The Nagra IV-L is a self-contained high performance sound recorder of exceptional reliability. It will operate in any position. It can be powered either by internal batteries, or an external AC supply using an ATN power unit (not included). It is built to military and aeronautical standards, thus giving the recorder a reliability which has not been available heretofore in the electro-acoustical field. The Nagra IV-L is a single track monaural recorder that replaces the Nagra III PHO synchronous recorder.
you know what really fucking grinds my gears? the fact that amazing organizations like You Can Play can spend so much time, money, and effort doing their best to make hockey inclusive - they can get players to use rainbow tape, they can have players and coaches release statements, they can encourage players to speak up against homophobia - but all of that means jack shit when a kid can still be watching his favorite team play and see some douchebag like andrew shaw using the f-slur. i know it was a while ago, and i know he apologized, but that doesn’t undo the fact that, no matter how hard YCP works, kids will still see shit like that and think “yeah, it still happens on the ice” or “yeah it probably happens in the locker room.” it’s fucking bullshit that so many people can work so hard just so that people aren’t scared to play hockey and be open about their sexuality, and some dumbass can fuck it all up in .2 seconds bc he didn’t agree with a fucking tripping call.
Dean woke up around 5am on Monday morning. It had been three months since you, his 18 year old sister, had decided to take your own life. Him and Sam never got a note, you were just gone and that was all they knew. They were too late to save you and that bothered him. Every morning since that day he woke up at 5am. He realised there was no going back to sleep so he climbed out of bed and headed to the door. When he opened the door he was surprised to be greeted with a small box in front of his feet. Dean looked left and right and noticed Sam wasn’t around to have just placed the box there. He sighed, picked it up, shut his door and walked back to his bed.
As he opened up the box he was confused as he noticed that all was inside were tapes. Why would someone give him a box of tapes? Dean rummaged through the box on his shelf and found his old tape player that John had given him when he was a kid and wanted to listen to AC/DC. He put the first mysterious tape inside the player and pressed play.
“Hello,” the familiar voice that he hadn’t heard for three months spoke which almost hurt his ears to know that he could hear in tape form. He must have been mistaken… It couldn’t be!
“My name is Y/N Winchester,” your tape continued. “I’m about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended… And if you’re listening to this tape,” The tape paused for a moment and Dean waited in suspense. “You’re one of the reasons why.”
He pulled the headphones off his head and sat there for a moment. He couldn’t believe the voice or words he was hearing. How could this be real? How could he really be hearing it? Having to listen to the voice of his deceased sister was hard for him, but the only way to find out more was listening to the tapes… So he continued. It wasn’t a fast decision, he took a breath and thought about just throwing them away. But then he would never know the reason why. This was like your suicide note, only in the form of 13 tapes.
His shaky hands picked up the headphones and placed them carefully on his head. He pressed play on the tape player and continued to listen. “As there are to every story, there are 13 different sides to this. I’m going to tell you all of them. Each tape is based on one of the people that are the reason my life ended. So, once you’ve listened to all the tapes you need to pass these on to the next person. If you don’t, well, just know that someone is always watching every single one of you and will make sure that all the tapes are listened to by every person. Now that you understand.. Let me begin with my first tape.”
Dean closed his eyes and followed the story you were telling. “First up, we have the thing that started it all… It was a normal day for you maybe, but not me at all. I didn’t know about hunting or any of that, not until you told me. I went to find you after mom had said she saw you earlier that day, I thought maybe it would be a chance for me to meet my father for the first time. Incase you hadn’t figured it out by now, we have our first person of the story. Welcome to your tape, John.”
Dean realised that John could have been the one these tapes outside of Dean’s room. He almost forgot that both of his parents now lived in the bunker with him and Sam. John must have listened to the tapes before him. Or maybe it was Mary? Since you died they both acted weirdly around both the boys, but then again, Mary acted strangely around you anyway so maybe she had something to do with all of this. He didn’t have time to think as the tape continued to play and tell Dean the story of what happened to you.
* * *
You were a nervous wreck ever since you joined your father and his two sons. Your mom insisted on you moving in with John so that you could bond and get to know your father after all those years of wishing you knew him. You knew it wouldn’t be easy meeting him when the day came, but you never expected it to be that hard.
