cherry red mustang

Deranged: Part 1

Originally posted by taehyungifs

“Sometimes human places, create inhuman monsters.” -Stephen King

Warning: Will contain violence and tense situations in later chapters

 Teaser  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6

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As The French Would Say [a Sebastian Smythe imagine]

a/n: i just thought of this……

Window seats are great. You always took a seat by the window in Mr. Shue’s class. Today has been an off day for you. You can’t wait until glee practice; only eight more minutes. Glee practice is the only thing that honestly calms you down.  

Peeking outside, a familiar cherry red Mustang pulls into a parking lot; your face lights up and you lift your cheek off of the palm of your hand. The door cracks open; a pair of brown boat shoes step out and Sebastian stands up, fixing the strap of his messenger bag against his pale tan sweater. After he shuts the car door, he slides his black Ray Ban sunglasses to his shiny brown locks, squinting his mossy green eyes and scrunching his pale nose. You cage a giggle, craning your neck to watch him walk towards the school. 

Ticking, the clock shows there’s three more minutes of school. You put your books in you star themed baby blue backpack, hoisting the black straps over your gray elephant pattern tank top, standing up at the sound of the bell. 

Zooming through the hall, past all the students, you smile brightly at the sight of the tall Warbler. He glares, arms crossed over his chest, sweater to his elbows, as Artie rolls by. “Sebby!” you beam, galaxy Vans squeaking when you stop in front of him. “You came!” Your fingers curl around your backpack straps tightly. 

“Well duh.” Sebastian scoffs, rolling his eyes; a strand of his hair pokes through the indent of his sunglasses, dangling in between his thick eyebrows. Letting go of his bag, he takes your hand, curling his long fingers around the back. “What kind of boyfriend do you take me for?” he grumbles, smirking when you shrug. “I was in Paris for a month, Y/N. And you know what Paris doesn’t have? You.” he sighs deeply. 

You stop, spinning to face him. Pushing yourself up on your toes, you peck the tip of his nose, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Well, you’re back. And I missed you a lot, Bas.” you grin, kissing his soft lips. 

Smirking, he tilts his head, allowing for a better angle. “Missed you, mon bébé.” Sebastian mutters, holding your waist. “Gotcha something too…” he digs into his bag, “Saw it and thought, ‘mon poupée would adore this’. So, obviously, I bought it.” He pulls out a box dramatically, causing you to giggle, and pops it open. “Tada. If I have to explain what the ’S’ is for…” he deadpans, chuckling slightly at hour shocked face. 

“Sebastian… This must’ve cost you a fortune!” you gasp, picking up the diamond embedded necklace. 

He shrugs, snapping the box shut. “Yeah. It did. But, eh.” he smiles, taking the necklace from you. Slowly, he wraps it around your neck, clasping it. “Now everyone knows you’re mine.” he purrs, smirking. 

There’s a quiet breath of air from you before you kiss him. “Now I have this and…” You grab your backpack, jangling the small Warbler clip. Sebastian snorts. “I better get to practice. I’ll see you after and you can drive me home. I love you!” you hum, pecking his pinkish cheek. 

“Love you too, mon amour.” the brunette whispers, kissing your nose. “Make sure to rub it in Lady Hummel’s face.” he smirks; you roll your eyes, strutting away. “I’ll be waiting.” he winks. Damn Sebastian and his bilingual tongue.

Fear Makes Companions Of Us All

Fear Makes Companions of Us All by Sans-Seraph (themothandthestars)

Pairings: Gabriel/Sam Winchester

Rating: E

Length: 3074

Warnings/Tags: AU, Reverse Verse, Angel! Sam, Human! Gabriel, Hunter! Gabriel , Fisting ,Mild Bondage, Car Sex, Wing Oil, Wing Kink, PWP

Summary: Samael the archangel is a possessive bastard. Even more so when Gabriel is injured on a hunt.


