My Changing View

Merry May Day!

2008-05-01T14:40:52Z

My brain effing EATS me.

2008-04-25T15:22:01Z

I know, I know... I'm supposed to be on my way to Pittsburgh right now. But I had to pause and tell you all about my cracked out Jared Padalecki dream.

In my dream my husband and I were at this restaurant where he was going to throw a party for his employees. He had to make sure that the menu was right and whatever. You all know I wasn't paying attention. And then I said something, which I don't remember all of, but went something like: "Blah blah blah Jared Padalecki". And Jared Padalecki showed up behind me and was all "Hi. You're talking about me. Yell at her Jensen." And Jensen was all: "Why? She's right." Then Jared was all pouty and grumpy because Jensen was supposed to defend his manly honor and Jensen dropped me this wink and told Jared that a man would defend his own honor. And I was giggling from the wink and the fact that whatever I had said hadn't been something that really impugned on Jared's honor.

After a while of just being silly at each other we decided that it would be much more Fun if we were running through the restaurant poking each other and making silly noises. To which Jared started poking me in the belly and shouting "EEE EEE EEE EEE EEE" and I smacked him and was all: "Stop making Smidgy's dolphin noises" to which Jared was surprised that I knew what he was doing. And Jensen smacked both of us for making fun of him, which I thought was unfair because really... it was Jared who was making noises.

And then Jared decided to play some weird ass game where he pulled his arms into his sleeves and held them out to me and asked which one was loose. I opened my mouth to say something but both Jensen AND my husband slapped a hand over my mouth. Honestly, I don't know what they thought I was going to say.

And then I woke up and promptly laughed myself silly.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE... Dean's Day!

2008-04-25T02:05:05Z

I cannot tell you how excited I am! I just got off the phone with prettyfreckles who has gotten me all keyed up for SPN. *blows kisses*

I have super yummy wine to go with Boys. How nice. chee.

Before show even starts I want to go on record as saying I'm not thinking that I'm going to be madly in love with the ep. The fact that it looks Blair Witchy and has the kids from 'Hell House' in it. Yeah, I was slightly spoiled before hand. However, I refuse to judge until I've seen the episode.

Hee. Dean. "Raise a little hell." Oh, baby.

"Sex... with grils!" As apposed to with each other? *sporfle*

Dean. I ♥ you. Givin' the finger to the Ghostfacers. chee.

"Love at first geek." I told you that they were sleeping together. *nods* I really need to stop slashing everyone, yes? Is the adopted sister a little, uh, jealous? *whistles* Oh, Show. How you've corrupted me.

I think there's a gay love triangle in air between Corbett, Ed, and Harry!!

"I think he's got the hots for Ed." Fuck. I was fucking kidding with the whole gay thing! See, Show is trying to gently introduce the idea of teh Gay into Show so that we won't be shocked when the big reveal comes later. Hee. Hey, I can hope, right?

In all things not slashy, I'm really glad that the cameras as shaky as I was afraid that they'd be. I can't watch the stuff like Cloverfield and Blair Witch 'cause I get motion sick. Which sucks and I hate feeling like I'mma gonna puke.

I want one of them to say, "Listen! Do you smell something?" or "Great. Somebody blows their nose and you want to keep it."

Dean getting rough with 'em.... me likey.

The ghost looked crappy and fake. Did the Ghostfacers add that into their little documentary? Me thinks so.

Now, I know it's only 15 minutes into it, but I'm not hating it like I thought I would. That counts as a win in my book.

I think the whole death echo thing was in a fanfic. For serious. Sam kept seeing them everywhere, one was a pharmacist and such and Sam wondered if he and Dean had left echos anywhere that would appear after they had died. I'll have to go and look for it. It was good.

I guess Corbett isn't going to be sexxin' Ed after all.

Does Dean like Asian chicks? 'Cause I'm pretty OK with that. Uh huh.

I absolutely adore the faces that Dean makes. He can convey so much with just a look.

Ew. Just ew.

Uh. Whar is Sam? Oh my. Deano is just gonna nuts now, innit he? Worst thing a spook could've done. *giggles* Oh, there's gonna be some good ole ass-kickin' going on as Dean rips whatever took Sammy apart. *vindictive grin*

Chee. Dean's yellin' "Sammy". I love it when he calls Sam that. In my mind that means good ole Deano is well and truly flipping right the fuck out.

I smell ANOTHER love triangle in the air. Oh, yeah.

It's a pah-tay.

Well, shit. They'd better hurry the hell up before something happens to Sam. 'Cause that'll suck if Sam isn't around to save Dean.

Aw, Sam. That's a pretty hat! You look so nice!

Dean sure is swearing a lot. I guess it's 'cause they have an excuse to bleep it out.

OK, now I have a problem with them including the death of their friend and then to keep showing his dead body on their show. That just seems really wrong to me... wouldn't they be upset by their friend's death? And what network would show a death on TV? None of it makes sense to me, but then I'm probably over thinking this episode.

"You've got to go be gay for the poor dead intern!" Oh, yes. Oh, oh, yes. I think I love you, Show. I. Freaking. Love. You.

Aw! Gay love is going to save them all! That is awesome.

Why did Dean cover the camera lens at the end? Was it to indulge in some life saving gay love?

Ha ha, wouldn't it be funny if Sam & Dean had to burn this house down to get rid off all the corpses... a nice echo of Hell House.

Eh, obviously not with the burning.

GAY LOVE SAVES THE DAY!

My gods, I'mma gonna be shouting that FOREVER.

Oh, Boys. Thou are geniuses. I would gladly worship at your feet.

Oh. Nice fucking preview. I'm starting to think I should be a total fucking spoilerphobe. I would rather be surprised by Daddy Winchester's voice from beyond in the episode. Eh, I suppose that there really wasn't anything else to to show as a preview... but still.

WTF ARE THEY GOING TO DO TO END THIS SEASON? I know one thing will be happening but I can't wait to see how they get there. Because, srsly, Papa Winchester bitching Dean out opens up all sorts of crazy opportunities.

OK, so overall I didn't love the episode and it felt a lot like filler. Which just pisses me off because we have an AGENDA to get to and this doesn't forward the story at all. But it was cute and funny and, most importantly, GAY. Still, it was much better than what I was expecting and, man, did I miss Dean. I love me some Dean. DEEEN!

I'm such a bitchy whore

2008-04-23T04:42:02Z

I swear that SPN is trying to vex me with it's print media.

