #completely invisible but basted to the visible lace and gauze separately from the velvet ribbon #i assume there was a mixup at the factory or smth #but it was sure a surprise to find secret extra lace when i was taking it apart

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marxistcomedy · 9 months

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The term commodity fetishism objectively should bring to mind the way economic actors, both rich and poor, declare themselves powerless before the pressures exerted by the world of commodities (“I’m sorry I have to fire you, but the market told us your services aren’t needed”). It’s conceptually quite similar to Adam Smith’s much-celebrated liberal notion of “the invisible hand of the market,” but rather than benevolent and wise Marx invites us to see this system as a sinister cult. The term commodity fetishism was never meant to scold people for liking material things; it’s not meant to generate guilt after the realization that one craves certain consumer goods (“I’m so bad, but those new shoes sure look pretty”).

Commodity fetishism describes the objective fact that in capitalism we don’t generally relate to each other as humans asking each other to do things, but rather indirectly command each other through commodities. If I go to a restaurant, I don’t beg the cook to make me a meal and the waiter to deliver it, nor do I imperiously threaten them with violence, nor do I cajole them into it. I just buy the meal. The meal itself then appears to command them to move, like a little god! And I in turn must similarly follow the commands of commodities in order to acquire the money to purchase such meals. This is how the factory comes to want to be used, and how the tropical fruit comes to want to find its way to Stockholm. As Marx puts it:

“To [producers], their own social action takes the form of the action of objects, which rule the producers instead of being ruled by them.”

From this perspective, one of the central tasks of communists is to liberate workers not from work or desire itself, but from a generalized lack of decision-making agency in the face of crude economic fetishism. People should decide what people do, not commodities! Looking for alternatives to enslavement by commodities, some look back to feudal, religious, and romantic patriarchal forms of despotism, but socialists look ahead, towards socialism’s multidimensional interaction and negotiation, demotic and democratic.

#red sails #roderic day #essays*

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greenbinchandlinnetbird · 2 years

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That thing when a child is like "hey watch me!" for the 87th time and you do and then they do some dogshit cartwheel and you have to be like "amazing! keep that up and youll be doing flips in no time!" so you can encourage active and enriching behavior even tho its not your kid and youre bored as hell....anyways can't wait for harry styles and kid cudi to destroy more gender norms.

#thank god im invisible here. no discourse #I get we're helping undo by toxic masculinity by encouraging this or w/e #but this is like if we all had to applaud kylie jenner when she discovered cold cereal #so the kardashians would stop bombing kellogs factories or some shit idk

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jellogram · 3 months

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People are so fucking weird about hunting, or any means of gathering meat that isn't invisible to them. I was writing about the Faroe Islands for work today and all the comments on every article I consulted was about how no one should go to the Faroe Islands because they kill whales.

And yes, I can see how the practice is horrifying to witness. They kill so many pilot whales at a time that the shore turns red. But it's also a thousand year old tradition and pilot whales are not considered endangered, or even under threat of becoming endangered. The meat harvested during this practice feeds locals for months.

And everybody writes about it like it's this barbaric thing and the people on the islands must be evil and no one should ever visit the Faroes because doing so supports these horrible barbaric people.

And I'm just like.... do you eat meat? Do you eat meat from the grocery store? Do you believe in boycotting every country that participates in factory farming? If you do, then props for being consistent, but most people don't. The people commenting on how horrible the Faroese people are for doing this are going home and eating hamburgers and hotdogs and would never in a million years suggest boycotting any country that does such things.

I'm not saying the whale hunting isn't frightening to look at, or is 100% morally pure, I just think way too many Europeans and North Americans are very, very quick to judge less common cultures for how they get their meat. And it's incredibly hypocritical.

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frostbitebakery · 2 months

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Loud.

part one two three four five

“Why are you buttering me up, Master?” Obi-Wan signs, taking another careful sip of the cookie shake.

Master Tholme unfolds his hands on the table, cane resting against his leg. “Because I understand that you might not want to participate in this mission,” he signs back. It must be one of those days where he doesn’t want to talk. Obi-Wan understands and lets the silence engulf them. “But the Council and I feel that this is where you need to be.”

“Master,” Obi-Wan signs and bows.

“Hello, Obi-Wan.”