HOLY SHIT! This fic is hot in so many ways I can’t even list them all. Wing Kink Plus Reverse Verse Plus Possessive! Sam? Sign me the hell up! I need more of this verse like yesterday. Incredible read! - Lauren 

Angel!Sam and Hunter!Gabriel is a verse that I absolutely am obsessed with! Mix that in with possessive Sam, wing!kink, and sex, and I am in love. Great fic to read after a long day in my dorm. Love it! - Gisselle

Oh wow this was super hot! I loved possessive angel Sam and him being so protective over Gabriel. Plus, I can definitely see Gabriel driving a cherry red Mustang. So so amazing! - Patty

Gabriel, as a hunter, would need a sexy car and the cherry Mustang is perfect! The romance in the car is a bonus, I am especially a sucker for angel Sam being possessive over what’s his. - Nikki

This is Us


Chapter 1, Silence

Cold. Cold was the perfect word for what the breeze felt like. Lucid looking trees loomed behind a cascading cliff. To the far horizon was pinks, yellows, and dark blues of city lights, glowed against the rippling starry sky. Large transparent clouds masked portions of the dripping cosmos that leaked dark matter.

A bent silver road guardrail, missing a large portion that opened wide, partly separated the cliff and the bustling city. Creeping damp grass crawled to the edge and seemed to begin to almost fall as the longer strands laid limp, only moving for a signal moment when the wind came and went. The road behind the cliff bent in a curve making the other parts of the road unseeable or even inexistent, except for here.

Cold. Cold was the perfect word for what the breeze felt like. A mustang that looked out of place for the time, laid still, parked beside the etched guardrail. The faded red of the car looked rich and rose like under the luminescent waning moon.

A silhouette leaned against a part of the guard rail that was somewhat up right. His breathing was wavered, hitching only for a second. His head cast down, but eyes flicked up toward the overwhelming city that was still keeping itself awake even at this hour. His hands crossed over the other with no thought. The silhouettes lips curved slightly downward in a faint pained sort of way, shifting his feet to lean on his right more as he let his heavy weighed mind lower slowly to connect with the cool metal surface of the rail. His hands naturally came to meet him half way, catching his forehead with his knuckles, white from squeezing them to hard a few minutes before.

Silence. Not deathly silence or a silence that rings with pressure when it’s dead quiet and all that can be heard is a soft ring of pressure on silent ears. This silence was a silence of trees whistling with the wind. A silence of distant car horns and sirens. A silence of an owl calling to its mate that was the night itself. Silence. This was his silence, yet ownership had nothing to do with it.

One of his hands slipped from its loose hold, slowly opening the fist and running his hand up his face. It made its way to his thick hair as his hand ran through it. Slowly, he picked his head up but, still lower than before. His hand that had ran through his hair came down to meet the rail again.

The lights from the city seemed dimmer, along with the natural light of the sky and moon. His breathing deepened with long heavy breaths that seemed to carry such an immense weight. He shut his eyes slowly, prepping himself to push off the guardrail to stand on his own again, if he even could. He grasped the rail, arching his shoulder blades as he pushed away from it gently. The silhouette stood up right for the first time in hours, shoulders relaxed as his weight rested on one leg. He turned his attention back to the lively city, resting his hands in his jacket pockets, head falling back as the sky seemed to be more interesting.

“Por supuesto…” his voice was more quiet than the silence that surrounded him. His silence.

* * *

The sun was just that. The sun. It was warm and comforting but, at the moment other things were just to distracting for the boy sitting on his porch to really enjoy the stunning morning. It hadn’t quite risen all the way. You could clearly see the beams of sun peeking through the shadow looking trees.

He clicked open his phone.

6:08 am.

He slid the phone into one of his leather jacket pockets, the shoulders of the jacket weren’t fully on. They hung half way calmly.

The Latino young man ran a olive colored hand through his thick dark tree bark washed hair, dusky chocolate eyes closed for a few seconds to relax or try to. His worn dark grey looking jeans skimmed the porch step every so often. The chiming of harmonized voices of small metal hanged from feathery strings that swayed loosely from the roof of a porch across the street. He breathed in deeply, he exhaled consciously. His eyes fluttered open after a few blissful moments of just nothingness. Then, oh god.

His heart stopped when he saw a young girl standing in the middle of the road, facing him, staring. He stuttered his arms behind him to grab anything, something to ground him as his heart seemed to lose control. He ended up on his side when one of his arms missed the ground as he fell roughly. He finally found his life line, shaking hands clutching the cement floor as he looked over his arm, unblinking. His eyes stung from being open so long without a single blink. He heaved breathlessly as his mind raced with terrifying but, some beautiful thoughts. The emotion stricken boy leaned up slowly, still cautious.