He told you all about hunting and all his excuses of why he left you and your mother. They were stupid and you hated listening to him explaining, you needed someone to take your anger out on and that person was John. You needed to scream and shout at him every now and then for small things just so you could release some of the pain that he made you feel for most of your life.
But that shit didn’t fly with John, you either did as he said or you were gone. “It’s my way or the highway,” you recalled him saying to you a few times after your arguments. Sam and Dean didn’t live with John really, it was more like John lived with them, along with Mary Winchester. They owned this thing called the Men Of Letters Bunker. The place was huge, so many bedrooms you couldn’t count, you could have sworn you found a new room there everyday.
Before John moved in here, him and his wife (who was also the two boy’s mother) had come back to life after so many years. They didn’t fit into the word exactly so they relied on hunting as what kept them grounded. Sam, Dean, John, Mary and you. That’s how it was. Of course, being the youngest meant that you had to follow everyone’s rules and it was for your own ‘safety.’
* * *
“For my own safety? That was complete bullshit,” you spoke smoothly through Dean’s headphones. “You just wanted someone to boss around, dad. You couldn’t control Sam and Dean anymore, so you made sure that you could completely control me. Before that I didn’t have anyone controlling me, I could do what I wanted and act however I thought was right for me. You took that from me… That’s where it all started going down hill, it’s where I started to break.”
Dean once again paused the tape. He checked his nightstand and saw that it was now 6am. How had time moved so quickly? How long had it taken him to listen to this short part of the tape? He knew he had taken it out at the beginning because it was too hard to listen to, but he never knew he was stalling for so long.
A break from this right now seemed appropriate. So, he took the headset off, left it on his bed and headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. Every step he took felt heavier than the last. This wasn’t something new, it had been happening ever since you took your life, but now it was hitting him harder. It made every movement more painful than they had been before; he didn’t even know that was possible until now.
Once he reached the kitchen, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Mary, John and Sam were already there and eating breakfast. Sam was still at the stove, finishing up cooking some eggs and the rest of the bacon while John and Mary sat opposite each other and ate what they already had. “Dean,” John said by surprise. “You’re up later than usual.”
“It’s 6am,” Dean replied with a gravelly voice that he always had when he was tired. Lately, it seemed to be the only voice he had.
“You’re usually up at around 5,” John noted. Sam came and sat down next to Mary at the table and placed a plate down for himself and for Dean.
“You hungry?” Sam asked and Dean joined them at the table. “How you holding up?”
“I feel… Different to what I have for the last few months,” Dean replied to his little brother. “You know, I actually woke up at 5am again today. I stayed in my room because I found something left outside my door.”
All of their eyes widened as Dean spoke. They looked at each other before John spoke. “So she finally finished listening to them.”
“What? Who?” Dean questioned as he squeezed his fork tightly in his hand.
“We can’t talk about this,” Mary recalled before picking up a piece of bacon from her plate and eating it.
“You can’t do that to me! Who are you talking about?!” Dean demanded as he threw his fork down.
“The last person that had the tapes,” John told him which earned a glance from Mary and Sam.
“The tapes… You’ve all listened to them?” Dean looked around at them all. They were faces of the people he knew, they were his family. But they all felt so unfamiliar, like strangers with secrets.
“We can’t talk about it, you need to listen to the tapes,” Sam finished before taking his plate over to the trash can and throwing his food away.
“Are any of you on there? Who is the ‘she’ that you’re talking about? Is it someone else on the tapes?” Dean asked quickly, not giving them time to answer any of them as he continued. “Are you all on the tapes?”
“Dean, we can’t,” Mary snapped. “You have to just listen to the tapes, everyone on there had to.”
He stood up and made his way to the exit of the kitchen but stopped in his tracks.
“It’s hard to listen to,” Dean admitted with a sad voice. He stood in the door way as he spoke to them. “It’s the voice of my dead sister.”
“Dean!” John hissed. He looked at his son standing in there, he looked so heartbroken and vulnerable. “Please son, just listen to the tapes.”
Dean glared at them all. If looks could kill, they would all be dead in a second. He stormed off and went back to his room, it turned out he didn’t get any food or a drink to soothe his feelings of anxiety right now. He returned in the same state he was in before. Dean placed the headset back on his ears and continued to listen to John’s tape.