Apparently when I changed my icons I got rid of the 'smoking pole' icon. Tempted to remedy that. But really, how often would I get to use it?

Look, Powers That Be, I'm begging. NO MOAR DeCandido SPN.

I already has a headache.

I have so many questions that I just can't even begin to formulate them. *facepalm* I can't believe that there's another one after 'Nevermore' with it's poor plot, poor characterization, and poor grammar. Oh Dean, Dean, what complete wtfery are we going to be saddled with this time?

Just stop. Please. Can he go back to writing Star Trek books? They seem to like him there. And inflicting him on my husband is much preferred. Mikee already has Kevin J. Anderson.

Ooooh! Maybe DeCandido and Anderson can do a STAR WARS book together! *rubs hands gleefully*

One of these days my sheer bitchery is going to make me explode. *nods*

Help?

2008-04-21T19:02:46Z

Does anyone know where I can find a decent sized picture of the Gallagher Cross?

I've tried searching for it but haven't found anything larger than this:

Which, while nice, doesn't give me the detail I need. I'mma gonna turn it into a cross stitch pattern to make for my in-laws as a Yule gift... but I can't find a decent images so I can see what's going on at the bottom.

Thank you!

Oh hai gais!

2008-04-21T01:37:12Z

So, it's been a while since I posted, neh?

What have I been up to? Well, right after I posted my Ostara blessings I promptly almost cut my finger off. No, I'm not kidding, *sigh*

So, for the past five (or is it six?) weeks I've been healing up. I had to get stitches and my whole hand was wrapped up to look like a mummy's hand and I was grouchy and grumpy because I couldn't do anything that required two hands. Which means that I couldn't even dress myself. How humiliating.

Lirin, our demon kitty, is loving the spring because I am keeping the windows open during the day to get cool air into the house and the good smell of spring air. Unfortunatly, it also makes her wail and howl at the birds, squirrels, and rabbits. Pain in my ass cat.

My baby brother turned 18 yesterday. I feel old. My birthday gift to him was to pay for his first tattoo. Later on this summer he wants us to go and get tattooed together. I'm not sure if we're going to get our family's kamon or if we're each getting something unique. But I'm excited about it and I feel really lucky that we're close enough that we chat all the time and do things like this together.

My husband is going away to Georgia tomorrow morning and won't be back until Thursday. Then on Friday we're going home to State College, picking up said younger brother, then continuing on to Pittsburgh for the comicon there. After the con the Husband and I are going to spend some time in State College with my family and maybe take the other brother out on our romp with Pat. I doubt that Sean will want to go as he doesn't like to drink around family. Although, according to him, he drank like a fish while in Italy.

I need to get to work on my SPN tarot again. *sigh* I think I lost my master list of what characters I want as what cards. I'm such a doofus.

Oh! I've been teaching myself to knit and I've started cross stitching again. I've started yet another blog on it over here: http://pkabyssinian.blogspot.com/ . I'm particularly proud of the front of the cable bag that I'm still working on. =)

So, how have you all been?

Happy Spring!

2008-03-20T18:31:52Z

Uhm, yeah. I've been MIA for a little bit now. Part of it is I suck at keeping more than one journal.

The other part is that I'm kinda not so much with the posting of personal stuff anymore. But still. Happy Spring. Merry Ostara. Hugs and flowers and bunnies and rainbows. *grin*

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

2007-12-07T02:22:32Z

Husband bought me packs of SPN s2 cards.

I GOT THE CARD WITH DEAN'S PANTS IN IT! THE HOSPITAL SCRUB PANTS. SOFT. BLUE.

PANTS!!!

DEAN'S PANTS.

DEAN'S.

PANTS.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

The Giving Tree

2007-12-02T02:39:43Z

Title: The Giving Tree
Author: pkabyssinian
Rating: NC-17~ish
Pairing: Dean/Sam. What else?
Warnings: Wincest. Don’t read if you don’t like that, yes? Also? Not beta’d. I’m too lazy to do have it done right now because I want to post this before we leave for West Virginia.
Summary: They both know that Dean will give Sam anything, do anything that Sam asks and damn the consequences.
Disclaimer: If you think I own them then you is crayzee. I just like to play with the shiny toys.

i.
Sam plunks the bottle of golden whiskey in front of Dean, a twisted grin on his features and Dean knows better than to ask what is going on. He just grins back with a tense anticipation as Sam readies the shots, downs his glass and waits for the refill. Sam has been stressed and snappish since starting his senior year in high school, Dean assumes this is what his little brother needs in order to blow off steam and maybe, just maybe, open up.

Sam’s rictus of a smile stays in place while continually plying Dean with alcohol. Dean isn’t stupid, he notices that Sam isn’t matching him shot for shot; he knows that whatever is coming, it isn’t going to be good. The alcohol burns in the best way as it goes down and Dean waits, knowing that Sam won’t be able to stay silent forever.

The liquid in the bottle lowers until it is half-empty. Everything has fuzzy edges and Dean stopped counting how far Sam was, shot wise, behind him a while ago. His limbs feel loose and disorganized but his mind hasn’t had enough yet to let go of its edge of panic. He grabs the bottle and takes a long pull from it, notices from the corner of his eye that Sam is watching him.

“Wha’s on your mind, Sammy,” Dean says, hopes he isn’t slurring too badly. Sam has leaned back in his chair, the kitchen table solid and wide between them. He has what Dean calls his thoughtful look on, the one that means business.

“I need…” Sam trails off, the words hanging awkwardly between them. They both know that Dean will give Sam anything, do anything that Sam asks and damn the consequences.

“What?” Dean asks as he leans forward, letting the heavy glass bottle settle on the table.

Instead of answering, Sam pushes away from the dinette and is suddenly towering above Dean. Little brother isn’t so little any more, Dean thinks and laughs. It’s a happy, if drunken, sound and Sam flinches away from it.

Without warning Sam is leaning over Dean, his mouth sealed over Dean’s in a desperate almost kiss. Dean jerks back, unsettled and uncertain. He doesn’t spit out recriminations as Sam half expects; he just searches Sam’s face as if he’ll find the answer there. Sam doesn’t know what Dean’s looking for, what emotion he should be displaying in order to get what he wants.

“Please,” Sam whispers and even he doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

What little hope he had sinks as Dean extracts himself from the chair, steps away from Sam. He stands rigidly for a moment and Sam braces himself, waits for Dean to hit him with an unforgiving fist.

