canon hunting

Is Bed Sharing Altruistic?

Part One of the Great Fic Writer Scavenger Hunt

In a rare twist of fate, Castiel was actually in the same vicinity as the Winchesters when another mass hunter’s gathering was announced. Evidently other hunters had no problem with networking. According to Mary, the gatherings happened at least once a month, with plenty of hunting tips, advice for hospitals that would look the other way with injuries and, more importantly, plenty of free beer.

While Dean still preferred to keep his distance, Sam rather enjoyed the few gatherings they’d manage to attend. In part because the guy geeked out over any transfer of knowledge, and in part because a certain Eileen was often present as well.

“Besides,” Sam argued as he packed his duffel, “It would be nice for other people to meet Cas for a change, being an angel and all.”

Dean glared. Sam had a good point. “Fine,” he muttered, before turning to Cas, who merely watched their conversation with confusion, “But we’re going to get you in some new clothes before we go.”

“Why?” Castiel tilted his head, protectively brushing his white and blue striped tie.

“Cuz we want you to come off as relatable,” Dean rolled his eyes, “And you aren’t doin’ that looking like an accountant. So.” He gestured vaguely with his hands in an attempt to make his point.

Castiel opened and closed his mouth, trying to come up with something to say before meekly poking his head into Sam’s closet instead. Sam chuckled, setting down a shirt he was folding. “You’ll have better luck wearing Dean’s stuff.”

With a very serious expression, Castiel emerged from the closet with a nod and wordlessly made his way into Dean’s room.

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intangibel  asked:

Can you imagine Alec buying Magnus flowers? Not knowing how many to get or what kind so just being like fuck it, and buying like 4 bouquets so that when he walks into Magnus' loft he's completely hidden behind them. Magnus deciding they need to be preserved and using magic to prevent them wilting not realising Alec will just keep buying them bc now he knows Magnus likes them - their loft now has more flowers than most florists.

okay but like. this is definitely a thing that happens??? because not only does magnus love them every single time but arguably alec actually loves them even more?? you’re not allowed to have flowers or plants at the institute unless they’re useful and medicinal herbs aren’t always the prettiest, but alec would still spend hours in the greenhouse helping to cultivate them, loving the process of watching something new and good sprout from the earth. but mundane flowers? big and colorful and sweet-smelling and grown for no other purpose than to brighten someone’s day, to add a bit of color and life to someone’s home?? you bet your ass he brings magnus flowers every single day and when he finally moves into the loft he wakes up in the morning and the first thing he sees on the dresser across the room are the flowers he bought for their first date, perfectly preserved by magnus’s magic (what a sap) and for the first time in a long time alec knows he’s really home

steve is the tallest and the lankiest of the trio but he doesnt give any shits and still likes to lay across the other twos laps nd shit just bc he can like “hi pay attention to me i love you” and ofc this only invites the other two to fuck up his hair nd shit but he still doesnt care bc he do love them

Everything Will Be Fine

Hey guys! So, here’s a little one-shot about “What if Amelia opened the door in the last scene?” and joined with this prompt here. It’s very small compared to the other ones I wrote, but I didn’t want to drag it that much, I wanted to go straight to “the talk” we want so much. So anyway, I hope you enjoy it and please give me your feedback :)

Owen sighed. He felt tired. Tired of searching, tired of waiting. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Again. And just like the last time, there was nothing he could do about it.

After knocking on the door one last time, he slowly shook his head in disappointment and turned to leave, catching a glimpse of Stephanie Edwards standing on the other end of the hallway. But, before he could take a step further, Owen heard the door being unlocked behind him.

“Hi.” He heard her soft voice behind his back, stopping him on his tracks. It had been such a long time since he last heard that sound, that his heart skipped a beat in response.

Turning to look at her, Owen saw Amelia standing on the doorway with an exhausted and defeated look on her face.

“Hi.” He replied, but didn’t move an inch, not knowing what else to do.

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How can anyone expect me to ship Call and Tamara when Aaron and Call have all the lines, the moments, the dynamics, the chemistry and the settings that literally destroy me, maim me, shatter me. They’re just so shippable and I’m a sucker for their type of relationship, plus they are the embodiment of many tropes that I love aksddhjsksjdhjks.

But I just know that Callmara is going to be endgame and Calron will remain as one of my unrealized OTP’s. *SCREAMS INTO THE VOID*


Lily Sunders Gives Me Hope. Or, How Supernatural Has Upped Its Gender Game Beyond Vigilante Villainesses & Single Man Tears.