He blinked. Only once.

She was gone.

For a few moments he let his body connect with the ground fully. The cool touch of the smooth porch he couldn’t even feel was nonexistent with the rest of the world in those few long, agonizing, moments. He laid there unthinking, unmoving, but completely restless in his thoughts. He swallowed hard as he shut his glazed eyes tightly, relaxing them once his breathing finally had slowed to a deep staggered flow. He brought a hand to his thudding chest, trying to calm his drum of a heart. He leaned back up to the sitting position he was in earlier. His head hanged slightly low, a desperate hand still on his chest. The young mans short hair strands fell lazily in a slight curl on his forehead.

A pained, slight agape frown of his mouth contrasted his half lidded gold flaky eyes.

He needed a moment. He needed a lot of moments. The high school junior heaved a deep, shaky, long breath. The overwhelmed boy tried to think of anything else, something else than what he wanted to.

Saturday. He remembered that’s what today was.

He sighed as he let his hand fall in his lap thoughtlessly. He ran a tired hand over his face then into his hair, combing it back. He looked back to the road with an unreadable look. The finally composed but, still shaken teen, got up swiftly, pulling his jacket fully on his shoulders.

A faded cherry red 1968 Ford Mustang sat parked in the driveway of the boys small but, quant home. He looked to the ground for a moment at his side, then walked to the car, pulling his keys out of one of his jacket pockets. He slide in weightlessly into the drivers seat, putting the key in the ignition but, not turning it. The teen stared at the wheel with one hand on it, gripped loosely.


His silence.

He swung his head back as he turned the ignition with an unreadable grimace on his face. He closed his eyes then opened them quickly. The determined painted Latino swung out of the driveway quickly but, expertly. The roar of the engine pierced the surrounding air as he pressed the gas, not looking back.

A new thought crossed his mind, his eyes widening slightly with a gleam in them that sparked brightly. A small smile played on his sculpted features.

“You’re such a pain but, you’re my pain.” He spoke to no one. His voice laced sweetly as he drifted down the road.

Bondy and the Red Car

Four months, thats how long it had been since you had seen your boyfriend Bondy. The two of you speak almost every night but still this long distance tour thing was starting to get to you. last nights phone call was especially hard, you down and cried. not your proudest moment, normally you tried to stay strong. You knew it was hard on both of you and crying didnt the situation, but it all just became too much last night and you broke down. Bondy did his best to comfort you but he didnt know what to say. It was all he could do to hold back his own tears. The call ended well with the two of you laughing and joking about reuniting and running away to some secluded part of some woods. Bondy said one day he would show up in a cherry red mustang and save you from your sadness. You laughed and told him to hurry cause you loved him so much it hurt.

The next morning you woke up feeling extra lonely. You made your way out into the kitchen to make your morning tea, what you found in there was way better then tea. Flowers were sitting on the kitchen table, orchids your favorite. You wondered how they got in here… a little creeped out by the thought of someone in your house. You brushed off the thought an looked for a note. “Look outside” was printed on the card you found. Hmm you thought thats on odd message, i love you would have sufficed you laughed to yourself. Regardless you made your way to the window and looked out to find a 1966 Mustang parked in your driveway with a very familiar boy sitting in the front seat. You could not believe your eyes, you ran down to Bondy still in your p.js. “Bondy! What the hell are you doing here?” you yelled while wrapping your arms around his neck. “well dont sound too excited hahaha. I got three days off so i flew to you.” Bondy answered before kissing you. “im so excited you dont even know! What with the car? Are we running away?” You asked gesturing to the beautiful cherry red masterpiece. “well we’re going on a one day road trip. Get packed love.” He responded, you didnt ask anymore questions, you just ran back to the house giggling.

It only took you about three minutes to get packed, you only needed to pack for a day trip and you didnt want to waist any time. quickly you got changed into a cute floral sun dress then you found your way back to the kitchen where Bondy was doing something on his phone. Sneakily you walked up behind him and hugged him kissing his neck. “I cant believe your actually here!” you said softly into his ear. He spun around kissed your lips and said “Well you better start to believe, we’ve no time for disbelief” you laughed and nodded in agreement. “ so where are we headed?” you asked “The grocery store for supplies.” Bondy said knowing thats not the answer you were looking for. “yeah but after that… where to?” you continued to question even though at this point you didnt expect to get an answer. “It would be no fun if I told you, but trust me you will like it.” You listened and Bondy said exactly what you thought he might. Bondy just took your bag from you then took your hand and led you to the car.