“Are you sure?” Dean asks, his breathing is heavy as if he just run five miles.

Sam nods, his bangs flopping into his eyes. Dean reaches out and grabs Sam’s wrist, pulls his brother to him. With a deftness that defies his drunkenness, Dean maneuvers Sam into the tiny room that they sleep in. Their Dad is gone, hunting, probably won’t be back for another week or so. Dean thinks he understands the whiskey now.

With the awkward clumsiness of teenagers, Sam knocks Dean down onto the thin mattress. He’s already scrambling out of his clothes and Dean stops him simply by splaying his hand across the tight skin of Sam’s belly.

“Whoa, slow down there cowboy,” Dean teases. He doesn’t know that his voice is a rough rasp from the whiskey; that is face is open and unguarded. He thinks it’s anticipation that makes Sam shiver like he’s cold.

Dean pulls Sam down next to him, explores Sam’s mouth with a kiss that is almost too sloppy. Sam keens in the back of his throat, his hands pushing and pulling against Dean. Once Dean knows what Sam tastes like, beneath the alcohol and desperation, he lets Sam pull off some of his clothes. Their bare chests slide together and its Dean’s turn to shudder at the contact, to suck his breath in as his eyes drift closed.

Sam’s impatience gets the better of him and he nips at the delicate skin behind Dean’s ear. Dean works on removing their pants while Sam continues to bite and suck at different areas of Dean’s neck. They’re both shaking with desire by the time that they’re naked.

“I… I want your mouth on me,” Sam yelps suddenly, an embarrassed flush covering his cheeks. Dean swallows before nodding, his eyes trailing downwards until they see Sam’s erection. Dean’s tongue lathes down the flat planes of Sam’s stomach, testing and tasting every inch that he can.

Too eager to wait, Sam tangles his fingers in Dean’s short hair and tries to push him lower. The bass chuckle that Dean gives reverberates against Sam’s thigh and makes him cry out wordlessly. Sam has turned into a creature of want and desire, his whole body is flushed and beautiful to Dean.

Keeping his eyes turned upward, Dean’s head slides to the side and his mouth circles the head of Sam’s cock. Unable to keep his hands to himself, Sam’s huge paws are on either side of Dean’s head with Sam’s thumbs lying along Dean’s jaw. Dean starts with shallow bobs of his head, his tongue lapping at the underside of Sam’s cock. Sam’s head falls back on the pillows, his fevered eyes no longer watching Dean.

Sam’s cock is too long for Dean to take all of it in his mouth so he wraps one hand around the bottom half and jerks it while mouthing the top half. He doesn’t expect Sam to last long, since Sammy doesn’t have much stamina while jerking off Dean doubts that he’ll last longer when getting a blow job. Dean’s other hand and arm are doing their best to keep Sam’s hips still, he doesn’t need his brother shoving his entire monster dick into Dean’s mouth.

Just as Dean is certain Sam is going to make him choke, Sammy gives a plaintive wail and begins to come down Dean’s throat. Dean pulls back until only the head of Sam’s dick is in his mouth and swallows what he can. He climbs between his brothers legs and stares down at Sam, laying loose and looking fucked out. Dean did this. He gives a small growl before rubbing his own iron hard cock against the soft groove on Sam’s hip. It only takes a little bit before Dean is coming, his spunk covering that soft skin and part of Sam’s belly.

Dean collapses next to Sam, deeply inhaling the soft scent that he has always associated with Sammy. He curls around his brother, their legs tangled together and Dean’s arms wrapped around Sam.

“I need your help with Dad,” Sam says finally, his voice soft and muffled against Dean’s neck.

“Sure, anything,” Dean tells him, trying and failing to keep the sleepiness out of his voice.

“You aren’t going to like it.”

“I usually don’t,” Dean sighs and Sam hears the honest truth in that statement.

“I. I applied to some colleges. I got in,” Sam finally manages to get out. He’s shivering again, this time from fear. Dean’s arms tighten around him and even Dean isn’t sure if it is to comfort Sam or out of his own terror.

“You’re gonna go?” Dean asks, as if they would be having this conversation if Sam hadn’t already planned on leaving.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

Dean is quiet in the darkness of their room. There is a panel of brightness across the middle of the bed from the light that is still on in the kitchen. The rented house creaks and settles around them.

“When?”

“I was planning on leaving couple of weeks after graduation. I’m gonna need to do a lot of work in order to meet the requirements,” Sam answers easily. From the ease with which Sam says it, Dean knows that Sam has had this planned for a while. He wants to tell Sam that he would have helped him without Sam seducing him. He doesn’t want to hurt Sammy, though.

“Okay. Okay, man. We’ll tell Dad when you’re ready,” Dean tells him, he hopes Sam can’t hear anything but acceptance in his words.

Sam grins, his teeth bright in the darkness. There is a heaviness in Dean’s chest, one that he refuses to acknowledge or think about.

ii.
John, predictably, takes the news badly. Words fly, heated tempers loosen tongues, and nothing Dean does can ease the tension between John and his youngest son. At the end of it all, John tells Sam to get gone and not come back. Dean knows that their dad doesn’t mean it, but Sam’s eyes show that he means to follow this order to the letter.

The Impala is already packed with Sam’s meager possessions. In one duffle is a wad of cash that Dean stashed there without Sam knowing, hopefully it’s enough that Sam can get by for a while without getting a job. Dean also has a bag in the trunk with what he really needs. He feels lightheaded and a little freaked out.

By the time he tells John that he’s taking Sam, he’ll be back soon; Sam is already in the car. He’s hunched over himself as if something vital is hurt. Maybe it is. Dean eases into the driver’s seat and starts the car. They’re fifteen miles down the road before Dean stretches out his arm, his hand lands on Sam’s shoulder.

“I can drive you to California,” Dean offers. They’re in Ohio.

“No. Just drop me at the bus station,” Sam says woodenly. There are tears buried under the careful neutrality.

“I’m offerin’ to come with you. For good.”

“I said just drop me off at the fucking station,” Sam barks, tears finally trailing down his cheeks. Dean understands. He was never supposed to go with Sam; Sam is cutting all his ties. Something sick twists in his gut and Dean jerks his eyes back to the road. He should know better than to ask for things.