It’s not the first time he’s seen Qui-Gon again after Melidaan’s parting gift almost killed him. Of course they’ve seen each other. Qui-Gon had been there for him while he recovered, had hovered over Master Tholme’s shoulder like a shadow.

“A particularly annoying shadow,” Master Tholme had commented drily back then. “Which is funny, considering.“

Obi-Wan opens his arms and Qui-Gon’s tall frame closes around him. Maybe a queezing too tight but… but that doesn’t matter. “How are you,” he taps on a broad shoulder.

He’s abruptly let go. Not pushed back, thankfully.

“I am well, thank you.” Qui-Gon falls silent.

Obi-Wan has forced himself to stop trying to make the awkwardness between them less uncomfortable by the time he turned sixteen and Master Tholme sat him down to explain why he should let Qui-Gon come to grips with everything that has happened between them on his own until Qui-Gon reaches out to him.

“How are you?” And the caring and heartbreak lingering in Qui-Gon’s eyes is too much.

“I feel prepared to accompany you on this mission.”

It had been Qui-Gon who had taught him sign language in different iterations useful across the galaxy, before and later. Tholme has taught him tap code, after.

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Qui-Gon says, eyes on his long padawan braid.

Meeting Anakin feels… weird in the Force.

“So you don’t talk? Ever?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, amusement crinkling his eyes.

“You don’t want to or you can’t?” the boy asks before his eyes widen. “Both are fine!”

“Cannot,” he signs carefully, settling on an Outer Rim dialect.

“Oh, ok!”

It’s the beginning of a never ending nightmare. Tatooine. Naboo. The desperate attempts to stop a war from happening.

He keeps to the background, inconspicuous and invisible.

Which is the only reason he ends up in the plasma refinery complex.

“It’ll be alright, little one,” Qui-Gon murmurs, gentle fingers wiping tears away before they reach the mask. “Just squeeze my hand.”

“Master,” he taps, hiccups threatening to disrupt something in his throat.

“Take care of the boy.”

So he does.

He brings Anakin back to the Temple, watches over his nightmares in silence.

He kneels as Master Tholme cuts his braid.

He explains to the Council what he thinks.

Anakin is bright. Smart and a beacon in the Force. He’s older than usual, granted. But his connection to the Force is palpably vast and potentially dangerous if he isn’t trained to handle that connection. He’s safer in the Temple where they can watch over him and teach him.

The Council agrees.

He introduces Anakin to Depa.

Her dry wit has the boy relaxing. Her no-nonsense attitude is a guiding light, a steady framework he can lean on and count on.

Depa delights in showing him the Temple, the opportunities to learn and try out new experiences.

Shadow work piles up and suddenly Obi-Wan is running around the galaxy trying to put out fires.

When he’s slumped in the back door of an abandoned factory in the shady part of an Outer Rim planet, struggling to breathe and feeling like he’s dying, lightsaber in a death grip, he makes the decision to return to the Temple. The mask has to change or he will die because he is out of breath. Unacceptable.

The technicians look at him chagrined and apologetic, explain that this is all they can do at the moment, maybe he can take it a bit easier?

“No, you need to adjust the valves on—“ a small voice peeps up from behind his shoulder.

Obi-Wan has been aware Anakin is clinging to his back like a monkey bear. He’s ignored the looks he’s gotten on the way to the tech complex.

“Have at it, then,” he signs.

Anakin looks at him like he’s personally chosen every star in the galaxy as he hands over the mask.

“An order.”

“A strong suggestion,” Mace corrects.

“Call it what it is,” Obi-Wan signs, cutting through the air with his hands he’s so furious. “Chancellor Palpatine has no business wanting to spend time with Anakin.”

Mace sighs, leans back in the chair. “I’m aware, Obi-Wan.” He taps his fingers against the armrest but he’s releasing energy, focusing his thoughts, not code. “How are you feeling?”

The renewed esophagus has him out of the mission count for a bit yet, he’s slowly weaned off the artificial nutrition. Overall, he’s starting to feel a bit restless.

“Perhaps you want to enjoy Coruscant’s scenery while you’re here?” Mace asks, a twinkle in his eye. “Though I beg you to not get into trouble,” he adds with a frown. “Too much trouble, I mean. I forgot for a second who I was talking to.”