@elizabethrobertajones, I think I get a medal for the longest titles to my meta. I imagine something where the name of the medal doesn’t fit on it.

I have to admit, initially, I was at a loss for this week’s challenge of The Great Meta Scavenger Hunt, which asked to draw parallels between “Folsom Prison Blues” and “Love Hurts.” But then, 12x10. The gift that keeps on giving. Now, I could talk about Cas’s female vessel, but then this meta would rival War and Peace in word count. Because I have a lot of feelings about that.

No, I have to say, outside of all the Destiel things in that episode, which I enjoyed (ha - enjoyed. Try “was so deeply in the thrall of I literally couldn’t sleep Thursday night,”) I am just a little bit in love with Lily Sunders.

Not just because I have a thing for redheads with eyepatches (I do), but because she is such a refreshing female MoTW. In that - let’s be honest - she’s not much of a monster at all. Continuing season 12′s impressive track record of being able to cultivate compelling villains (I will soon write about how the BMoL are the most interesting thing to happen to Supernatural in years), she is not wholly innocent nor wholly evil.

Originally posted by bagginshield

I say that this is refreshing because - in the past - the evil female has all too often been one note. Sure, we have recurring characters like Meg and Ruby and Abaddon and Rowena who defy that - but there has never been quite so much character development in a single episode for a villainess … potentially ever?

Rewatching “Folsom Prison Blues” and “Love Hurts” solidified those feelings. Because Nurse Glockner and Sonja are the sort of MoTW that I hate. One-dimensional women with their own agendas who need to be stopped. Ones with a penchant for punishing men. Ones who can be mocked for their motives being “practically feminist” and offed by the Winchesters without any protest.

(I’m not even going to touch any of the Amara stuff in “Love Hurts,” because blegh - I really didn’t like the Dean “pining” for Amara stuff).

What excites me about Supernatural as we wade through the middle of its twelfth season is how much it has grown up as a show. How it has continuously matured, alongside the Winchesters. 

OKAY, so back to the episodes at hand. I’m hinting at the fact that women both occupy pretty boring positions within these episodes. We have cold-hearted bitches like Nurse Glockner and Sonja. We have victims like Melissa and Staci. We have ill-advised cameos from characters like Amara. But we also have a nearly nine year gap in the life of Dean Winchester.

Because the guy that does this in “Folsom Prison Blues”…

Originally posted by adoringjensen

is literally pulling into the Too Tired Motel in “Love Hurts.”

Originally posted by yourfavoritedirector

So the question is: what is Dean too tired of?

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Longbow hunt preparation, I was gathering all my gear as deer season is only a few weeks away. After laying this out I thought it needed a quick snap for the Canon’s a well used Martin “The Stick” with custom cedar arrows and various accessories


Someone asked what I thought would happen in the season finale/ what I’d like to happen, so…here it is.
Haven’t written canon in a while lol.

He can feel someone staring at him. Slowly opening his eyes, he comes face to face with his estranged wife, propped up on her elbow staring down at him. They haven’t laid in the same bed in months, so the fact that they’re both laying under the same cover is shocking to him. He wonders how long she’s been looking at him like this.
The two stare at each other in silence, neither one saying anything for minutes. Then, Owen props himself up and shuffles closer to her before lightly resting his hand on her waist, under the cover. At a snails pace, he moves his face nearer to hers, enjoying the fact that her eyes are following his lips. Softly, he kisses her.

“Owen,” she warns condescendingly, pushing lightly on his chest, “We shouldn’t.”

Amidst the drama of finding out about Megan, and their still feuding drama over having a baby, she knows sex will only confuse things more.

“Please,” he begs in a low voice, revealing this vulnerable side to her again today, “I miss you.”

There’s a small moment of hesitation where she glances at him, then at his lips, before she wraps one arm around his neck and pulls him in for another kiss. She can’t deny that she misses him too. She pulls her red long sleeve off of her. Her pants are discarded too and, as soon as the article is off, their mouths meet again, their lips in a hungry search as their tongues sway against each other.
Owen pulls her towards him and rolls them over so that she’s straddling him now.
He sits up, his heart racing as he unbuckles his pants and shrugs it off of him and beneath the covers. It’s thumping so hard that she can feel it’s loud lub dub against her chest.
Their clothes are barely off when they finally join. He still has his dress shirt on, with a few buttons undone,and she still has her bra and underwear on. The sex is messy and sweaty but there’s love in it, like there always is with them. But, once it’s done, once they’ve both gotten their highs and are now lying next to each other in silence, they feel dirty. Neither one knows the other feels this way, but it’s there.