He takes the turn off for the bus station.

iii.
It’s been four years, but a day hasn’t gone by that Dean hasn’t thought of Sam. He breaks into the little apartment that Sam lives in; half giddy, half terrified. Sam does a good job of posturing in front of his girl and Dean is ready to drop his good ole boy act. See what sweet Jess makes of that because Dean’s damn sure that Sam hasn’t told her about their past.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip. He hasn’t been home in a few days,” Dean grates out through his teeth. He sees the exact moment that Sam understands what he’s saying. An almost palpable wall crashes down between Sam and his girl, Dean wonders why he isn’t happier that he’s won.

Over the days Dean does what he can to try to lure Sam back into the life. He feels crushed and broken as he drops Sam off and Sam doesn’t even look back. Dean really should have known better. Everything has always been what Sam wants, what Sam needs. Dean has always been secondary.

Sam’s apartment has almost faded from his rear view mirror when he turns around. Dean doesn’t have a reason; he just needs to see Sam one last time. Because, deep down, Dean knows that neither of them will call. There should be something more final between them instead of this tenuous bridge that the weekend built. Dean needs to see that Sam can make it without him, needs to know that he’s never meant anything to Sam.

When he gets there, the fire has just started. Beautiful Jess is pinned to ceiling and Sam is ready to die, he isn’t even trying to escape. Dean saves him anyway, knowing that Sam will hate him for this. Smoke is thick in their lungs and the heat is almost unbearable. They make it out just in time, just like before.

As they wait for the blaze to be put out, Dean realizes that Sam is ready. He’s committing himself to hunting, to avenging Jess and Mom and anyone else that this thing has harmed. Dean feels heat lick his insides and he knows that he’ll give anything, anything, to keep Sammy with him.

iv.
Dean wakes, frantic, realizing that Sam is missing. Something as enormous as his brother can’t just vanish into thin air. Right? Looks like he’s wrong and Dean spends the next week searching until Sam calls him. Everything turns upside-down as events reveal themselves. Sam covered in blood. The knife in the car. The dead hunter.

Dean covers it all up like a pro, though. He does it even as Sam is freaking out because that’s what his job is. He protects his little brother. Even when it’s something wearing Sam’s body, something evil and old and possessive.

Jo will probably never forgive them; she’ll certainly never forgive Dean. He’s known about her crush, thought about it, poked at the idea as if it were a sore tooth. But he’s realized, honestly he’s always known, that there isn’t room for anyone else in his heart. Sam is his whole world and Jo would never be able to accept that.

Sam, demon ridden, has broken into the bar and almost killed Jo. Dean didn’t even pretend for a moment that her life meant anything. If Sam had killed her, that would have been tragic, sure. But it wouldn’t have made Dean pull that trigger. Wouldn’t have been worth the risk to Sam.

She’s been around hunters all her life. Jo should know better than to try to step between a man and his obsession. Her heart tells her to try; maybe if she’s enough then Dean can let Sam go. Maybe he’ll be able to love her.

“You can have something for yourself,” she whispers, her tiny hands wrapped around his bicep.

He gives a small, depreciating laugh. It’s the only answer that he can give, how else could he explain that the only thing that’s ever mattered is Sam? He has to keep giving until there isn’t anything left. And he’ll make others do the same, as long as Sam needs him to.

He promises to call her. They both know it’s a lie

v.
Old Yellow Eyes is a slippery son of bitch, but he needs something and that makes him vulnerable. What Dean can’t understand is how he could make Sam disappear into thin air. He feels that frantic pull from a few months back, when Sam was possessed.

He gets to Cold Oak a fraction too late. He sees Sam and it’s like he has tunnel vision or something because Sam is all he can focus on. He doesn’t even notice the other guy until Sam’s face is grimacing in pain and shock.

Sam is so heavy in his arms, heavy and hot. Dean knows he’s speaking, knows that words are flowing out of him but he isn’t sure what he’s saying. All he can hear is the labored sound of Sam breathing and all he can feel is the hot gush of blood on his hands.

Suddenly the world is silent and Dean thinks that maybe he’s gone deaf. Maybe he’s losing a sense at a time. Between one heartbeat and the next, Dean realizes that Sam is dead, that’s why there is no noise. Sam is dead.

Bobby does what he can, but eventually Dean snaps. All he is aware of is his monumental failure, how nothing can ever be right in the world again. The world could die and all Dean would do is laugh and laugh and laugh. He wants to hit Bobby, he almost does, and that’s what scares Bobby into getting gone. You don’t want to cross a Winchester.

Dean is driving before he knows it, speeding toward his fate. The bitch at the Crossroads could ask for anything and he’d agree. Anything for Sam, everything for Sam. A year is a bonus. An extra day would have been more than Dean hoped for, more than what he would have dared to ask.

When she kisses him, she tastes like Sammy did when he was eighteen.

vi.
Dean is adamant that Sam not try to break his deal with the demon. He’s tired. He’s been saying that since River Grove and Sammy has been not listening for twice as long. Dean just doesn’t have it in him anymore and everything seems oddly flat. Eating and fucking and hunting; an endless cycle until his time is up.

When his year is over, Dean will relinquish his life and soul for his brother. He finally won’t have anything more to give. Although, knowing Sam, he’ll demand more.

pkabyssinian @ 2007-11-28T23:59:00

2007-11-29T05:00:00Z

Tarot

2007-11-23T19:25:39Z

I got three more cards done, I'm not happy with the High Priestess and will be redoing it at some point. I think I'm trying to translate it too literally, but the trees as the black pillar and the white pillar just seemed like such a good idea. Hrm.

Descriptions for the cards come from Wyrdology.

Anyway, without further ado:

The Magician (Magus) is a card of power. Power over the elements, power over others - or the ultimate power, power over oneself.

This is card One - and "1" is also "I".

The Magician, also known as Magus, represents those aspects of the personality traditionally considered "masculine". He is in control. He knows how things work, he can analyze them in detail. He takes action and makes things happen.

This is a forceful, dynamic Tarot card, yet one that operates through the power of Will rather than brute force. If knowledge is power then the Magician represents the application of knowledge. The Magician creates his desired reality.

When this card appears in a Tarot spread it indicates the attainment of goals through the application of knowledge and Will. If badly aspected in a spread, this card can represent abuse of power. It can indicate manipulation of others, trickery and deception.

The Magician can be both sage and conjurer.

The High Priestess is a card of intuition, instinct and hidden knowledge. She encompasses the word "esoteric".

The High Priestess does not seek to dissect. Instead she relies on synthesis, on the bringing together of opposites. She is duality in a singularity.