Spying on the Chancellor is not on Bant’s list of approved activities but what she doesn’t know…

Obi-Wan touches his chin and brings his hand forward.

“So you can either sign in the dark or write tap code with these gloves. You can adjust the brightness and still sneak around.”

“Thank you, Ani.” It’s one of the best gifts he’s ever had the honor of receiving. It solves a lot of problems on missions. He hugs the boy close and feels swept up in the thoughtfulness. “I don’t sneak.”

“You totally do and it’s so wizard!”

“You were supposed to be my Master!”

#my wips #loud au #mute!obi wan #jedi shadow!obi wan #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

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The Batfam competes to infiltrate the most inaccessible places just to prove they can (and to cause chaos). Which place does each family member choose, and how do they get in?

Dick: contorts himself into a suitcase to save money on plane fare

Jason: tire irons his way into Bruce's heart

Tim: sneaks into the League of Assassins

Damian: breaks into a factory farm to free the animals

Duke: turns invisible to sit in on Justice League meetings

Cullen: catfishes his way into an exclusive Discord server

Stephanie: fakes an acceptance letter to Ivy University

Cassandra: squeezes through Black Mask's vents

Barbara: hacks the CIA from the comfort of her bed

Harper: drills through a military submarine

Carrie: forges a ticket to Wonka's candy factory

Kate: picks the lock to Alfred's cookie dough storage

Alfred: commits identity theft to get into the Kremlin

Selina: slides into Bruce's DMs

Bruce: puts on a bald cap and takes over LexCorp

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methoughtsphantom · 4 months

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DP x DC

not me thinking about imaginary scenarios of ten year old Tim Drake in the ghost zone (pariah’s castle)

where Tim thinks it’s strangely soothing that despite being the only one whose steps connect to the ground, there’s not that eerie silence that befell drake manor

strange blob creatures chitter softly and nip at his hair and swooshes and wisps of wind betray the presence of an invisible ghost

which after following he realizes it’s almost like he’s trailing after the black dark shadow that is batman again

which gives him the idea that, maybe, just this one time, he can play the part of robin

that in mind Tim makes out a game of sneaking to the side of ghosts that look like they’re brooding and if they can spot him he loses

most just grunt in response (very in character) while others fuss over him and ask questions which Tim uses to infodump

he also politely asks the ghost that always asks him how he’s doing to instead say the word “report”

(the ghost looks at him weirdly but humors him and besides the answer would be the same anyways)

Tim also(!!)

gets on the case of why the walls lack tangibility when he is the one leaning on them (he doesn’t live down the time he wanted to look cool only to fall through the wall)

hyperfixates on how gravity works in the ghost zone because he couldn’t do a skateboard trick he has pulled off many many times and he’s salty about it

tries to figure out where they are getting human food from (cause it’s hot enough to be homemade but also there’s no kitchen —so how could it be) (also he wants coffee)

finds out the dude that often gives him a side eye when he finds that Tim knows how to do something (math homework), is next in line for the throne and yet doesn’t have a single “mingle and talk people up” bone in his body. (despite it his networking is a solid 7/10)

gets a ghost horse to adopt him what

discovers pretty quickly that there are rooms to which he can’t phase through (a.k.a. he’s not allowed entry) to which he begrudgingly backs off even though that stands in his way of doing a very thorough layout™ of the place (robin would)

sulks over the lack of extreme sports in the place

(Danny takes him to the Far Frozen where they go tire sliding in the snow and where tim learns how to use a skateboard skate and also that ghost ice cream is just as good as normal ice cream)

sulks again cuz he caught a common cold

also because there’s no sun or moon poor Timmy’s already screwed sleep schedule gets more messed up to the point no one knows when or where he will fall asleep

(ghosts find him in the most unhinged of places with a signature purple cloak draped over him every. single. time.)

overall, be a menace

see-> the time he threatened to build ghost weapons he’d somehow memorized the blueprints of cause Danny wouldn’t let him visit the radium girls factory but yes the renaissance period

see-> that time he went through the whole ghost energy and how to work with it book section in the library and half an hour later had a prototype of a star wars laser beam made

