I am a Coca-Cola employee. I’m not really a musician, and so needless to say, two years ago, two, three years ago, I’m this nobody from nowhere in the middle of this small town in Minnesota who has a dream that’s so unreachable… I’m lost, and I’m stuck in this world I can’t get out of. And so, two years ago, if you were to have said to me, “Hey Adam, you can quit your job and you can make music, do one thing in this world that you’re good at. You can make music and you can dream.” And suddenly, by writing these kind of whimsical songs, suddenly you have vehicles to go places that the four walls of your city won’t let you go. So… so it all comes down to… for a skinny little punk from nowhere with a moose hat on right now, I never thought in a million years I’d be here or I’d be allowed to do what I’m most passionate about, ‘cause I’m not good at anything else in this world except for music. So to give me this chance, I can’t thank you enough. God bless you guys.

I love Owl City because he never changes.
And my heart will not change.
We love you, Adam.
Recapping the X-Files

So, a long, long time ago, there was a little show called The X-Files, and a website called Television Without Pity. The esteemed Jessica (one half of the fuggirls), recapped the last two seasons of this little show (and a few random early episodes) with wit, intelligence, and a firm sense that this show was… Not as good as it used to be. Those recaps are here: http://www.brilliantbutcancelled.com/show/the-xfiles/recaps/

Now, back in 2007-2008, a few brave, intrepid TWOP forum members took it upon themselves to fill in the blanks with their own recaps. Those, archived to this day by the wonderful foxestacado, can be found in the above link.

If anyone out there is interested in picking up this torch and recapping their favorite episodes, that would be awesome! Maybe we can get them all done by January, who knows!

Whaddya say, fandom? Are you up for it?


Words: 1,439
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: Courtesy of traffic near London, this is out today! I actually have 2 requests relating to sammy and the impala and I was going to combine them BUT if I keep them separate we get double the fluff on different days! Good plan? I thought so too.

Request: Could you write a Sam x reader where the reader is on a stake-out with the brothers and she and Sam cuddle in the back seat of the impala while Dean hums along to the radio? And maybe the reader hums some too before falling asleep on Sam?


It had been a long day. When you actually worked it out, you’d been on your feet for nearly 9 hours solid and the more you thought about it, the more you wished you hadn’t worked it out in the first place. It was about 9:30pm by now and yet still your day wasn’t over.

The demons you were tracking hadn’t been in town for long, but they’d caused enough trouble to pop up on your radar straight away. The day had been spent gathering information around town but now came the fun part: waiting. Staring at the door of an empty suburban house was mind numbing at the best of times, but after a few sleepless nights, it was a struggle to keep both eyes open at once.

Your head ached, your calves were tight from wearing “sensible” FBI footwear and in general, your limbs felt like lead. But you had a job to do, and so it would be done.

Sam had been the saviour for this stake out, for starters, he banned Dean from chilli burritos - no one needed that in a confined space - but secondly, he had hacked the wifi of a nearby house. Stupid though it may sound, having Sam as your own personal Wifi hotspot hacker was a miracle in times like these. Obviously, you were all making sure to watch the front door, but it be able to do that whilst also doing more research for other things was multitasking at its finest.

For this reason, you had told Sam to sit in the back with you, maximum internet help… that’s what you convinced him anyway. Dean saw through it instantly and gave you a knowing eyebrow raise but you poked your tongue out and carried on. It was no secret you liked the youngest Winchester, not to the rest of the world anyway, it was just Sam who was seemingly oblivious.

“So they could be anything from 10 minutes to 10 hours,” Dean muttered, settling down in the front seat, “What music d'ya want?”

“What? We get a choice?” Sam scoffed.

“No, Y/N gets a choice,” Dean smirked as he watched his brother’s face change to annoyance in the mirror. “One time offer, sweetheart, going once… going twice-”

“Van Halen,” you said quickly, “not fussed which album, please and thanks.”

“A wise choice,” Dean smiled, reaching for the box of tapes, “see Sammy, this is why I let Y/N choose, she has good taste.”