An emotional singularity which can suck you in and from which you may never escape.

She knows all your secrets, you can hide nothing from her. Yet you will never know the secrets she herself protects.

If well aspected in a Tarot spread, this card can indicate the use of intuition to solve problems; trust to your instincts. If badly aspected, it can mean suppression and ignoring of such instincts - following your head at the expense of your heart.

The High Priestess understands the Mona Lisa's smile.

The Star represents peace, harmony and tranquility. Possibly it is the calm following the storm that destroyed the Tower.

In this card, the storm has passed and the air smells fresh. It is time for renewal, feelings of hope abound. It is time to stretch ourselves, to look forward to new horizons.

Times change, as do we. A new day brings new hope.

When the Star appears in a Tarot spread it represents new possibilities, new hope, new opportunities. If well aspected then those opportunities will be recognized and grasped.

If badly aspected it can indicate a failure to recognize those opportunities, or lack of courage to take advantage of them.

The future starts now.

Nothing interesting here... move along...

2007-11-20T01:38:22Z

Oh, punnky_kitty... you have given me a shiny new toy in the form of this. AND ITS ALL TRUE!

FACT:

If Jensen Ackles wants your opinion, he'll beat it into you.

There's an order to the universe: space, time, Jensen Ackles.... Just kidding, Jensen Ackles is first.

When God said, "Let there be light", Jensen Ackles said, "say please."

The active ingredient in Red Bull is Jensen Ackles's sweat. (Gerhard Berger & Jensen Ackles... I may die happy now.)

Jensen Ackles visits an active volcano every morning to get some of "the best damn espresso on Earth".

Some people wear Superman pajamas. Superman wears Jensen Ackles pajamas. (This is funny on so many levels.)

When Arnold says the line "I'll be back" in the first Terminator movie it is implied that he is going to ask Jensen Ackles for help.

There are now five cup sizes at Starbucks: Short, Tall, Grande, Venti, and Jared Padalecki.

In an emergency, Jared Padalecki can be used as a flotation device.

_ __ ___ ____ _____ ______ _____ ____ ___ __ _

On hold waiting for my bank to talk to me. Rawr rawr rawrrrrrr. i am so bored. Bored bored bored. la la la la la.

I am going out tomorrow to buy cards and goodies. hee hee hee

That was a hint for y'all to give me address HERE (or youse can email me at pkabyssinian@gmail.com). I am sending out Yule cards & maybe a little something else. Hmmm.... I will send stuff anywhere, not just to the US... All comments THERE are screened. =)

I need to call my Mommy and see WTF is up w/ the jewelry. Mainly what is up with the check I wrote as it hasn't been cashed yet. Plz take my money and give me shiny things?

Tomorrow my brother turns 21. I have no idea what to do for him. He wants me to go home and take him out drinking. I don't know if I really want to get shit faced with my brother.

I seriously want to be not sick now.

Jayne w/ a cigar is kinda hot. Y'know I really ought to learn what his name in the show really is. Hmm.

Damn, I'm ramble-y and boring tonight.

Missa, you're going to have to let me know when is a good time for me to call you, 'kay?

Fandom makes my boner sad.

2007-11-16T16:51:18Z

Uh, b'juh?

Being a SPN fan who doesn't find Katie's recent run in with the law 'cute and adorable like Jared Padalecki' makes me a "flaming misogynistic hypocrite"???

Also this somehow makes it wrong that Jared and Jensen gave an interview at some unknown point where they talk about walking around naked while at home and masturbating.

Fandom, your faux drama is making me want to strangle the SHIT out of everyone again.

So... why is it we can love a good portion of the women on the show but when we DON'T like one (or more) of the girls because she's (a) a crappy character and/or (b) can't act for shit we're all terrible people? Out of all of the women who have been on SPN I haven't liked 3. Yet that makes me a bad person? Where is the rule again that I can't have an opinion and must ♥s and sparklies each and every character on the show? Plz to be pointing it out to me.

Since when is lying to he police OK? She wasn't driving, but the driver was drunk (and possibly underage as well? PK no rememberee), they both reeked of booze and she admitted to the cop that she was lying about her identity. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand she shouldn't be chastised or punished because why? The fact that I don't think this whole thing is as cute as rainbows and kittens makes me a hater of women how?

I guess the only sane thing to do is to IGNORE the SHIT out of the world again. Dammit.

Am I also a misogynist because I like hot men having sex with each other? *ponders*

One final question... how is it that people who WRITE Wincest can go out and BITCH about how terrible Wincest is? Am I just not getting it or is fandom trying to shove its head up its own ass?

(Waits patiently to see who de-friends her for this.)

OK, I lied. I do have one more question. Why does my spell checker think that 'faux' isn't a word? But 'f aux' is?

FUCK, PEOPLE! I'M SICK! GIVE ME PORN NOT WANK!!!!

more tarot

2007-11-14T00:32:36Z

Thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging. My mother is also rather excited about the cards so I'm going to finish up the Major Arcana and then see if I have inspiration for the Minor Arcana.

Without further ado... here are three more cards:

Avoiding doing work

2007-11-09T18:29:55Z

So, I couldn't sleep last night and was trying to think of things to do that would keep me busy. Brain decided that I needed to think about a SPN tarot deck. I said, predictably, "no". Mainly because I have very little artistic talent and, well, it would be hard. But brain decided that I really should do it and I can't stop thinking about it.

So I made two cards. *facepalm*

They're cut for size. Made in photoshop with screencaps from supernatural.tv and there is no real tarot symbology in them.

So... should I make more? Or cut my losses?

Happy Dean's Day!

2007-11-09T03:02:09Z

So... Lana likes a little rough sex? Seems Clarkie does too. No wonder he and Lex get along so well.

Dude. That was kinda cool. Lana is a perv. *dies*

Hard to get sexy Lexie out of your system, eh Clark?

Could they just kill Lois and be done with it?

Yay! Clarkie has come to fight for his man!

Boys. Just fuck and make me happy. C'mon. You know you want to!

WTF? Smallville is now the X-Files? Not impressed.

I can't wait for Beowulf. I loved that story as a kid, the version I had was prose so it probably wasn't the best translation. However, I was caught by the idea of Beowulf having liquid sunlight (honey) in his blood from all the bees that had stung him when he was young. Mind you, I think I was five when I read this.

Bela. DO NOT WANT.

Sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight. My mom says this all the time, I don't know why.