(note: bribing only works for hot chocolate, not for letting him keep cool-looking guns)

just tim having the time of his life

clockwork being no help at all (the ghost loves being a cryptid)

and danny trying not to get attached while he progressively gets more concerned over this chaos child he emotionally adopted as his little brother

(to fit canon cause i want it to this would just be until Danny finds the dimension little Timmy is from, then they can safely yeet the child back to the moment he first went missing)

anyways before anyone knows it’s been three months

#tim drake #danny phantom #dp x dc au #batman #dc #dp x dc #danny fenton #like this little guy practiced with ghosts #which don’t breathe #tim comes back to gotham and can sneak up to batman better than an assassin #don’t make sound on the floor if they don’t want #and have heightened senses #you are gonna tell me that in all the bats career they never saw the little tiny child that followed them around with a camara??#whelp now you got an explanation as to why #also upon realizing Danny didn’t know anything about how to mingle Tim who has been going to galas for years self appoints himself #to teach him don’t frett #little headcannons in my own au #this in my head is fic #it’s more extensive but it was getting long #i was going through some mental hoops to find the correlation between his hobby and tim this time deciding to be robin #instead of the shadow chasing AFTER Batman #but basically it’s because this time tim had someone to make of Batman #he’s not alone #and he’s a kid #he wants to play #and now that he can play With someone of course Timmy is gonna chose his hero

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crushedbyhyperbole · 2 months

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Cherry Pie Kiss

Slice Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options; with your life on the line, Dean makes a call you're not happy with. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he brings a peace offering.

Haven't read Part One? - Catch up here.

Words: ~3.5k

A/N: This is part 2 of 3 of what started as a short one shot, but someone asked for another slice of pie so I'm here to deliver. There isn't any smut in this part (its all going to be in part 3 😂) but there are graphic depictions of gore, violence and death which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is female but generic, and obviously has feelings but is kind of stuck in this hate to love him type thing which carries on from part 1. I hope you enjoy the read and are ready for the goonfest and gratuitous smut coming in part 3.

Warnings: gore, death and gruesome depictions of canon-type violence, profanity as standard for my work, bit of angst, bit of fluff right at the end.

***Minor do not read or interact***

Dean Winchester. You hate him. His saviour complex, his unwavering strength, the way he’s so damn selfish though not in the ways that count… But boy, can he wear a pair of jeans. Phew-ee!

You hate that you can’t stop looking at him, leaning on the jukebox of the bar you’re in, feeding it quarters in exchange for some feel-good tunes. Ugh! Asshole!

Tonight had been a tough night. Even Sam was feeling the burn. Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options, the three of you had played a Hail Mary and it had paid off. Those damn vamps had just kept on coming. Sam was down and you were in a bad way with what felt like a hoard of those fuckers piling into the abandoned factory to make a meal out of you all. Starting out, you had all been so sure that you had this little group in the bag but, as per usual with these goddamn things, the plan didn’t pan out.

Dean had dragged you and a semi-conscious Sam into a tight space between the machines. One way in, one way out. You were both toast if you were found and of course you would be found; the vamps had your scent.

Groggily, you watched dean uncoil something from his pocket and string it across the opening at about neck height.

“Guitar string.” He winked at you as if this idea was the best idea he had ever had and should have been plan A from the start.

“We’re fucking bait?” You hissed furiously. No, surely not? Dean would never use his brother as bait. Would he? “Goddamn asshole!” You snarled with as much vitriol you could muster between your gasping breaths and painful ribs.

He just gave you that weary look he had been wearing for the past hour and shrugged his shoulders before pulling out his machete and hiding himself out of sight. “Get ready.”

You brandished your blade and hauled yourself to your feet, ready to fight. There was no point wasting any more breath insulting him. If you got out of this alive, you would have plenty of opportunity to call him all the names under the sun. IF you got out alive.

The first vamps that found you came rushing in, right down the tight alley framed by the large machinery and with a sharp twang, Dean’s trap garrotted them straight through, taking their heads clean off. Of the next three, the wire took the first two but the third approached cautiously despite you calling him to come get you.

Dean ran out from his hiding place and attacked the vamp from behind, slashing at the guy’s thick neck twice in order to cut all the way through. As the body fell you saw why the vamp had stopped – the trap had remnants of flesh and blood along it from its previous victims making it easier to see. You wiped your sleeve along it to clean the bits of hanging flesh off making it almost invisible again. Dean gave you an impressed nod.