“But that wasn’t all, was it dad?” You questioned rhetorically. “No, you did more than just boss me around. When you realised you couldn’t do it anymore, you did the only thing that you thought you could do to end the lack of control…”
* * *
It was a few months after you had moved into the bunker and began your training to become a hunter. It wasn’t the physical side of it all because you already knew how to fight after your countless years of being bullied at school. That’s why the boys and your dad were so okay with you going hunting with them; they knew you could take care of yourself.
It was the research of it all. You weren’t used to connecting the dots with how certain monsters acted or what they did with how the victims had died. You gradually became better at it, but you weren’t as good as your brothers because they grew up doing it. You knew that. You understood that.
John didn’t seem to though. All he did was compared you to Sam and Dean and demanded that you become a smarter person. That wasn’t something you could just do, you can’t just snap your fingers one day and get what you want. You have to work for shit like that, it takes time and patience… But those were two things that John lacked.
It was that one day in the motel you were all staying in. The report in the paper said that the bystanders smelled sulphur after the woman was attacked. That was easy enough to figure out, right? Wrong. You weren’t trained enough in the mythology of monsters and you had no idea that sulphur was a sign of demons. You read past it and said there was nothing in there that could have been your kind of thing.
John insisted that you had missed something, just like he always did. You hated when you had to look for cases in the paper. Either you would misjudge it and say you had found a case or you would read past it too quickly and not realise that there was your kind of thing going on. No. You never got it right, so John always checked.
He held the paper in his hand as he sat opposite you at the small table in the motel. You watched nervously as his eyes scanned over the front page and read about the current murder spree going around. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned as he slammed the paper down on the table. “You’re kidding me right, Y/N? You don’t see a case here?”
“Uh, no, sir,” you replied shakily. Sam and Dean noticed your worry from where they were sitting on the beds. Mary was currently out on a supply run.
“It says here the by passers could smell sulphur,” John stated as he looked over at his sons.
“So what are we thinking, a demon?” Dean asked while he continued to clean his gun.
John clicked his tongue and Dean’s answer as if it was obvious. “Exactly… A demon.”
“A demon?” You questioned as you looked between all of them.
“The smell of sulphur is an instant alert for a demon,” Sam told you with a smile. He didn’t mind teaching you, he actually enjoyed it. He liked passing on his knowledge with you and helping you become a better hunter. He had patience… John didn’t.
“Yeah,” John snapped. “Every hunter should know that.”
You hated when he got like this because you instantly knew it was a dig at you and you were tired of it. The boys saw nothing of it because they didn’t pay enough attention. That’s why they thought you were in the wrong when you snapped back.
“Well, I’m still new at this so you can’t expect me to know everything,” you hissed which got John’s back up. You were glad it pissed him off, it was time that he took you seriously.
“You do not speak to your father like that!” He shouted as he stood from his chair and pushed it back aggressively.
You stood up too so you could regain dominance in the conversation. “What kind of father are you? I barely even know you!”
“This isn’t about me,” he replied with a steady tone.
“Yes it is!” You screamed. “This is about you… This is about what you didn’t do. You weren’t there because you were too busy hunting with your other family. And yes, I know that you died when I was a kid, but even when you came back to life you didn’t bother looking for me.”
“I thought we were past this,” he growled with flared nostrils.
“We are. We are past this,” you lied. You weren’t over it, but you had to pretend you were for the sake of everyone else. “I’m not reminding you about it because I’m hurt, I’m reminding you because you need to understand my point of view. I’m not good at researching cases with you because I was never here for it. And you’re not good at being a father to me because you were never there.”
When you finished your statement it was as if the world stopped for a minute. You came to terms with what you had said and realised that you meant it; John wasn’t as accepting towards the statement as you were. The boys both gasped as they saw John’s hand being drawn back.
Before you could react to his movement, John’s hand made harsh contact with your cheek. It was enough force that if pushed you to the floor. You breathed heavily as you stood up; you were holding your hand against your cheek in disbelief.
“You asshole!” You growled as your stood on your feet. “You fucking asshole!”
“What the hell is going on?” Mary demanded as she walked through the door. “Y/N? What happened to your face?”
“It was dad! He slapped me!” You screamed. “You’re a dick, how could you?!”
“Dad, you crossed the line,” Sam said. “You don’t hit your kids.”
“Things just got out of hand,” Dean insisted. “They should never have gone this far, you need to talk about this and sort it out because this shit has been going on for too long. All you do is argue with each other over the smallest things.”