Sam grumbled something about not turning it up too loudly and shuffled to get comfy in the seat beside you. The back seat wasn’t really designed for someone with legs of his length and he was struggling to fold them into the confined space. It was easy for you, it may as well have been a sofa, but the hulk of a man next to you was clearly flustered.

“Sam, quit fidgeting,” Dean snapped as he pressed play on the first track.

“I was just-” Sam started but stopped when you motioned for him to spread out. “You sure?” he said, eyeing the small space you’d left yourself with.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just sit sideways, it’ll be fine,” you said with a shrug. “Get comfy, we could be here a while.”

Sam gave you a gracious smile and shuffled around until he was sat across the seats, his knees bent across the middle seat so that his boots weren’t in your space.

The three of you sat quietly for a little while and you began to flick through the Internet. You probably should have been doing research but you just couldn’t keep a thought straight in your head. After flicking backwards and forwards between the same few pages, rereading sections repeatedly and half dozing off into them, you decided to let yourself rest for a few minutes. Dean, who was still on first door watch, was just lightly tapping out the rythym guitar with his fingers on the wheel, he seemed utterly oblivious to anything other than the house and the music. It about figured, he was in his own little world at night when the music was on. You risked a look over at Sam who appeared to just be reading an ebook and decided that no one was really going to miss you dozing off for a quick few minutes.

Tucking your legs up, careful not to jog Sam, you nestled into the car door and closed your eyes. You took a deep breath and tried to make yourself drift off. The car door dug uncomfortably into your side but you were too tired to care.

“Y/N?” Sam said in a soft voice.

“Yeah?” You said, cautiously opening an eye.

“That seriously looks uncomfortable, do you want me to move?” He muttered, nodding to your tucked up legs.

“I’m alright,” you hummed, letting your eyes drift shut again.

He said nothing for a few seconds before you felt the seat shift at the side of you.

“Honestly, I’m fine Sam,” you mumbled, earning a small huff from him. Truthfully, your left foot had gone numb but the idea of moving just seemed like too big a problem to bother caring about for now.

“Look, you could, er, lean on me?” He said in a low voice, before quickly adding, “I mean, we could both lay our legs out a bit more then.”

You opened your eyes up and looked over at the look he was giving you. He almost looked sorry to be waking you, but there was also a pleading there, like he just wanted to help… Damn those big brown puppy eyes.

“Okay then,” you sighed, “how’s this going to work?”

You uncurled from how you had been and put your feet on the floor to stand up a little bit, as you did, Sam stretched his legs out over the seat under you and you looked up, confused.

“Alright, nice idea giant, now where do I sit?” You grumbled, trying not to bang your head on the exceedingly low roof.

Sam didn’t say anything, but just sort of shuffled to make a small bit of space, flopping one leg off the seat and one across the back.

“So where am I meant to sit?” You asked awkwardly.

“Oh, I, um-” Sam blushed and reached over for his coat still slung in the front seat. He folded it into a makeshift pillow and rested it on his front. You took a breath and clambered onto the seat, crashing down unceremoniously with your back against Sam’s chest. He coughed a little as you winded him, but he just chuckled and let out an, “oof-”

“Smoothly done,” Dean muttered from the front seat, not even bothering to turn around.

The pair of you shuffled around until your head was snuggly into his side and you laid down resting against his leg. If you weren’t so tired, you’d be having a mild heart attack at how close you’d entwined with him, but all you felt now was completely relaxed.

“You alright there?” Sam asked quietly.

You just hummed in response and nodded your head into his balled up jacket. He tentatively rested the arm not holding his phone against your waist, he hovered there for a moment but when you didn’t flinch away, he let it relax and you could feel him let out a small sigh. With a small smirk, you let your eyes drift closed and you slowly felt your breathing begin to deepen and match Sam’s.

The only sound you could really hear was the music quietly in the background, still on your choice, the chords of “can’t stop loving you” rang out softly over the impala’s speakers. You felt yourself starting to drift off as you heard Dean absentmindedly humming along, voice low and very slightly off-key. For all the mayhem of the hunting life, moments of complete peace like this were what made it worthwhile. As you felt the waves of sleepiness wash over you, you felt Sam’s fingers lightly tracing patterns on your hip in time to the music.