As Bondy said your first stop was the store… what you didnt expect was for it to be a liquor store. All you could do was laugh as he pulled up to it “supplies?” you cocked your head and gestured to the liquor store. “Your right I misspoke necessities.” You both laughed and made your way in. Fifteen minutes later and you had more then enough “hooch” as Bondy liked to call it. “Well we got the necessities, now maybe we should think about the incidentals like food now?” you said playfully. “Oh yeah food… to the grocery, high speed engage!” Bondy exclaimed before speeding off. After a few short moments you were at the grocery store. Bondy was particularly giddy so he grabbed your hand and began skipping into the store.

Shopping with Bondy was one of your favorite things to do, between the random accent and voices he used when he tried to get you interested in a product and the way he danced down the isles it was always a special experience. today he was serenading you with “Just the Two of Us” and throwing every sweet he saw into the cart, Luckily he had you to actually grab real food as well. His choices worried you a bit, you decided to make a mental note to cook for him more when he was around. Once you had every single flavor of Oreo Bondy decided you had everything you needed. When you started to load everything onto the checkout stand thats when Bondy finally said “maybe we over did it…” with a chuckle. You just laughed an shook your head.
After putting all the groceries into the trunk and getting in Bondy grabbed an AUX chord and put on a playlist titled “Fear and Loathing on a Road Trip” you giggled not only at the name of the playlist but also at how prepare Bondy was, it was cute. For the next three and a half hours you laughed and sang together while he drove to the mystery location. You took a few videos and pictures not wanting to forget a second of this

When you finally came to a stop you couldn’t believe your eyes, what stood before you was the most beautiful cabin you had ever seen standing in the middle of nowhere. You just stared in amazement while Bondy got out and opened your door, helping you out then kissing you. once all you stuff was in the cabin it started to get dark so you decided to have a little fire. Bondy built a lovely little structure to be burnt and you got the chocolate and marshmallows. Bondy wrapped his arms around you and said “Is this okay?” “ Of course! I would have been happy sitting at home with you. This is just extra special.” you answered before kissing Bondy with every ounce of passion you could muster. You stayed like that for a while just kissing until Bondy suggested going to bed.

You had a power struggle while making your way into the bedroom, Bondy was leading you with kissed then you took his shirt off and lead him. Gradually you lost more and more clothes, by time you made it to the bed you were both completely naked. Bondy pushed you onto the bed wasting no time getting on top of you. He hovered for a moment before doing anything to make sure you were on the same page. Bondy made sure he never did anything you didnt want. that night you were on the same page, You let Bondy know by grinding your hips against his. A short while later and you were out of breath and thanking Bondy for a perfect day.  

shelveddoll  asked:

52, 55, 67, 82, and 84!

52- dream car? ah my dream car is a 1965 cherry red mustang convertible or you Elvis’s pink Cadillac ✨ lol I’ll keep dreaming 😂😂

55- dream job? I really wish I could be an actress or model or owning a cosmetic brand tbh. But alas I lack talent or looks! 🙃 even just one of those fashion/beauty bloggers who get to go around the world and live lavishly

67- my hobbies? lol I used to play volleyball and softball which I loved but I just stopped this year😭 I like to go out, shop, hang out with friends, like to watch movies, take pictures (not selfies but of pretty sights/things) I’m kind of boring I guess oops😂

82- my fav ice cream flavor? Tbh I love the vanilla/chocolate twist 😂 my university is known for their ice cream & I love cake batter & peanut butter- chocolate! 🍦🍨

84- chocolate or rainbow sprinkles!? can I have both? 😂🍩✨

Thanks for the ask lovely! 💛

Dancing on the Highway

Dean X Reader

Words - 3,954

Summary -  Reader has it bad for Dean and he couldn’t be more oblivious. When the reader finally tries to move on and goes on a date with another hunter, things don’t go according to plan.

Warnings - This is just fluff right now… was supposed to be smut… now it’s just hurt feelings and the smut will come later. 