Another two vamps fell to the wire but the last one got snagged as she fell, snapping it and making it useless. Well, it was a good idea while it lasted, you thought.

It took you two a little while longer to attract the remaining few vamps who obviously knew something was up. Sam was in no fit state, still groaning on the ground. You were weak and in a lot of pain but you kept swinging your blade, struggling to breathe let alone stand.

The fight had been brutal and both you and Dean were covered in blood by the time it was over. You were on your knees, slumped over a vamp you had had to hack into to remove the head, your blade surely blunt by now. You were ready to close your eyes and give up when Dean pulled you to your feet.

“C’mon,” he said gruffly, “up and at’em.” Helping you out over the pile of decapitated bodies, he hauled a now mostly conscious Sam through the mess.

You had made it to the Impala and, for once, Dean hadn’t grumbled about getting blood on Baby’s seats but throwing a couple blankets down instead. Sam slumped in the front while you crawled in the back, weary and sore. Your eyes met Dean’s in the rearview mirror but yours flicked away immediately, unable to look at him without getting angry. When you looked back so did he, like he knew you’d be looking, and held on, asking if you were okay without actually asking. If he really cared he wouldn’t have used you as bait.

You let your head fall back onto the seat and closed your eyes frustrated by his dichotomy.

After a while on the road, Dean turned the radio on, breaking the silence which opened the door for you to say what was on your mind. Sam hadn’t been bothered one bit by the fact that Dean had used you both as bait, but you were furious.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Dean snapped, frustrated by your anger.

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and a whole long list of other people. Aint nothin’ new.”

Around five miles out of Crocker, Missouri, Dean pulled into a truck stop complex which had a convenience store, gas station, diner, a small motel and a dive bar. The dawn was still hours away and the need for a couple of hours sleep in a comfortable bed was showing on all three of you. Sam was the cleanest so he made the arrangements; two rooms because there was no way you were sharing a room with that asshole after what he did. You were just as likely to fuck him out of anger as fight him at that point.

You used the showers in the truck stop to clean off all the blood and get into some clean clothes, relishing in the feel of the warm water and decent water pressure. You felt a slight pang of guilt that someone would likely be picking vamp chunks out of the drain in the next couple of days but it passed quickly, it probably wasn’t the worst thing these truck stop attendants had seen over the years.

Refreshed by the shower and a take-out burger from the diner, you decided you needed a drink or five, which sounded good to Sam and Dean – you all deserved it.

So, here you are, several drinks in, pounding another tequila shot, trying not to stare at Dean Winchester’s ass while Sam bids you goodnight and takes himself off to one of the two rooms you had paid for at the run-down motel on site.

It seems as if you’re not the only one with an eye for a firm ass in tight Wranglers; a scantily clad barfly sidles up to Dean and strokes her hand down his back as he plugs his final song into the jukebox. When her hand reaches that ass of his, he straightens and turns, grinning at her with that look you know means he’s going to ride her all the way to dawn.

You can’t watch this. You don’t have the stomach for it, not tonight. You pound your remaining two shots and eat the lime slice, peel and all. Then you’re up off your stool and pushing past Dean and his lady friend, and out into the night where the air cools your heated skin but not your confusing emotions.

In the second of the two rooms, you look at your bruised face and neck in the mirror. No wonder he didn’t look twice at you, you’re a mess. It shouldn’t pain you like it does to think of him with another woman. He asked once and you said no, so that is the end of that. Plus, you hate him, can’t forget that. Still, it gives you some small satisfaction that he now has no empty room to take his new friend to so he’ll have to bang her in Baby, on the bloody blankets. With a spiteful smirk you flop on the bed and fall into a light disturbed sleep.

A loud knock on the door wakes you up with a start. At first you don’t know where you are. So used to your room in the bunker, you had almost forgotten what it feels like to sleep that first night in a new place, never truly resting for fear of attack. It’s only an hour or so since you left the bar and you’re groggy from the tequila and from the waking.

You don’t turn on the lights when you go to the peephole, looking out with your pistol muzzle pushed up against the flimsy wood door. Dean sways on the other side, his head turned as though he’s listening.