The last thing you heard before you completely dozed off, was a hushed conversation between Sam and Dean. You couldn’t pick up what was said you only vaguely noticed it at all because of the vibrating of Sam’s chest again your hand, now balled slightly in the fabric of his shirt. A soft chuckle in response to his brother and a light kiss pressed into your hair was all you needed to know that you were happy, but more importantly, you felt safe in Sam’s strong arms.

anonymous asked:

All opinions on guinea pigs?


Sam: You know Mandy has a guinea pig, right? She’s awesome. They’re pretty cute. Especially Caribou. Yeah, Mandy named her Caribou. And yes, jokes have already been made about me being a Moose and being related to Caribou. Ha. Ha.

Dean: Really though, she is pretty cool. She even bosses the dogs around. It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. She bites them in the face if they’re sniffing or nudging her around too much. So, I’m definitely onboard with guinea pigs. Freakin’ awesome! Also, Cas is obsessed with them…

Cas: I do like guinea pigs. 

Dean: *shaking head* He always has to hold her when we’re over here… Like all. the time. It’s ridiculous.

Cas: She likes the attention, Dean.

Dean: Does that make you feel important?

Cas: She likes the attention!

Dean: Whatever you say…

When I’m sad I have schmoopy moose parties because it’s impossible to descend fully into the pits of depression hell when you have stupid crap on your head.

This is my giant moose. His name is Moose. I won him for selling a couple hundred boxes of Girl Scout cookies when I was in middle school. He’s my bro.

I’m an adult. I pay taxes and own my car. I have very serious coping mechanisms.

Return The Favor

Characters: Dean x Reader
Words: 1153
Requested by Anonymous
Summary: The reader and Dean are on a hunt. He gets in a bind and she comes to the rescue, getting hurt in the process. Dean feels terrible and wants to make it up to her.

“I can’t believe Sam stayed home,” you said as you and Dean drove toward the house haunted by the ghost of an old man who had a tendency to kill whoever walked into the house. It was going to be great.

           Dean shrugged, “Pretty sure he was giving us some time to spend together,” he said. You and Dean had just started being in a relationship. You had known the guys for a couple of years, but it took you and Dean a while to succumb to your feelings for each other.

           “That’s really nice of him, but I’ll kick his butt if we needed him on this hunt,” you laughed.

           “I’ll protect you,” Dean said, slipping his arm around you.

           “How sweet,” you teased.

Keep reading


What annoys me with some of the people on here…

Oh you’re like better then so and so
You’re the perfect so and so

I’ve seen so many posts going to other blogs - oh you’re the perfect prussia, no one else is as good as you- Like guys that really hurts…

i know you dont direct it at others but other people see this and it hurts them

it makes them feel shit. 


Use things like “i really like your cosplays” 
or “You have a great concept on the character”

Where the fuck are the Winchesters?!

Author: Not moose :D

Reader gender: Female

Character: Sam

Warnings: Cussing, some graphic language. Fluff.

Posted on: spnfanficskatoli.

“What. The. Fuck!” You yell at the screen of your lap top.

“No. No. Oh HELL no!” You add just a little louder, while shutting you lap top and scooting to the edge of the bed.

Just as you are about to stand, the sound of heavy boots stomping up the stairs stops you. Bobby then slams open the door to your room.

The first thing you notice is the wild, startled look in his eyes. You cover your mouth to hold back a laugh. He looks like a crazy old man. Well, more crazy than usual.

“Where’s the fire Bobby?” You joke. To your surprise, he lets the joke go. He scans the room for any sort of danger before his eyes land on yours. When he determines that there is no harm being inflicted, he visibly relaxes.

As he goes to sit on the hope chest at the foot of your bed, he lets out a long sigh of relief.

“Girl. What are you yellin’ for? Tryin’ to give an old man a heart attack? I can’t take that kind of stress you damn idjit.” He finishes by standing up and getting into Sam’s ‘secret’ stash of alcohol that is stored in a hidden drawer in the desk pushed up by the window.

