room 126

Life on the Road

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

Written for @atc74 and @mamaredd123‘s Fabulous 300 Challenge

Prompts: Drivin’ My Life Away by Eddie Rabbit, main character kills someone, acceptance

Characters/Pairing: Reader, Sam, Dean

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning: You kill someone

Paved roads, gravel roads, dirt roads, any roads–you’ve driven them all. It’s been at least two years, maybe more, maybe less, since you left home. You’ve never really kept track of the time. You had intended to find a job, an apartment, roots somewhere–anywhere really–but instead you found that the open road called your name and you didn’t need roots; you just needed gasoline and places to go. There was this diner and that diner, this landmark and that landmark, so many places to see and experience, none of them important in your family’s eyes, but all of them worthwhile to you. It was the same routine everyday but with new people, new landscapes, and new foods. You weren’t sure if you’d found yourself yet either, but life had found you one way or another, in the form of a 1972 Chevy Cheyenne and rubber meeting the road. You were content.

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New Beginnings @samwinchester_rp

It had taken a long time to find a Vessel, finding a devout person these days wasn’t easy. Finding a person that was devout & could hold an Archangel’s Grace was even more difficult. They weren’t willing to hop from Vessel to Vessel, the way Lucifer had been. It was time consuming & left the Human Vessels damaged & drained. 


Finally Catherine O'Riley had come along. A young Irish woman, considering a religious life though still weighing her options. She was currently in Nursing school, volunteering where she could & helping those around her. When the Archangel had come to her, spending evenings talking to her, she listened.

 
They told her of Angels, Demons & the Hunters that gave everything to keep Humans safe. The Angel stressed how hard the Hunters worked, how good & brave & truly selfless they were. 


After doing some research on her own, Cat had been willing to negotiate with the Archangel.  They were quite frank with her, & she supposed she should have been embarrassed by some of what the Angel told her. They held nothing back & were quite vivid in detail, some of it quite bloody, some of it quite…raunchy. But they were funny & kind & sweet; & they cared about Humanity & one particular trio of Hunters. So she did some more research on them. If she…well, her body was going to be spending quality time with them, she wanted to know a little about them. 


She took put her most treasured possessions into storage, donating the rest. She was an only child, her parents passed away some years before. It was easy to explain to her friends that she was going to travel the world to do humanitarian work.Finally, she granted the Archangel permission to possess her body. Catherine ‘Cat’ O'Riley became Gabrielle, better know as the Archangel Gabriel.


She had been trailing the Hunters for weeks now. Catching up to them when they were taken into custody for the attempted assignation of the President. It was radio silence after that.

 
Nothing

Even using her Angelic abilities there was nothing. Never let it be said the Humans weren’t resourceful. Of course if Castiel would take the damn scrimshaw off their ribs, it would have been easier to find them.


Then out of nowhere the Reaper, Billie was found dead; killed by Castiel. Once again she was on their trail. The middle of nowhere Colorado & she found them. Then it was back to Lebanon, Kansas. 

Gabby was holed up in one of the better hotel rooms in town (which wasn’t saying much as far as she was concerned), but she didn’t dare to expend too much Angel Mojo, not yet anyway.  She hemmed & hawed over how to contact Sam, finally deciding an e-mail would have to do.  

*****

Hey, Kiddo-

Wonder if you remember me?  Helped you out of a situation a few years ago, though I’m sure quite a few people meet that description at this point.  

Anywho, I know I’ve been gone a long time…& some things have changed, I know Cassie is still with you & Dean-O…& well, I was wondering if maybe you might want some additional assistance…someone who was actually there with the Nephilim the first time around?

Ohhhh…Got your interest now, don’t I? ;) 

We can do this one of two ways.  I’m staying at the Buckshot Inn, not the classiest joint in the world, but talk about slim pickings here. My room number is 126. If you don’t come to my room by dinner time…say 6pm, I’ll be at the Jiffy Burger, they look like they serve a mean milkshake; we can go Dutch. ;)

Looking forward to seeing you. 

~ G.