Shock Pt.5

“Maggie, are you okay?” Amelia asked as she jogged to the source of the noise she heard just now. When she rounded the corner, she didn’t expect to see Maggie with a gun in her hand, pointing at Nick’s brother, who was pointing a gun at Owen’s head.

“Chris?” she questioned, beyond the point of confusion, “What are you doing?”

In a state of panic, Chris instructed, “You. Afro girl. Turn around and point your gun at her.”

“Maggie, don’t do it,” Owen instructed in a calm voice. He tried to look at her in a way that would convey the plan he had in mind, but Maggie was too terrified to read him.

“There is no negotiation,” Chris yelled at Owen, “Gun at her, now, or I’ll shoot him.” Maggie looked to Owen for guidance and Owen shook his head. Don’t turn around Maggie, he thought. Amelia stood there, frozen in shock at the situation she’d managed to find herself in. But, in almost no time at all, the man moved the gun from Owen’s head to his thigh and pulled the trigger, a loud bang echoing through the empty halls of the hospital. Yelling, Owen collapsed to the floor as he gripped the side of his leg. Blood was squirting out of the wound in all directions as he cried out in pain.

“Owen!” Amelia cried, tears streaming down her face as she looked at him squirming on the floor, all because of her.

“Turn around,” Chris breathed heavily, “Because his brain is next.”

Without much of a choice, Maggie turned to face Amelia now, tears streaming down her face too as they stood in a stare off, one on either side of the gun.

“Maggie,” Amelia said slowly, “Give me the gun.”

“Are you crazy?” Maggie exclaimed, “If I give you the gun, the next bullet will go in his brain!” Her hand shook against the metal as she said the words. “Not even you can fix that.”

Amelia eyed Owen on the floor and weighed her options. Escape wasn’t possible, she was almost certain Owen would get shot again if she moved, and there was no way for her to get the gun from Maggie. She closed her eyes in defeat. There was only one way this was going to end.

“Shoot me, then,” she announced in a watery voice, “Shoot me.” She looked at Chris, who still had the gun pointed at Owen’s head even though he was on the ground now. “That’s what you want, right?”

Chris nodded slowly. “I want you to pay for what you did.”

Amelia looked to Maggie now. “Just shoot me.” If she got shot, then Owen wouldn’t have to, she reasoned in her mind. She’d be saving his life, at the cost of her own, and she was okay with that. After everything that had happened with Nick last week, and the depression that followed her almost constantly now, the thought of being shot somehow made that load feel lighter. She was paying for her mistakes.

“Amelia, no,” Owen managed to groan through gritted teeth, “Don’t be stupid. You’re not some superhero.”

“It’s okay, Maggie,” she croaked, ignoring Owen’s pleas, tears falling as she smiled at her, “Just do it. I deserve it.”

Maggie looked at her, utterly horrified at the fact that Amelia was basically begging to be shot. She wanted to believe that she was saying that because it was Owen’s life on the line, but some part of her had a feeling that she wanted this to happen, that even if Owen’s life wasn’t at stake, if it was just her and the gunman, she’d still ask for it; she wouldn’t fight it. That thought made a chill run down her spine.

“Don’t miss,” Chris growled as Maggie raised the gun, “And no limbs. I’m not dumb.”

With shaky hands, Maggie raised the gun at Amelia. Head shot is a definite fatality, Maggie reasoned in her mind as she attempted to figure out what was the least fatal way to shoot Amelia, if that was possible. Anything in the chest is lower chance of death, but still high. I can’t shoot legs or arms. That just leaves the abdomen. But her guts…I’m no general surgeon.

“If you wait any longer…” Chris warned.

Knowing she’d run out of time, Maggie aimed for her chest. She’d hopefully be able to fix any cardiothoracic injuries, but injuries to her general organs wasn’t part of her specialty and the nearest general surgeon probably wasn’t near enough.

When Amelia heard the safety click less than a minute later, she closed her eyes, a sense of peace suddenly flooding her.