Read Part 2

Dancing on the Highway

Here if you want me, listening so close from far away
I memorized what you told me, like a foreigner on holiday
I know to smile at confusion, not forget the soul that smiles on me
Dancing on the highway, the broken line that led from you to me
Well, I’ll be at my station all night, so come on by if you feel like

Still here if you want me, look at what I can do with empty time
A lost love that likes to haunt me - it’s waiting around to meet me when I die
Death surrounds, protects the living - this is what you said and I agreed
Not to be unforgiving just because your soul’s done time and free
Because I’m here if you want me, my love, dancing on the highway

But your sun still burns my eye
Oh, why?
Oh, why?”

Elliott Smith – Dancing on the Highway 

Part 1

Watching Dean flirt with random waitresses used to be a sport that you and Sam loved to watch, making commentary at it like announcers at a game. You cheered his successes and over analyzed his failures in play by play detail. Over time it seemed harder and harder to watch and less like a sport as his antics ate away at you. It became more like a knife twisting in your gut at the mere thought of it and caused you physical pain to witness.

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I think I mentioned that my uncle had died last week, well they just put the link out for his obituary and I think it’s one of the nicest ones I’ve ever seen.  It’s like six paragraphs, it includes his whole life, what his grandkids called him, (“Grampa Bob,”) how he used to volunteer at the VA hospital to drive veterans to Sunday services, and how when he was a plant manager at Howard Johnson’s, he implemented “Mother’s Hours” for women with children, long before that was  thing that companies did.  They even did a backdrop wallpaper of muscle cars, because he was always into restoring them, and even in his seventies drove a cherry red Mustang up and down the east coast so he could go snorkeling in Florida and snowmobiling in Maine.  The whole thing was just very personalized and well done.  You actually got a real picture of his life, and his personality and not the usual just “survived by” and “enjoyed gardening.” 


 SCOTT RICHARD WEILAND           10/27/67 – 12/3/15

Ain’t the same for you and me
Comatose commodity
The superhero’s dyin’
All the children cryin’

Sell more records if I’m dead
Purple flowers once again
Hope it’s sooner, hope it’s near
Corporate records’ fiscal year”

Scott Weiland “Adhesive” by Stone Temple Pilots

I woke up today to 17 missed calls and 43 text messages.

“Scott’s gone.”

It’s cliché to say that bad news is like a punch to the gut, but that’s exactly what it felt like. Scott Weiland was more than the deeply talented frontman for Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver; more than the poster child for ‘90s rock ‘n’ roll excess; more than a rock star – the man was a bona-fide, once-in-a-generation ICON.

In the coming days, there will be formulaic recaps of his career, tasteless Twitter jokes about his lifestyle, weepy elegies to the lost promise of ‘90s rock, brainy think pieces and a lot of “I told you so”. All of that is okay. It’s human nature. It’s what people do when someone famous dies young.

But for some of us, it’s much deeper. Scott’s music touched us the way only the best art can. It resonated with us and helped form who we are. I’m firmly in this camp.

I’m in the latter camp not only because I loved his music, but because I was his guitarist and friend in the ‘90s.

I met Scott shortly after STP had their first really big hit with “Plush”. At the time, all of us oh-so-cool rock ‘n’ rollers dismissed him as a weak Eddie Vedder clone. People forget that this was a common attitude about STP at the time (of course, he went on to make us jealous haters eat our words). Scott came to see a band I was in at a small club in Los Angeles. After the set, I was hanging out with a bandmate in the parking lot and we see Scott approaching. “Ugh, that’s the dude from that Stone Temple band – what the hell does he want?” Scott came up to us gushing about our set and being so charming, so funny and so intelligent that we felt like asses for our stupid, uninformed opinion of him. I liked him immediately.

A few months later he invited me to join his side project, The Magnificent Bastards.

Working with Scott was a revelatory experience. The man was so effortlessly talented it seemed supernatural. Scott could take the most boneheaded, 2-note riff and put a vocal on it that turned it into an instant classic. That’s the mark of the truly gifted. Creating unbelievably powerful rock music was like breathing for him. Make no mistake – as a frontman, Scott Weiland is in the same league as Mick Jagger, Jim Morrison, Iggy Pop and David Bowie. The man was simply that good.