EEeeeeEEEEeeeeEEEE *flappy hands* It's TIME!

Uh, Dean? i think that you might have raised a LOT of hell. Heh.

Nice ass shot, Sam.

Gak. Again? C'mon. But, dude? Niiiice shot. *smirk*

"And you shot her?" "She was a smart ass." *dies* Oh, Sam, don't make me love you.

Old woman wants her some Sammy action. Dude. Sam. Go for it. *sporfle*

There are times when I wonder how people believe the lies these boys tell.

Cougar hound. Oh, DEEEN! "Bite me." "Not if she bites you first." That totally means that Dean would bite Sam. He just doesn't want a girl-tainted Sammy.

Dude, where's my car? Dean is having a heart attack. I love how stressy he is over this. *dies*

Shoots Sam AND fucks with the Impala? Just kill her. Don't even fucking think about it, just do it. And Dean is OK with her talking to Sam like that? why is he making the 'approving' face? WTF? Isn't Dean a little OOC for the shit she's pulled? Isn't she?

At least he asked to shoot her. Do it, Dean. I told you to. Just shoot the bitch. Or let Sam do it, he's proved that he doesn't have a problem with it. Srsly.

Bela is lower than a roach. Don't insult roaches like that.

Punch her. Don't even worry about it. Just do it.

Sam? Finger prints? C'mon guys, lets get our act together 'kay?

So... Bela's going to see the ship, right? THEN LET HER EFFING DIE. Please. Boys. Don't make me beg. I can't take another effing episode with her.

Don't let her in. DEAN, goddamn it! What do I effing tell you? Why don't you listen? Or if you are going to let her THEN SHOOT HER!

No no no nononononooooooonononononononononono.

Dean in a tux. Hot.

I like the role reversal here. Normally it's the girl coming down the stairs and the boy being awed by her 'gorgeousness'. Instead, we get Dean in all his hotness. Does that make him the girl in his relationship with Sam? Is that why he gives Sam such shit all the time?

Dean. I share with you wise bits of wisdom. DON'T PUT YOUR PEE PEE INTO ANYTHING IT WON'T COME BACK OUT OF.

Sam would be a much more fun date for Dean. Let him shove stuff into his mouth. There is just something about Dean pigging out that I really enjoy. Oh, Gods. There is something seriously wrong with me.

OH, Show. Just as I want to hate you.

The husband just admitted that the old woman was going to make Sam gay for Dean. I think I just won!

There is sooooo gonna be hot tux sex with the boys all over the internet. I can't wait.

And she isn't dead yet, WHY????

And there is no hitting yet because why? Show, I'm embarrassed and sad that you make me a bad feminist. I don't want to condone violence against women. But Sam is so hot when he does it. And Bela deserves it. Ye, Gods. I'm trying to justify it now. *smacks self*

Very Oscar Wilde? Does she know what he does with Sam? Or did I miss the reason for that remark?

Oh, Sammy. Your discomfort is my amusement. My mother would be doing this if she had half a chance.

You stink like sex. Oh Dean. You would know.

Could you two just make out in the car? For me? Please? I can't take it with you two dressed up and all that. I need to see me some boy sexxin'.

Sam? Are you being a little vindictive? Hmmm? That's so cute.

Dean. ILU so hard right now. I need that screencap of you pretending to shoot her.

DEAN! DEAN DEAN DEAN! I CAN'T LOVE YOU ANY MORE OR I WILL EXPLODE!

It is also kinda hot when you boys do ritual. It makes me all squirmy. But that could be the witch in me comin' out. Heh.

Fuck. Don't save her. Just don't. Its a bad idea that will come back to haunt you. And I don't mean in a special SPN kind of way. She's just going to come along and mess with things again and make your lives miserable. Please, please listen to me. Please. Dean, don't make me beg. (Although, just to set things straight... I'm more than willing to beg for other things. FYI.)

OK. Fuck. I hate it when I have to agree with Bela. But Dean? You are damaged. In the best possible way.

After this discussion in the car? I can't wait for the fic. Broken!Dean, Angry!Sam, both of them doing their best to NOT understand where each other is at. Dean isn't made in such a way to care about himself. Sam can't fathom why Dean isn't able to see beyond making sure Sam is OK. Oh, boys. Boys! You're tearing each other apart! This could be so beautiful. *happy sigh*

I can't wait for next week. That's the one with the promo pics that make me uncomfortably squirmy. Dean, big knife, y'know what I'm talkin' about. Right? It's not just me, right? Right??

Bad PK, no cookie.

2007-11-08T18:37:23Z

So, I've managed NOT to add to my NaNo word count AT ALL. Instead? I've PORNED the boys again. WTF is wrong with me?

Part of NaNo's problem is I'm terrified that there is something wrong with the cats. Yes, I'm still stressing over this. Every five minutes (if my Nano fic is up) I have to go and find the cats. Since there are only two left, it's easy. But nine times out of ten they little bastards are asleep and I have to poke them to make sure that they're alive. Retarded, I know. Especially since it's been two years and six days. Oh, Heika.

Anywho, I did manage to finally write the follow up to one my old stories. Maybe instead of worrying about NaNo I'll just write and see how many words I can get in in a month. I won't care if it's not in one continual story, just write as much as I can on different projects. ~~Porn.~~ You know.

I AM GOING HOME THIS WEEKEND!! I get to have fun with my crayzee mommy! Although, I'm a bit nervous about that. The other day when I was talking to her she asked me if I was watching Moonlight. I said no. Then she asked me if I was watching Chuck and I said that I was. We chatted about that and I squeed that Jayne was on Chuck. Mama asks who Jayne is. I tell her, y'know - Adam Baldwin, he played Jayne on Firefly. Mama squees like a mad woman. I'm slightly confused. Mama explains that Jayne was Marcus on Angel. And that Marcus and Angel were so in love. Not quite as in love as Spike and Angel, but it was still hot. *facepalm* My mother was slashing Angel. MY MOTHER. Mikee says what do I expect, I probably inherited the gene from her...

And now for my good deed of the day:

Go forth and download this little file and help to save a life. I've posted about it before, but figured that a reminder wouldn't hurt, Erin needs 5 million hit to get the money she needs to help pay for brain surgeries. Notice the plural there. A click a day to help save a life isn't much to ask for. If you want updates and more infomration you can always join projectdownload or go to http://projecterin.com/.

made by badlucknovelist

NaNo, Day 2

2007-11-03T03:51:25Z

At least I managed to catch up today. I need to have some actual motivation for this story. I think I have some of the plot ironed out (in my head at least) so I know kind of where I want to go with this now. Yay me!