“I was watching this stupid birthing video Sam made me promise I’d watch.” You and Bobby both shiver, and scrunch up your faces in a way that says “I smell some foul shit”.

“Yea. It was horrible. Bobby,” you whine
“there were close ups of other people vaginas. What the fuck. I don’t want to see that.” Bobby nods his head in agreement.

“Then it went into detail about what kind of fucked up shit your vagina goes through while pushing out the kid. How is that ok? It can’t be natural.” You look straight into Bobby’s eyes with a mix of horror and pure panic in your own.

Bobby gets up then, sets the alcohol on the chest, and comes to sit beside you on the bed that hasn’t been made since Sam and Dean left for a hunt in Northern Maine 4 days ago. Sam was the one who was OCD about the bed being made. Your philosophy is “we’re just going to sleep in it again. Why bother?” That always managed to ruffle Sam’s feathers.

You look down at your lap, or rather, you would be looking at you lap if your almost 9 month pregnant belly wasn’t blocking it.

You hear Bobby sigh, and then feel one of his arms wrap around your shoulders and the other rub soothing circles on your belly.

“Y/N, I know you aren’t worried about the shit that goes on… down south.” You laugh at the choice of words and how hard it was for him to just get that out.

“Don’t laugh ya idjit. Listen would ya? I’m tryin’ to be serious and you’re makin’ it damn hard.”

You look up then and smile at Bobby. He returns it with a soft smile before getting back into his speech.

“I know you. Have for a long time. I know raisin kids was never on your radar. I know your own mother was a poor excuse for one, and you didn’t have any female role models in your life growin’ up. But you are not your mom. You are more kind, more thoughtful, more bad ass, and more loving than she ever was with you.” At this point in his speech you have let a few tears free. Bobby notices, but thankfully doesn’t mention it.

“I know you are terrified of havin’ a kid. Of ‘screwing them up’ or somethin’ equally as stupid.” Bobby now grabs your face and forces you to look at him.

“Y/N. I know you’ve been through a lot of bad things in your life. That your head is as messed up as my boys’ heads. But that does not diminish the fact that you and Sam will be amazing parents.”

You open your mouth to thank him but what comes out instead is “Jesus Shitting Christ.”

Bobby, who doesn’t notice the shock written across your face, let’s out a chuckle.

“Well I have quite a few years of advice giving, but no need to talk about Jesus like that.” He jokes.

You would normally make a snarky comment about how his ego had gotten to big for the room, but you have bigger problems on your hands.

“Bobby. I think…oh god. Yea. My water broke. Oh fuck…. Shit. I can’t. Sam and I had a plan… FUCK SAM. HE’S SUPPOSED TO BE HERE. I CANT. I WONT….” You start hyperventilating while Bobby just sits there processing the jumble of unfinished sentences.

“Fuck. Y/N I need you to take deep breaths. Panicking isn’t going to do jack shit.”

“Fuck you Bobby. You’re not the one about to push a watermelon out of a tiny hole in your body, without, might I add, THE FUCKING FATHER OF SAID WATERMELON!” You are now impatient and uncomfortable that you stand up, with quite a bit of struggling due to your current size.

“Fair enough. I’ll go call Sam. Him and Dean should be here soon, if the idjits didn’t stop to many times.” With that, Bobby left the room to call your idiot husband, who left for a hunt when you were less than 2 weeks from you due date. Seriously. Who does that?!

“Winchesters.” You answer your own thoughts with a bitter laugh.

At this point nothing has really started yet. You’ve had some mildly uncomfortable pain in your back, but you’ve had sooo much worse. You’re a little miffed, but also relieved that the movies and shows, which show that once your water broke shit hits the fan fast and before you know it, your baby is born, are wrong.

You decide that you can’t just sit around and wait for things to happen, so you start stripping the bed, cause gross, it’s covered in liquid from your body. Once that’s done, you start getting the bed set up for the birth.