We did some recordings for various albums, jammed a lot, wrote some songs – but mostly we had a great time. He’d laugh about the dumbest stuff and had a lust for life that was absolutely infectious.

He also had a drug problem. A serious one.

Scott Weiland’s struggles with drugs are well-documented and I’m not going to recap them here. Suffice to say that he could be surrounded by a drug-induced wall that prevented him from connecting with those around him. If I was annoyed by it as one of his musician buddies, it must have been absolute hell for his family and those who were truly close to him.

Even with this crippling addiction to contend with, Scott’s kindness was always evident. He was an extremely big-hearted, generous guy who would show up unannounced and take you to a restaurant you could never afford or surprise you with a gift of incredible vintage clothing that just happened to fit perfectly (I found out later that Scott had my girlfriend send him all my sizes).  

When my grandfather died, the first visitor to show up at my house was Scott Weiland. He didn’t simply call to say “sorry man” – he drove to my house to give me a hug. This was at the height of his fame. That’s the sort of person he was.

I’ll never forget when he showed up to rehearsal in a pristine, cherry red 1965 Mustang convertible. He had just bought it as a surprise gift for his first wife. Scott was in drag that day, but that’s a tale for another time…

I lost touch with Scott in the ‘90s. Our lives were on very different paths, but I followed his career with special interest. I was so happy for him when Velvet Revolver formed, but by then it was apparent that he was still unable to kick his demons. That thought is almost too depressing to contemplate. Mostly, I hoped that the fun-loving, music-obsessed guy I knew was still inside him. I’m positive it was.

As I write this, Scott’s cause of death has yet to be publicly disclosed. It really doesn’t matter what killed him. Will his loss be more or less meaningful if he overdosed? He’s gone and we’re left with his music as his permanent legacy.

All I know is that when I knew him, he desperately wanted out from under his drug addiction. It’s crazy the way we lionize drug use among the creative class and especially rock stars. It’s a passé attitude for the 21st century. Let’s leave the image of the “elegantly wasted” rock star in the dustbin of history with leisure suits and 8-track tapes.

If you want to honor the legacy of Scott Weiland, commit to a deeper understanding about the nature of addiction. If you need help, seek it. If you don’t, help someone who does.  But don’t forget to crank up some classic Stone Temple Pilots jams while you’re doing so.

Farewell, Scott. The world is much less interesting without you in it.

-Jeff Nolan

Music and Memorabilia Historian 

Hard Rock International 

“Green Eyes and Purple Roses”

Title: Green Eyes and Purple Roses

Author: Anonymous

Original Imagine Link: Imagine that Dean cooks you dinner, and it’s not until the end of the meal that you realize he meant for it to be a date.

Word Count: 600

Warnings: None

Summary: Dean makes you dinner for a date, when you thought it was for ‘the family’.


You waited patiently at the door, your hair blowing across your face in the light night breeze. You turned to look at the lawn, seeing your cherry-red fastback ‘67 Mustang parked behind Dean’s Impala. Then the door opened behind you and you turned to face who had invited you over for dinner.

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anonymous asked:

concept: driving in a vintage cherry red mustang down an open road in the desert during summer. you're in passenger, wearing a baby blue sun dress and heart shaped sunglasses. I'm driving, wearing a white collar button down with the sleeves rolled up. we're headed to California. you're takin' Polaroids while classic rock plays in the background. it smells of daisies. your long big curls are blowing in the wind. we're laughing, smiling. we're numb to the world around us. we are free from pain.

I love this soo much!! It’s so alluring I feel like this would be something in a Lana Del Rey video💕💕

Olicity/Arrow--Fast & Furious AU oneshot

A/N: Okay, so some of you may have seen the Olicity/Fast and Furious AU prompt post that I posted recently. I have no intentions of writing that fic at the moment, I don’t have the time, but I couldn’t help writing a quick oneshot from that universe. This is how I imagined the scene where Oliver and Felicity meet for the first time at one of the street races and it is very much inspired by the scene in the movie when Brian meets Dom. If anyone is interested in continuing it from here or writing a completely different interpretation of their own, I would be more than happy to read it. I’m also here if anyone wants to bounce ideas off each other, cause I’ve got plenty regarding this au. There’s also another scene from this verse that I have in mind and will probably end up writing sometime in the future. Anyways, enough with my babbling and on to the fic. Enjoy! :)

tagging: ninjawithwifi amellthirst queenollies lieutenantsmoak wittyfelicity sorrywhatever pansexualsmoak olicitykisses kcntclark curtlazars oliversjonas wifeysmoaks smoakinamell queensagents snowssmoak dropoutboys