*****

After sending the e-mail, Gabby paced the room, stopping every now & then to take in her new appearance.She was dressed in a pair of relaxed fit jeans (she hadn’t gotten comfortable with skinny jeans just yet) & a vintage Areosmith t-Shirt, plaid flannel shirt open over it. She had on a pair of beat-up old Doc Marten boots.Still short, shorter then her previous Vessel, but only about average for a woman, 5′5″. Her hair was blonder then it had been, & in a short pixie style; her eyes a richer brown. When she smiled, she actually had some pretty cute dimples, but she was too nervous to smile right now. She snorted softly, she, the Archangel Gabrielle was nervous

Sam Winchester had no idea the power he held over her. What if he didn’t like Gabby’s new Vessel? No matter that he may not even show. Or any of a thousand other things that could happen, all Gabby cared about was: What if he doesn’t like me? She snorted at her reflection in the mirror, “He probably didn’t much like you as Gabriel, soooooo…who even knows?”  Her voice had the accent of the Irish hills & she raised an eyebrow at herself.  “C’mon, Kiddo. Show, don’t make me do this in public…” She glanced at the clock on the bedside table, 5:45pm, fifteen minuets. 

6

Palace Of The Week - Esterhàzy Palace

    The Esterházy Palace is located in Fertőd, Hungary. The first palace was built in 1721 but the Prince Nicolas 1st Esterházy decided to build a baroque palace which was finished in 1766. The palace is not really big. There are only 126 rooms, when Schönbrunn has 1.444 rooms and Versailles  2.300. This palace was meant to be the “Hungarian Versailles”, like many palaces at this time, with many windows and french gardens. But on the pictures you can see that the palace has a very different style as Versailles. It all looks more german or austrian. I really like this palace. It is quite simple, elegant and really luxurious.  It would be a perfect summer palace with the gardens and the forest not far away.

Three Little Words

Warnings: angst, car accident, blood, death

Word Count: 2158

Summary: Imagine that you are driving in the Impala with Dean, and you get in a really bad car accident.

A/N: I didn’t have a request for this one, but I felt like doing a really angsty one, full of feels. So prepare yourselves.

Metallica, of course, was blasting through the Impala’s speakers as Dean sped down the road. It was just you and Dean in the car, as Sam had caught hold of another case, which he insisted he needed to thoroughly research into, meaning he stayed back at the Bunker, while the two of you went to investigate a case nearby.

But as you sussed out the victims of a supposedly winged creature almost killing them, you came to the conclusion that they were just stoned hippies who were seeing all kinds of crap in the darkness. So no case at all. Just a small town trying to make headlines.

You were on your way back to the bunker, sighing every couple of minutes because you were getting weary and tired, as it was the late hours of the night. A headache began to pound in your temples, so you turned to Dean, who was thoroughly enjoying his music selection.

“Hey Dean!” you practically shouted through the music, “Could you please turn it down? I’m getting a headache.” He looked at you for a few moments, before registering your words, and turning the volume down.

“Are you getting soft on me now?” Dean smirked, as his attention went back to the road, “Can’t even handle a little Metallica?”

You laughed, “Shut up,” giving Dean a punch to arm. He brought his attention back to you, “Is that how it’s going to be then?” He started tickling you, in spots he knew you were weakest. You starting giggling, batting his hand away from you.

While Dean was getting you back, the Impala slowly drifted into the other lane. A small truck going at full speed honked its horn to get either of your attention. Dean’s eyes snapped back to the road, and in a desperate attempt to get away from the truck, he swerved the car to the side. But it was too late.

You heard the smash of glass and the crash of the truck into the side of the Impala, which was the side that you were seated on. The Impala was pushed backwards due to the impact of the collision. Luckily, the truck had braked completely so it didn’t collide with the car again.

Silence. The silence afterwards was when you registered what just occurred. You realised your eyes were closed, which you didn’t remember closing in the first place. You slowly blinked your eyes open to the scene around you. Your head was lying on the dashboard, your head pointed in Dean’s direction. You took in his appearance. He was conscious, thank god, and taking in his surroundings just as you were. His eyes connected with yours, and they instantly lit up with fear. Dean slowly lifted his head up, before hastily trying to unbuckle his seatbelt, (which luckily unbuckled with ease).