“Sam’s in the other room,” you call, clicking the safety back onto your pistol.

“I know,” he grumbles, “open up. I got something.”

“It can wait until the morning.”

“Can’t wait,” it sounds muffled, “owwww!” he hisses.

“What the hell,” you sigh, sliding the chain and turning the handle.

Dean stumbles in with his mouth shaped like an “O” as he slides two bowls onto the unit next to the TV, shaking his hands afterwards as if burned. You close the door and engage the chain out of habit.

“Got you something.” He grins goofily, obviously much more drunk than you had left him in the bar, and you wonder what happened to the barfly. Surely the womanizing Dean Winchester hadn’t banged and dropped her in that short a time?

“It’s two in the morning, Dean.” You wipe a hand down your tired face, lifting your eyes again to see him handing you one of the bowls from the diner.

“Peace offering.” He says with a smile as he pushes the hot ceramic into your hands, his eyes glistening with mirth and the effects of all the whiskey he shot back earlier.

You look at what he brought you and your heart almost stops. It’s a steaming hot piece of cherry pie, drizzled in a large puddle of vanilla custard just the way you like it. You look at his, with his tiny dollop of cream just the way he likes it, and you can’t help but smile.

“Why?” You ask as you sit on the edge of the bed with him in the chair by the TV, the bowl in your hand, spoon loaded with goodness.

He finishes chewing a piece of the hot pie, sucking in air to cool it in his mouth before he replies. “I know you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you admit too quickly but the words are out now whether he believes them or not.

“And I know it’s my fault,” he looks at you with those eyes, “I shouldn’t have made things awkward from day one. So, I’m sorry about that.”

“Thank you.” You never thought you would ever hear Dean Winchester apologise, or what you would say in return.

“I didn’t know how to take the rejection,” he sighed heavily, “especially not from someone I have this amazing chemistry with, y’know? But that’s on me.”

What great chemistry did Dean think he had with you? All the years you had known him, you’d harboured a bit of a crush on him but he always acted like you were one of the guys. When you two crossed paths it had felt effortless to slip into the old camaraderie but he treated you like a sister, a fellow hunter, until you had shown up on his radar this time covered in blood and all kinds of messed up and he’d gotten all pissed and… ohhhh.

“You were right all those years ago when you said hunters shouldn’t get close,” he continues, “I should’ve listened and never asked that question.”

You remember the conversation clearly. It was something you had said because you thought it was what he wanted to hear from you. Younger and more naïve, you had thought that what he wanted was for you to be like one of the guys so you had said the words and hoped that you could remain where you were with him, always close but never at risk of blowing everything. Over time you had begun to regret that decision, and as soon as he started acting like an asshole it had been easy to trade the feelings you had for ones of resentment.

“I wish I never said it. I didn’t realise what I would be losing when I asked.” He looks at you again, beseechingly. “Do you think we can start again? Be friends like before?”

You think about it for a moment but the more you think the surer you are that you can’t go back. You can’t know these things and have these experiences and go back to the beginning.

“No, Dean, I don’t think we can.” Your words are soft but the devastation in his eyes is sharp and painful.

You stand, placing your untouched bowl on the bedside table, and walk towards him. His bowl is empty now, but there’s a little piece of pie left on his spoon when you take it from him. He’s confused but follows your every movement with a mixture of sadness and reverence.

The pie is sweet on your tongue and the way his eyebrows raise when your lips close around the spoon brings a cheeky glint to your eyes. You sit on his knee, wrapping one arm around his shoulders while the other pulls the now clean spoon past your lips. You swallow with a sigh. His hands go to your hip and thigh to steady you as he looks up at you.

You dip your head slowly and he tilts up to meet you, his eyes flicking between yours and your mouth. He tastes sweet just like you do when you lay your lips on his, a soft kiss that is both the testing of waters and the soothing of sharp emotions. He squeezes your thigh tighter for a brief moment and you pull back to see the questioning look on his face.

“But you said…”

You shush him with a finger laid over his lips. “I know what I said.”

“Then what did you mean?” He swallows hard, licking his lips nervously afterwards as if you’re about to pull the rug out from under him.

“I wish I’d said yes.”