“Dean! He hit her!” Sam defended as he stood up in annoyance.
“We’ve all hit each other! Hell, we’ve tried to kill each other before,” Dean recalled. You couldn’t believe Dean would actually try and defend his father, you thought he had changed.
“Why are you defending him?!” You fumed.
“I’m not,” Dean said calmly. He put his arms up in defence as he continued to talk. “All I’m saying is we have all done terrible things to each other, our family is messed up. This is something that’s needs to be dealt with and then we move on.”
You scoffed at his words. John looked down at you the same way he always did, his eyes full of hatred and boiling with anger. “There’s nothing to talk about. I want you gone, Y/N.”
“No!” John spat. “I want you gone, get the fuck out of here. Go back to living with your mom, the hunting life isn’t for everyone and you’re most definitely not meant to be a hunter.”
You couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth. You looked at your brothers and saw that even they didn’t know what to say. You grabbed your things, threw them into a backpack and walked out like you weren’t even bothered. But of course you were. You were so desperate for one of them to follow you and beg you to come back… But no one ever did.
* * *
“You hit me in the face. It hurt. But not as much as it hurt when you hit me with rejection and hatred. You wanted me gone… I hated you, John, more than I had ever hated anyone. You felt the same way about me and I wasn’t going to stick around for that so I headed back to my moms.”
Dean once again removed the headphones and paused the tape. There wasn’t long left of this tape but it was so hard for him to listen to. He checked his clock on his nightstand once again and saw that it was now 1:35pm. Food. He needed food.
Another walk to the kitchen with pain in his steps led to a nervous feeling in his stomach. What John had done to you was so bad, what if Dean’s was worse? What if he had hurt you but had no idea that it had affected you so badly? Dean was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw his father sitting alone at the kitchen table and drinking a beer.
“Hey, son,” he said with a soft voice. “You doing ok?”
“I’m great,” Dean snapped. “I won’t talk to you and piss you off though, I don’t wanna get a beating.”
John sighed and rubbed his palm over his face. “You listened to my tape.”
“I haven’t finished it yet,” Dean shook his head. “It’s still hard to listen to.”
John didn’t reply to what Dean said, he just took another swig of his beer and stared at the wall. Dean went to the fridge and pulled out some left over bacon that was cooked that morning. He put the plate in front of him and his father at the table as he came and sat opposite him. “Stop staring at the wall and look at me,” Dean demanded. John looked at the disappointment in his sons eyes. “Feeling sorry for yourself won’t bring her back.”
Now he saw something in John that he had never let him see before. It was weakness. “I remember that day,” Dean continued. “I remember that I defended you when you hurt her because I was scared that what you did would make her leave. I was selfish and I wanted her to stay so I tried to justify what happened.”
“I’m not finished,” Dean snapped. “What you did drove her away from our family… The only reason she came back was because she had nowhere else to go after she went home and found her moms dead body. If you didn’t send her away she would never had seen that.”
“You don’t think I know that!” John shouted which caught Dean by surprise. He sighed as he realised his anger had once again got the better of him. “Dean-” his voice was steady and low, “-the reason I did that to her was to protect her.”
“You hit her to protect her?” Dean demanded.
“I pushed her away to protect her,” John said as tears began to form in his eyes. “Before I slapped her I kept snapping at her and being nasty to her because I wanted her to leave so she could be safe. I knew that if I told her that she wouldn’t leave, and no matter how many times I shouted at her or was a complete dick to her she would just get upset… But she would stay. I had to do something that would finally make her leave; I had to make her think that I hated her so that she would hate me. If she stayed with us she would have continued to hunt and I wanted better for her.”
John wiped his tears away before drinking more of his beer. It was as if he thought the alcohol would soothe the sting, but it only made it worse. “I loved my baby,” he cried. “She was my only daughter and she made me proud every day. I’ll never get a chance to tell her that.”
Dean shook his head. He understood why John did what he did and he sympathised with him, but it didn’t matter. That wouldn’t bring you back. It wouldn’t fix anything. “She’s dead because you were too scared to love her.”
Dean didn’t plan on saying it, it was just a thought that popped into his head but he needed to get it out. Secrets were one of the reasons you ended your life, he didn’t want to keep them anymore.