You tried to do the same but you couldn’t. You physically couldn’t. Your body felt exhausted and weary, and you could feel the warmth of blood trickling down your forehead. Dean noticed that you were struggling. He quickly leaned over and cupped your head in his hands. You felt an immediate pang in your neck, which initiated a chain reaction of overwhelming pain to overcome your entire body. You cried out in pain, with tears trickling down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, hey Y/N,” Dean comforted with watery eyes, “It’s going to be okay, we’re going to get an ambulance to come and pick us up, okay?” You tried to stifle a small nod in response. He looked up, out of the front window (at least what was left of it), and called out for the truck driver to call an ambulance. Then Dean’s attention was immediately back on you. You could hear the murmurs of the man calling for assistance. And that’s when it began to fade.

Fatigue overcame your body, and your eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier. You tried to keep them open, but it was becoming a harder battle as every second passed. Dean noticed your eyelids beginning to close.

“No, no, no, come on Y/N, you gotta stay with me. You have to keep your eyes open. You have to keep them open Y/N.” He gave your head little shakes in an attempt to keep you conscious. Dean continued to reassure you, but his voice was slowly fading out. You could see him yelling at you now, but it just sounded muffled. Your eyelids became too heavy to keep open any longer. Darkness overcame you, and you blacked out.


The ambulance arrived minutes after you fell unconscious. Dean frantically jumped out of the Impala, and ran around to your side, ignoring the throbbing in his leg, before opening your door. He turned your head to face him, despite your unconscious state. Ambulance officers scrambled out across the scene, most of which ran to the Impala. Dean was desperately trying to keep it together, but almost lost it when the officers asked him to move away, so they could exit you as quickly and as gingerly as possible.

Dean could do nothing but watch the officers carry your limp body onto a gurney, before following it to the ambulance. They strapped you into place, as the ambulance sped off down to the hospital. They also lay Dean down on a gurney next to yours, as they observed Dean’s leg dripping in blood, which he hadn’t taken any notice of as he was running on adrenalin.

Connecting all sorts of tubes to you, they set up a heart monitor to stabilise your condition. Dean didn’t take his eyes off you, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath.

It killed him to see you like this. He didn’t understand how someone so bubbly and fun and beautiful and so full of life, could look so tortured. It killed him to see the girl that he cared for, slowly slipping from his grasp. But what killed him most, is that he never even told you those three little words. Those three words that he wished he could have told you months ago, but could never bring himself to say.

In what felt like minutes, the ambulance jolted to stop at the hospital. The doors flew open, and you were wheeled out first, leaving Dean behind calling out your name, struggling to get out of his gurney to which he was strapped. As he watched you go out of sight, Dean slammed his head against the pillow in defeat.


It had been three hours since you were admitted into the hospital. Three hours since you were taken into surgery. Three hours Dean had been waiting, for you.

He had been cleared for any major injuries with his leg, so he got by with a few stitches. Oh how he wished it was you who was just getting stitches. Instead, you were battling for your life.

Dean had called Sam as soon as he got to the hospital. Dean didn’t say much to him, except that they were in a car accident and were at the hospital. He couldn’t find any other words to describe the detail of what happened. He just didn’t want it to be real.

Sam arrived within the hour that he was called. He stayed with Dean in the waiting room, exchanging very few words. Neither of the brothers had broken down yet, as Sam was staying strong for Dean’s sake, as Dean was just barely holding onto his tears.

A male doctor walked into the waiting ward, “Um, anyone for Y/N Y/L/N?” Both brothers instantly shot out of their seats and made their way over to him. Sam spoke, “Um, yes, how is she?”

The doctor looked at Sam and Dean with a grave look as he said, “The injuries she suffered in the crash were quite major. She has been lucky to hold on this long. Unfortunately, her condition has only worsened. Her heart rate is slowly decreasing, because of the amount of blood loss experienced.”

Dean couldn’t speak, so he just continued to observe the doctor for any signs of good news. Sam noticed Dean’s lack of speech, so he asked, “So what does this mean? Can we see her?”

“It means that her heart could give up at any moment, and there is nothing we can do about,” the doctor continued, “You can see her in room 126, just on the right.” The doctor gave both brothers a sad smile and a nod before returning to the surgical ward.

That’s when Dean ran. He sprinted to the room 126. Sam stayed behind in the waiting ward, because even though you and Sam were best friends, he knew Dean needed his time alone with you, while you were still breathing. Even if it was only for a few moments.

Dean watched each room number flit past him until he approached the bold numbers reading: 126. He breathed to regain composure and prepare himself to what he may see, before finally entering your room.