It took three days before Oliver finally got a tip on when the next street race was going down. Thea hadn’t been too happy about his sudden reappearance in town which is why he hadn’t heard about any races until now; not only was she pissed that he hadn’t bothered to come visit for the last 5 years, but she also wasn’t too happy about him getting back into the racing scene. Oliver had assured her that he wasn’t looking to fall back into old habits, he was just curious to see how things had changed since he left.

When he got her text at 9pm telling him where to go if he wanted to check things out Oliver quickly threw on a plain t-shirt and jeans before grabbing his keys and jumping in his all black Subaru Impreza, courtesy of John Diggle, Starling City PD Chief who was helping on the case.

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winchestersandwordprocessors  asked:

Alrighty, gimme your #1 Winchester headcanon!

Oh god. The last time I had an opinion about Supernatural it didn’t go over well. :/ But if you insist. This isn’t my #1, but just something I’ve thought about:


Basically, what were Sam and Dean’s birthdays like when they were young? I’d imagine that Sam’s 1st Birthday wasn’t much of anything, as John would’ve been too out of his mind with grief. How could he celebrate without Mary? How could ANYTHING ever be happy again without Mary? It was all he could do to keep a 1 year-old fed, washed and in diapers; a party was out of the question. 

But Pastor Jim brought in a little cupcake with a candle on it, and said a prayer over little Sammy’s head. Please watch over this little one. Please let losing his mother be the worst thing he ever has to bear. Please let him grow up to know how loved he is. 

Dean showed Sammy how to blow out the candle. “Like this. Puff out your cheeks and poof!” 

Boof!” Sammy screamed happily. Dean laughed and blew the candle out for him. 

John turned away so his boys wouldn’t see his heart breaking–but after that, he always made sure to make an effort. 

Dean’s 6th birthday was something–John had enrolled him in kindergarten seven months earlier, and the sunny-haired kid had made instant friends with everyone in the class. So when Dean mentioned his birthday was coming up, the teacher pulled John aside after class and asked what the party plans were. 

“Uh,” John stammered. “I was thinking, maybe–Plucky Pennywhistle’s? Kids love that place, right?”

And the teacher smiled kindly at this handsome young widower–who clearly had NO CLUE how to plan kid’s parties–and said yes, kids love Plucky’s. And speaking of, some of the other stay-at-home moms love planning parties and would John mind terribly if they pitched in a bit? Just to give them something to do, you know?

John knew the other moms had plenty to do, and the teacher knew John knew–but he accepted the lie gratefully. The next day, Dean came to school with an envelope addressed to the teacher. Inside was $1000 cash and a note that said, “He loves cars and cowboys. Will this be enough? I want him to smile again. -JW”

The teacher didn’t cry. Not in front of the kids. 

What she did was activate the phone tree, marshaling an army of no-nonsense moms. They passed out invitations with pictures of cowboys driving cherry red Ford Mustangs on them to everyone in the class, bought balloons and streamers, and made sure there were carrots and juice boxes to go along with all the pizza they ordered from Plucky’s. 

John promised to provide the cake. 

On the day of the party, little Dean walked into a cowboys and cars-themed wonderland, topped by a mountain of presents. When the moms crowded around Dean, he clung to John’s hand and hid–but they were so nice, and offered him pizza and juice, and all his friends were there–

–within minutes, he was off: playing tag, jumping in the ballpit, racking up tickets from the skeeball machine. Two year-old Sammy toddled after him, and Dean had a great time lifting his baby brother up high so he could dunk the balls at the “Hoops” machine. 

Meanwhile, John carefully unwrapped the aluminum foil from around a vaguely circular, rather lumpy cake. “I tried to recreate the recipe his mom always used. It tastes okay, but–”

The other moms looked at the sad little cake and grinned. One of them was sent out for icing; another produced a giant sparkler candle shaped like a ‘6′. It took them a few minutes, but by the time they were ready to sing “Happy Birthday,” the cake looked as fancy as if Mary herself had baked it. 