John had no idea how to respond to Dean. How could someone reply to that? He was one of the causes of his daughters death because he was a coward. Dean didn’t even know what to think anymore. He needed to know more. He had one more bite of the bacon before he put the plate back in the fridge and headed back to his room.
They were still there when he got back. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was hoping that the tapes weren’t real and that you were still there in the bunker. When you moved in you told him that you wanted your room next to his so you could knock on the wall if you wanted to talk to each other.
He picked the tape player up, it felt colder than when he last held it. A chill shot down his spine as he thought about the tapes again and how they were all you left behind. Your voice played again in his ears.
“After you kicked me out, dad, I went back for my mom. I ran in to my house, crying my eyes out because of what you did. I wanted comfort from my mom,” you explained. “She was all I needed right at that moment because in my whole life she was all I ever had. But I never got to speak to her… I went into her room and found her covered in blood. She didn’t move… Or breathe… She did nothing.”
Your voice broke as you spoke about your mothers death and Dean closed his eyes at the thought. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to my second tape. And you know who you are when I say that on my next tape, we’re going to talk about the person that murdered my mother.”
Wow have a look at this rare find. Up for auction is a vintage Casio CK–200 boombox. This is a very unique find my friends. This is a boombox that has incorporated into it a keyboard!!! All the keys have been tested and they are in working order. The tape player has also been tested and is also in working order. Am an FM tested and in working order. All the features and functions appear to be operating as they should.
That’s a fucking CD player. (I had acknowledged this before, but last night I just started making the connections here.)
This adds a whole other level to the mixtape. Two possibilities:
1. Dean was in the Continental, but not the truck. (I just went through every single screencap of the interior of that car, and I don’t believe there was a shot of the stereo.) This means that the mixtape predates the truck, meaning Cas had the mixtape for YEARS. This adds layers and layers of sadness to Cas trying to give it back to Dean in 12x19, because that would mean Cas held on to it since possibly season 10 or mid season 11, and that Lucifer had it through all of that. (OR that Cas went back and retrieved it at some point after the Lucifer possession, which… JESUS.)
2. Dean gave it to Cas never knowing that Cas didn’t have a tape player in the truck, meaning Cas might have never listened to it, or he had to track down a tape player to listen to the tape.
3. Dean made it for Cas with the intention of listening to it together in the Impala.
In which you slow dance with the one and only Star-Lord. (insp.)
so desperately wanted to be called Star-Lord, but everyone called him Quill.
Except for you. You preferred to use Peter, and maybe that was why he fell in
love so hard. Rarely did anyone address him without a tinge of sarcasm or
playful banter in their voice—something he was very guilty of reciprocating—but
when you spoke to him, he felt validated in ways he never knew he could. You
gave him a sense of responsibility. A feeling of warmth and excitement. A drive
in life, fueled not by a desire for the admiration of others, but rather, a
need to make you feel the same way he did. Happy.
initial glimpse of Peter was the day of Ronan’s defeat. Hair disheveled.
Clothes torn. Face scratched up. He was dancing to a song you’d never heard,
and your entire body reacted. It tingled and shook from your toes, to your
heart strings, up your throat, to your brain where the sensation settled,
leaving only one thought. Shit. You’d gone through life thinking love at first
sight was nothing more than a myth. But there you were. In love. Or something
like it. You were stubborn when it came to things like that, so you chalked it
up to lust—somehow that felt more dignified.
was alcohol involved in your first encounter. That was always how these things
seemed to go. The big hero, off to celebrate at a local bar; you, the plain
civilian, coincidentally at the same place, standing in a corner. Music was playing, but the melodies were foreign,
and you could only assume that they were his. Most of them were upbeat, but
occasionally things would slow down a little, and that’s when he shined the
brightest. He’d move about the room fluidly, pulling the other patrons close.
Dipping them, spinning them, pressing his body against theirs. Leaving a trail
of longing eyes in his wake. You couldn’t help but feel jealous, but at the
same time, you were grateful. Unless you were alone in the safety of your room,
dancing was not your forte. And so you nursed your drink and watched.
moved closer and you got a better look at his face, confirming that he was the
most unrealistically handsome man you’d ever seen in your life. It was the sort
of thing that held a hypnotic element, capturing your eyes and refusing to let
them free of his spell. The sappiness of it all was enough to make you inwardly
wretch, but as the gap in proximity closed, it became harder to deny fact.