Once again, kyoko_sama is evil incarnate and using her magical psychic powers to put ideas in my head! Missa! There will be no Christmas porn for you until December! Stop bombarding my head with it!

Chapter One

The world had ended five days after Sinae’s mother turned thirteen. Newly initiated into the Order of the Sleepers, she was caught unprepared when everything ground to a halt. Rahaeli had said that the world had cracked and beyond that Sinae didn’t care to learn more. All it meant to a young girl was that the rich owned everything while they owned nothing. Seemingly overnight the world Rahaeli had known was transformed into a hollow parody of itself.

So many had died; the scientists and warriors, the physicians and leaders. The state religion was decreed to be false so what little hope Deity could offer was snatched away. Not that it mattered to a young Rahaeli, the religion she had been a part of had been seen as nothing but a group of occultists. After the world ended her group was forgotten and ignored, not that many of the priests had been spared the destruction of the main temple.

From the crack in the world came the infernae and seraphae, beings akin to angels and demons from the old stories but these were far more terrible and beautiful. Imagine the surprise when they could breed with the creatures already here. Humans and animals both found new genes integrated, fresh blood that wasn’t always benign or beneficial.

Rahaeli had been a pretty girl who blossomed into a beautiful woman. Sinae had a picture of her mother, taken before what came to be known as the Sundering. In the photo, Rahaeli was smiling gently; the corners of her generous mouth were obviously trying to hide a wider grin. Her blue eyes were full of mischief as her long blonde hair fell in a cascading waves around her narrow face. Rahaeli had her thin, bird-like hands held in front of her as if she were entreating the photographer to stop, but there was a life and vivacity to her that was still captured by the picture.

Sinae kept the picture to remind her of what her mother could have been like. Instead, she had known only a dour woman, made old before her time. The Rahaeli that Sinae knew had lank hair of an indeterminate shade of dirty, eyes that were clouded by insanity and cataracts, a face that was scarred and kept mostly hidden behind a veil. Sinae’s mother had been close to forty years old when she gave birth to her only daughter, time and life had ground Rahaeli down into a shadow of her former self. The Sundering had left her with questionable sanity and most thoughts about Rahaeli skittered out of Sinae’s head before they were fully formed.

Part of her insanity was that Rahaeli had sworn that she was the last of the priesthood, had initiated Sinae when she was only three years old so that the Order would continue. Into the chubby baby’s hand Rahaeli had burned the mark of the order into the soft skin of Sinae’s palm. As a child, Sinae had learned simple chants and rhymes meant to placate the Goddess of Rahaeli’s belief. As she grew up Sinae doubted that the Goddess existed as anything but a figment in her mother’s imagination.

Disgust blossomed in Sinae. She clenched her left hand, the marked one, in a tight fist. Generally she kept the sigil hidden by wearing a fingerless glove of soft cotton, but the glove had torn on an old metal fence the several nights before. The thin fabric had been destroyed and Sinae missed it. After a moment she uncurled her hand and looked at the brand. It looked like a crescent moon turned on its side. Underneath the moon were three lines and between the horns of the crescent was the blurry shape of a star. Sinae’s stomach growled softly, breaking her out of her contemplations.

Food had been scarce recently. Farmers were prized and well guarded by the Kin Lords. After the world had ended the strong had risen and created their own fiefdoms, small areas of land that had fresh water and the ability to have a trade – be it food or items. They were called Kins in honor of the fact that the lords there were usually related to the angelae or infernae, either through blood or marriage. In the early years, Rahaeli and Sinae had moved covertly between Kins, trying to find one where an old Priestess could find work as a sibyl. Rahaeli was always thrown out for her ravings about the Sleeper; Sinae learned embarrassment at an early age.

Since Rahaeli had died a few months ago Sinae had turned to trying to thieve for sustenance, a plan that was going poorly. She wasn’t skilled enough to pick locks so she was forced to try to lift bread or fruit from the market stalls. Most merchants were too street wise not to see her coming. Her face was looking wan and pinched from constant hunger, but her grey eyes were still sharp. Unlike her mother, Sinae had strawberry blonde hair that seemed to stay at a delicate shade of pink, the tips, however, were dyed a bold, bright red. It was short and straight, the bright tips brushing against her jaw. She was short for her age, just shy of twenty, and thin from malnutrition. With her form she was often mistaken for a boy, something that used to annoy her, but now she saw the safety that such an assumption offered.

With a huff she threw her back against the old brick wall behind her. It would be evening soon; the vendors would be packing up soon. Hopefully she could reach the rubbish pile before all the good food was scavenged. The city, beholden to the Raven Kin Lord, had plenty of street urchins. The new holy temples that had sprung up at the dethroning of the state’s Dying God were supposed to help tend to the needy. What a joke, all temples ever cared about was coin or grain to line their coffers.
.
The city, if it could still be called that, was made up of dusty streets and short, squat buildings. Mostly stone or brick, but a few that were still made of metal and glass. There were no tall spires; the highest building was two or three stories high. What paving had been on the dirty streets had been pulled up long ago and used to build smaller homes, most dwellings had been made unsafe by the Sundering and the Kin Lords wouldn’t give away precious resources to help the needy.

Deciding that she had waited long enough, Sinae slunk through the alleyways to get to the outskirts of the market. There, near the ditches dug for latrines, was where all the food that was deemed unworthy to be sold was tossed. Supposedly it was to be mixed with other ingredients to become compost for the fields. In reality, what could be taken and eaten was and often the human scavengers were so hungry that they ate what was too old or moldy.

There were already a few familiar faces waiting in the shadows. Sinae caught a glimpse of old Marr and hiding in the alleyway diagonal from her was Dira. Where Dira went, Markus was never far behind. They were vicious and were known for knifing those who got in their way. Up on an awning was Tibrus, he was young and wily but his leg had been crushed under a cart wheel. There would be slim pickings and Sinae wished for the thousandth time that she didn’t have to rely on garbage to keep her alive.

Everyone waited until Dira and Markus took what they wanted. Then it was just a matter of grabbing what you could and sorting it out later. Sinae was lucky; she had managed to find a small flat in which to sleep at night. The building had been condemned pre-Sundering but never demolished. Few braved its interior and she was able to prop the door to her room closed with a plank at night. There was even a small, high window that would let in light that still had its glass intact.