“Just shoot,” Maggie mumbled to herself, trying to work up the courage to pulling the trigger. Her finger tightened against the trigger, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull it. Standing there for what felt like hours, Amelia watched as Maggie readjusted herself , blinking the tears out of her eyes so she could see better. She looked at Owen on the ground, who was staring back at her with pleading eyes, and then she looked at Chris who, unbeknownst to everyone else, had now raised his gun at her. Before she could yell at Maggie to turn the gun on him, as it was no longer on Owen, his gun went off, the bullet hitting her right in her stomach.

Shock Pt.4

4 Hours Prior.

“Put the gun down and let’s talk.”

“How about you get out of the elevator and take me where I want to go, I like that idea better.”

Owen audibly swallowed, eyeing the barrel of the gun pointed at the nurse’s head. The man had already shot three of his hostages in the last two hours and he was not about to let another staff member take the fall. There was no arguing with this guy. “Okay, I’ll take you wherever you want.” He looked at the hostage nurse and nodded, switching places with her. The gun now stood pointed at Owen’s back while the nurse fled the area.

“I want you to take me to Dr. Shepherd,” the man said.

Okay, Owen thought, Maybe I should try to argue with this guy.

2 Hours Prior

Amelia sat on a stool, her face in her hands as she and 15 other staff members awaited some form of notification or release from where they were being kept. Still donned in their surgical gown and scrub cap, Maggie and Amelia linked eyes wearily.

As Maggie was about to say something, a barrage of officers barged into the OR, guns pointed in anticipation of meeting the shooter.

“OR 2, clear,” one of the officers called out, signalling for everyone to lower their guns, “Everyone please follow us and be vigilant of your surroundings as we take you to safety. Dr. Shepherd, a word.”

“What’s going on?” Amelia asked as she stood and followed everyone out of the room, “Did you find the shooter?”

“Not yet,” the captain, Amelia assumed, answered, “Thankfully, Dr. Hunt has been leading the guy on a wild goose chase, buying us some time to evacuate the hospital and ensure your safety.”

“Wait, wait,” Amelia said, holding her hand up in the air as the group of offices and civilians walked, “I thought he had a nurse as a hostage?”

“He’s been…discarding his hostages for new ones,” the officer vaguely explained.

“Why?” Amelia asked, “Who’s the shooter?”

“We’re unsure of who he is…”

“What does he want?”

The captain looked at her unsurely. “He wants you, Dr. Shepherd. Do you know any of your patients whom you might’ve rubbed the wrong way?”

“I rub a lot of people the wrong way,” she snapped, “I don’t know who you could possibly be…” A thought occurred to her, making her heart drop. Her eyebrows furrowed as she whispered, “I need to find Owen.”

“We can’t allow you to do that,” he said, ending the conversation here as they all ventured to safety.

Pretending to retire the thought and give up, Amelia lagged behind until she was opposite Maggie. “Maggie, I need to find Owen.”

Maggie looked at her with raised eyebrows. “I’m waiting for you to tell me the smart part of this plan.”

“She’s not in this room either,” Owen sighed dramatically, closing the door to the supply closet.

“You think this is a joke?” the man inquired, poking the gun into his back forcefully, “The next door we open better have her in it, or else I’ll shoot you.”

Owen frowned, knowing his chances had run out. He also knew that there was no way on earth he was going to lead him to Amelia, which left him with little options of survival. “Are you okay? You’re clammy and sweaty.”

“Mind your business,” he growled, looking around frantically, almost as if he was seeing something that Owen wasn’t. Switching positions, the man turned Owen around and stood behind him, wrapping his arm around his neck as he held the gun pointed at his head now. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” Owen said in a muffled voice, as a result of being held in the chokehold technique too tight. “Even if I did see something, why would I tell you?”

Walking the two of them backwards, he said, “Now of all times is the worst time for sarcasm.” A dark figure dashed across the background again. Darting his eyes all over, the shooter looked for the mysterious figure, not knowing that it was just a figment of his imagination.

Determining that he was having a hallucination, Owen inquired, “Do you have a mental disease?”

“Shut up,” the man hissed, tugging his hostage back with him as they neared a corner.

“is it a bipolar disorder?” Owen further prodded him, hoping to catch him in a moment of weakness.

“I said, shut-“ The two turned the corner, crashing into something. Or rather, someone.

All three persons fell to the floor, one of the gunman’s two firearms falling off of him in the process.

“Ow,” Maggie groaned, rubbing her chest, “I though they evacuated…” She looked up and noticed Owen and the shooter staring back at her, shock in both their eyes. Maggie’s eyes darted to the gun in between them before looking back at Owen.

All at once, everyone dove for the gun.