#dean winchester x reader kiss #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #spn #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester hurt/comfort #dean winchester angst #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfiction #cloudy's writing

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ninten-draw · 11 months

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The Tundra Era

In the beginning of the world, there was nothing but cold tundra. Unlike most planets who have a warm magma filled core, the planet of rainworld has a cold void fluid core, with the only natural heat coming from the sun. The world is a freezing tundra with almost nightly blizzards, but not without life, as some creatures have adapted to its freezing ways.

The Ancients Era

Soon, an intelligent species forms form the barren wastelands, known simply as the ancients. The ancients in their form resembled closely to aquatic fishes and insects of our world. They too adapted to their frozen environment, living in caves and underwater homes at first, and then building their own homes and citadels. At this time, they were unaware of their eternal life.

The Karmic Era

The great problem has now been made aware to the ancients, and thus the karmic religion is born. At this time only the first five karma symbols are made known to the ancients, and they do everything in their power to rid themselves of these urges, with very limiting success. It’s around this time that the ancients don their signature masks and adorned clothing as well.

Void Fluid Discovery

While drilling and constructing a train system, the ancients come across stranger structures, indicating a civilization before them. Engineers are soon replaced with paleontologists to dig and study these stranger remnants. As they continue to dig, some start having strange dreams and hallucinations of moving stars, strange worms, an empty void, until they come across the depths, and subsequently the void fluid is discovered

Void Fluid Revolution

With the introduction of the void fluid, ancient society flourishes, now they have a proper way to die. Time is spent expanding the depths, building statues and making sacrifices to the void. Their technology also expands exponentially, now able to make large factories and farms to provide for themselves. The next several karma symbols are also made known to the ancients. However echos are soon discovered in the world, fearful that the void may not have been the perfect solution they were looking for, the ancients seek another solution. This leads to the creation of the iterator, whose purpose is to find a solution to the great problem without the void. During this time, a new boom in the ancients is found, more iterators are made because of their many uses. During this time purposed creatures are brought to life to assist the ancients and iterators. It is also known during this time, that the ancients created the shelters and pathways, a place for creatures to rest in and navigate across the world that had become habituated with urban development. The world is now warmer, with the memories of a cold tundra seeming more like a dream than anything. However despite all the good times, the void is not stupid, and it certainly is displeased that the ancients who once worshipped it were now seeking another solution

The Mass Ascension Event

The great ascension was an interesting, and frightening time. Iterators noticed how more and more ancients were going to ascend, and noted how their reasonings were barely understandable. Other ancients noted how the ones going to ascend seemed almost robotic. The more frightening thing, ancients who previously had no desire in ascension, would find themselves seeking, almost yearning it, the next cycle. More and more ancients were going to ascend, and less were born. The remaining ancients during the last few years of their kind were terrified, it seemed as though every one of their kind was infected with an invisible ailment forcing them to ascend, wether they were ready or not. Some stuck by the iterators begging them to prevent them from leaving to ascend. Others traveled outside of the iterators can, to the corners of the world away from any depths entrances. Any efforts were for naught however, as the remaining ancients went to ascend as well, leaving none behind.

Post Ancient Era

Many years passed after the ancients disappeared, and the world had adapted to the structures that they had left behind. The animals were now used to the unnatural shelters and pathways that the ancients had originally constructed for them, and the iterators who were once tasked with finding a solution to the great problem now mostly did their own thing, including helping lesser creatures on their way to ascension. The slugcat campaigns also take place in this era.

Shelter Destruction

Not everything lasts forever, and this includes the ancients’ constructions. The iterators collapse due to entropy, the world losing its main heat source and being plunged into an icey torrent of blizzards. The shelters that the ancients once made to shield creatures from precipitation, also fell from the constant blizzards and entropy, leaving the creatures who once depended on them alone to brave the elements. A mass extinction follows these events, causing creature, both inorganic and natural, to die out or seek ascension to escape their miserable circumstance.

Everything Must Go

Soon, the void itself releases from its previous underground home, to pull the remaining memories and remnants of this civilization down to the depths and rubicon.

The Tundra Era again

Thus, with the remainder of the ancients gone, the world is left an endless tundra once more, but soon life will start to evolve to this cold wasteland, and soon, an intelligent species of aquatic descent will walk upon the ground, and perhaps, like the civilization before them, seek a way out of this world

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