He saw you lying there, connected to all sorts of machines that were trying to keep you alive. He saw the way your chest was moving up and down, but not in the way it usually should. It was going much slower, and gentler.

Slowly, he made his way over to your bedside. He pulled up a chair, and sat down right beside you. Your upper body was propped up, so the blood that was still pumping through your veins could circulate your body. Your face looked drained of colour; sickly white with purple splotches of bruise from the beating your head took.

Dean couldn’t handle seeing you in pain, not when he himself was alive and healthy. That’s when the first tear was shed, which slowly ran down his cheek. He hadn’t cried the entire night, but was always close to breaking point. And seeing you like this was his breaking point.

He desperately grabbed your hand for some form of support as his throat wracked with sobs. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, and he knew that you may never wake up, so he began to speak, still clutching at your hand, unable to look at your almost lifeless face.

“Y/N,” Dean breathed, “I have no idea where to start. I could maybe start with how perfect you look every morning in the warm glow of the sunshine. Or I could start with the way you laugh so hard that you literally fall to the ground in laughter. Or even the way you…” He stopped suddenly, when he felt movement in his hand; your fingers gently squeezing around his.

Dean looked up to see you slowly blinking your eyes open. You parted your lips, breathing out softly, “Hey Dean.” Dean smiled through his tears, as he brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed it. 

You managed to stifle a small smile despite the aches of pain that were all over your body. You tried to speak again, but could feel the shortness of breath in your lungs. You tried not to show any panic, so you attempted to breathe slowly in and out, to conserve what little air you knew you had left.

Dean coughed to clear his throat. He needed to tell you everything, just as he was doing so before. But most importantly, he needed to tell you those three little words he’d kept to himself for so long.

“Y/N, I need to confess something. Something that I’ve been holding back for a long time. I know I’m not one for chick flick moments, but I have to do this. Y/N, I…” His speech was interrupted by the sudden beeping of the heart monitor beside you. Your eyes began to widen, as you could feel your inability to breathe.

Dean let go of your hand, reaching his hands to your face, cupping your head in his hands, just as he had done before in the Impala. You continued to struggle as you attempted to gasp for air, shaking in the process.

“Come Y/N, you gotta stay with me, you hear?!” he assured forcefully, “You are not going anywhere, not on my watch, not today!”

The shaking stopped.

The heart monitor’s constant beeping came to a single long beep.

Dean watched the life drain out of your eyes, as your whole body became limp.

He just stared into your eyes, hoping and wishing that you would smile and tell him that it was all a joke. But you didn’t smile. You didn’t even blink.

Dean slowly closed your eyes, as silent tears rolled down his face. He brought your forehead to his lips, gently kissing your delicate skin. He then brought his own forehead to yours, and just held it there.

He just sat there in the silence of the room, before whispering, “I love you.”

And there it was. Those three little words.

Me on everyday except Justin’s birthday: I love him ❤️
Me on March 1st: Me? Obsessed with Justin Bieber? The one who was born on March 1st, 1994 at 12:56 A.M. on a rainy Tuesday? On the 60th day and the 9th week of 1994? In St. Judes Hospital in London, Ontario, Canada in room 126 on the second floor? Who’s doctor is called Dr. Simon Bexlaham? Who weighed 7 pounds and 11 ounces? With blood type AB+ and how there were no blue blankets, so they gave him a purple one? Nah this is called being a BELIEBER. ♥

anonymous asked:

Are you an actual real belieber because you still refer justin to bizzle??

WAIT HOLD UP!!!!

You are asking me…

The girl who has been stanning Justin Drew Bieber since 2009, the girl who knows that he was born on March 1st 1994 at 12:56 on a rainy tuesday in St Judes Hospital, he weighed 7lbs and 11oz and was delivered by Dr. Simon Bexlaham.. His birth room was 126 and it was on the second floor

Originally posted by gladgrande

I think you need some milk

Me? Obsessed with Justin Bieber? The one who was born on March 1st, 1994 at 12:56 A.M. on a rainyTuesday? On the 60th day and the 9th week of 1994? In St. Judes Hospital in London, Ontario, Canada in room 126 on the second floor? Who’s doctor is called Dr. Simon Bexlaham? Who weighed 7 pounds and 11 ounces? With blood type AB+ and how there were no blue blankets, so they gave him a purple one?Nah this is called being a BELIEBER. ♥