The party only lasted a few hours, but both boys were exhausted by the time John finished packing all the presents into the trunk of the Impala. 

As they drove back to their skeezy little motel–Sammy asleep in his carseat and Dean riding up front like a Big Boy–John asked, “Did you have a good time today, buddy?”

“Best day ever, Dad.” Dean passed the giant slinky he’d exchanged his tickets for from hand to hand. “It was awesome!” 

“Awesome, huh?”

“Yeah, this kid at school always says that. It means real good and nice.”

“Does it?” John smiled. “Good to know.”

There was a long pause. “Daddy?”


“You’re awesome.”

John could barely get the words out around the sudden lump in his throat. “Thank you, Dean. You’re awesome, too.” 

And that’s why, years later, Dean always dropped Sam off at Plucky Pennywhistle’s whenever he needed some time away from babysitting–because kids love those places, right? 

Wildest Dreams

Character(s): Sam
Author: nac-winchester (my SPN blog)
Reader Gender: Female
Word Count: 1466
Warnings: none
Based off Taylor Swift’s “Wildest Dreams” from her new album. 

I had bought the bulky Polaroid camera at a flea market next to an investigation Sam and I were working at. We wandered over to the shabby mill just for kicks when we passed this vintage stand. I had a sweet tooth when it came to older things such as music and technology. Sam didn’t know this too much at the time, so I told him to wait for me by a stand that sold knives.

I remember walking up to that stand feeling both anxious and excited. The camera sat on top of a small box labeled “film”. Immediately, I knew I just had to have it. There was a sample picture beside the box to show how well the camera worked. In that Polaroid, a young couple smiled at the lense while standing in front of a lake. The man sitting in a chair stood up and grabbed his cane before hobbling over to me. “Are you interested in my camera?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I answered and glanced at the knife stand in my peripheral vision. The old man smiled in front of me.

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Falling Pt. 1

Title: Ring of Fire

Pairing: Dean x (Y/n)

Word count: 1,282

Theme song: Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash  

Description: This is just part one to a series (I don’t know how long it will be) where each chapter will be a new song. In this one you are Bobby’s adopted daughter and the boys don’t know about you. They show up to Bobby’s and Dean is startled to find he feels much more than a physical attraction to you. But he’s even more startled to find that he’s not his usual smooth self around you.

A/N: so… I’m writing a fanfic. Hahahhah…. HAHAHAHAHAH OH GOD I’M NERVOUS. I’M SO SORRY IF ITS TERRIBLE.

Next Part  

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First Date || Shaine

Shay got home from soccer practice around five that night and rushed to get ready. He grabbed a sandwich on the way to his room not knowing if they would grab more food than the ice cream they planned. He got up to his room and freaked. His clothes he had picked out last night had grey dog hair on them. “Banrion did you get hair on Daddy’s clothes? He has a date tonight!”, he said to his Irish wolfhound. Luckily he found the lint brush. He got the hair off and took the outfit with him to the bathroom so she couldn’t get it furry again. He showered since he was covered in sweat from the soccer drills today. Coach was harder on them because of the game tomorrow. Getting out he used a little cologne and brushed his teeth before getting dressed. Tight light blue boxer briefs went on followed by skinny white jeans, a bright blue button up shirt that matched his eyes and matching Converse Chuck Taylor low rise tennis shoes.

Once he was dressed he grabbed his wallet, cell phone, the little gift he bought Blaine, the box of cookies he’d baked and the bag he packed just in case he got to tired at Blaine’s house to drive back home. He kissed Bana’s head goodbye and headed downstairs. He yelled goodbye to his family, ran outside and after setting his bag in the trunk got in the car. He loved his car, a cherry red mustang convertible. He drove to Blaine’s house the wind blowing in his hair, music playing on the radio as he sang along. Soon he got to the Anderson’s residence. He grabbed the little puppy dog stuffed animal that had reminded him of Blaine’s puppy dog eyes and the box of cookies after he parked. He walked up the front walk and then standing on the front porch knocked on the door. He waited for Blaine bouncing a little as he stood there since he was so excited. When the door was opened he grinned. “Hi gorgeous. I brought you a friend. His puppy dog eyes are almost as cute as yours.”, he said holding the dog up.  He handed him the box of cookies and giggled. “Make sure Captain Obvious gets those okay?”, he added.