Both you and Sam agreed that having the birth in the bunker was the safest and best idea. At a hospital it is way to easy for demons or whatever the fuck else to possess or disguise themselves and take you baby. Or worse. Dean, Bobby, Sam, and yourself have researched home births, what to expect, and what to do.

Of course if something goes wrong, you will go to a hospital, but you are very optimistic that nothing will.

Just as you leave the bathroom after cleaning yourself up, cause it was getting pretty sticky down there to be honest, you heard Bobby shout.

“Don’t yell at me boy! I’m not the one who got her pregnant, and than thought it was a bright idea to leave her a week before the due date.” A pause.

“Yeah yeah. Save me the sob story. Just get your ass here.” Another pause.

“Well make if faster.” You hear a loud click, you assume was Bobby slamming the phone.

A second later he comes back up to your room.

“Well I see you realized you weren’t dying and had this under control.” You blushed and fiddled with the straw in the water cup on the nightstand.

“Yeah, sorry Bobby. I really appreciate you being here the last few days and keeping me calm.”

Bobby just waved his hand at you.
“Don’t worry about it. Child birth ain’t no picnic, so I hear.”

You laugh and then ease yourself onto the bed. The pain is getting a little bit sharper, and you know soon things are going to be kicked into gear.

“So when are the idiot brothers supposed to be here?”


“Ohhhh. Ah Fuck. Shit!! Bobby!” In an instant Bobby is by your side and holding your hand.

“It’s alright. I’m here. You’re doin’ great. Just a little longer.” He says trying to reassure you. And it would work, if it was coming from Sam, who still isn’t here.

“Where… Is….. SAMMM AHH OHHW!” Another contraction hits and it only punctuates how much you need Sam to be here.

Just as the contraction reaches its high point, you here foot steps and cursing. Sam. Thank god.

He comes running in all limbs, like he’s a teenager with no coordination.

“I’m here. I’m here.” He half yells while catching his breath.

“Well get over here boy. She needs ya!” And Sam does not need to be told twice. He is by your side before you can even wipe the sweat from your forehead that was dripping onto your eyes.

“Hi baby. I’m so sorry I’m late. But I’m here now, and so ready to meet the little Winchester.” He says and then kissed your head.

You’re about to say something, but another contraction hits. And with this one, the need to push.

A few hours later:
“Oh no. She definitely looks more like me. Just look at her nose.” You say while kissing the tiny button nose on the little girl you now hold in your hands.

“Nope. The Winchester genes are strong in this one. Her eyes are totally mine.” Sam declares while looking lovingly at the two most important people in his life.

In the corner of the room Dean just rolls his eyes.
“Dudes. She is like 2 hours old. She looks like a wrinkly potato. Plus Sam. Her eyes are blue right now. Like every babies eyes are when they’re born. So until they change, she does not have your eyes.” He than pops a grape in his mouth. You and Sam just both stare at Dean dumbfounded.

“What? You made me read a lot about birth. That was just something that came up in one of the many articles you sent me.” With that he kisses your head, then leans to whisper into your daughters ear.

“Welcome to the family Olivia. You have pretty great parents, but sometimes they can be a little dorky. You’ll learn to love it. Plus you have me to teach you to be cool.” He stage whispers.

You and Sam both try to cover up the tears that are threatening to spill over at the sweet words Dean said.

When he leaves, you let Sam hold him and are in awe at how much love and care Sam is showing your little girl. It fills you with such joy.

Bobby was right, there was nothing to worry about. You and Sam will rock this parent thing.

50 Dumb Laws From 50 American States - Uniform Stories
Did we actually need a law for that?
By Ben Pugh


Bear wrestling matches are prohibited

Alaska - Fairbanks

Moose may not be viewed from an airplane.


It is illegal to promote the use of or own more than 6 dildos.


It’s strictly prohibited to pronounce “Arkansas” incorrectly.


Animals are banned from mating publicly within 1,500 feet of a tavern, school, or place of worship.


One may not mutilate a rock in a state park.

Connecticut (Waterbury)

It’s illegal for a barber to hum a tune while cutting your hair. 

(Continue Reading: 50 Dumb Laws From 50 American States