Quickly, she filled her shirt with what she could carry, trusting the wide leather belt around her waist to keep the food from falling out. Sinae ran as fast as she could, darting into narrow alleys and around blind corners as she navigated to her tiny room. It barely held her, an old mattress, and a crate; but it was hers and, more importantly, she felt safe there.

Inside she wedged the door shut and dumped her banquet onto the latticed crate. The wood was old but it was still sturdy and insects hadn’t had a chance to make it a nest. Her meal was mainly bruised fruit, some of it with rotten spots and one lucky prize of jerky. The dried meat looked like it had simply fallen into the dirt of the market place, if Sinae could get some water it would wash off easily enough. If not, then a little dirt never hurt anyone. She still had the heel of an old loaf of bread; she could finish that off tonight before it got moldy. A grin split her face, showing that she really was pretty; dirt and stress just made her seem older and more worn than her years.

After eating just a portion of what she had managed to scavenge, none of it the meat, Sinae curled on the thin mattress that she used as a bed. Her tunic was stained but not intolerably so, and the woven linen pants were the only one she owned. Sinae had taken off the belt and the thin-soled shoes in order to be more comfortable. She stretched out and did her best to relax and let sleep come. She was drifting in the borderlands between dreaming and waking when a harsh crash startled her into full alertness. Sinae could feel her heart pounding and she could barely hear anything over that and her own ragged breathing.

The noise wasn’t repeated and Sinae eased toward the door and gently pulled the plank that kept the door closed. She slithered into the darkened hallway and toward the stairwell to the first floor being as quiet as she possibly could. It was a risk living up on the second floor, but it usually meant that looters didn’t find her. She slid down the stairs, silently cursing the fact that she had slipped her shoes off before trying to sleep.

There was a wash of pale light from the street that helped to illuminate the front half of the building. The floor plan was fairly open with a few pillars scattered throughout. Sinae supposed it had been a store or warehouse before the Sundering. The second floor was all small rooms that she assumed had been offices. Now they were her home. She couldn’t see anything, but there was enough shadows and darkened corners that someone could be hiding. She was still holding the post that propped the door shut; she held it like a club and did her best to calm her breathing as she willed her hands not to shake.

There – something was low to the floor and, gods, but it moved quickly. Sinae sucked her breath in and held it, eyes straining to get another look of whatever it was. She had thought she had seen something reflective but she couldn’t fathom what it could be. She dared to leave the relative safety of the stairwell and edged out into the room. With quick, rushing steps she bolted toward the nearest concrete pillar and leaned against it.

Now she could hear a slight tapping noise, like an aristo’s heels against stone but not quite as loud. What in all the hells was it? She lifted the plank of wood, ready to beat whatever she might find. It had to be an animal. Didn’t it?

There was a soft whine just a moment before a narrow head butted against her stomach. With an abrupt cry, Sinae dropped the plank and pressed herself tighter against the pillar. The owner of the head gave a low woof before bumping her again.

“You’re a dog?” she asked softly, fear still lacing her tone. The dog nuzzled her in response and she dared to reach down and pat its head.

At the first touch she jerked away, the animal’s head wasn’t covered with soft fur as she had expected but with sleek scales. Her heart was hammering again; this had to been one of the Kin Lords hounds. Oh hells, what was it doing here?

The hound, however, seemed unaware of the fright it was giving Sinae and prodded her for more attention. Sinae patted its head again and prayed that this one didn’t have venom sacs. It had to be a shrihound, one of the hunting dogs used by the Kin Lord. They looked like a snake had been crossed with a sight-hound, sleek and deadly. Most of them had needle sharp fangs that were attached to potent poison sacs like a venomous reptile. In place of fur they had smooth scales that ran the length of their body, usually they were grey or black but there were two pale white hounds in the Lord’s retinue.

Sinae edged away from the dog, she was hoping she could shoo the hound out onto the street and let it find its own way home. No such luck, it seemed. The beast had taken a liking to her and stayed firmly glued to her side. The fact that its head reached her midsection meant that she wouldn’t be able to budge it if it didn’t want to go. The girl gave a heavy sigh as she realized that she’d have to take it upstairs with her.

The dog thumped its whip-like tail against her legs as she gave a soft whistle for it to follow her. Sinae winced slightly from the sting but it didn’t really hurt. What did was the notion that she would have to give up the jerky she had stolen; hunting dogs certainly didn’t eat fruit. That though stopped Sinae in her tracks, fear sluicing down her spine. What was the hound hunting? The only time the Lord released his precious shrihounds was when he wanted something tracked and killed. Their game ran the gamut from rabbit to human.

“What are you looking for?” she whispered to the dog. The only response she received was the animal wriggling in pleasure as she took notice of it. Horror flushed through her system as she tried to think of what she might have done to warranted the attention of one of the Lord’s hounds. Fear and panic made her mind blank, feeding into each other until Sinae though she would scream.

The dog chose to butt at her stomach again in a desperate bid for attention. Without thinking, she began to rub the hound behind its soft ears, earning her legs more thumps from the animal’s tail. As panic began to settle, Sinae realized that the dog couldn’t be hunting her. If it was, she would already be dead. Letting out a shaky breath of relief Sinae began to trek back up the stairs. Certain of its welcome, the hound trailed next to her.

She debated propping the door shut since the dog was with her, but Sinae was smart enough to realize that just because the animal wanted to stay with her was no guarantee it would protect her. With more force than was strictly necessary Sinae forced the block of wood into place between the door and the hard cement floor. When she turned around the dog was already curled up on the mattress, watching her with dark eyes.

“You can stay tonight, but tomorrow you have to go find your master,” Sinae whispered and prayed that dog would be bored of her company by then. As if in answer the hound gave a short bark.

As if she had forgotten her earlier fear, Sinae pushed the dog over so that there was room for her on the thin mattress. Feeling more secure than she had in weeks Sinae curled around the warm form of the dog and felt herself drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow she would go see Marr and see if the old man had any advice. The elderly gentleman was always willing to share his dubious wisdom and, most importantly, knew how to keep his mouth shut.

Without realizing it, Sinae slipped into a soft and dreamless sleep.

NaNoWriMo, Day One

2007-11-02T05:46:24Z

So. Barely got anything done on this. *sigh* Part of the problem was that I had to go out and buy Office 2007 as my free trial ran out. Ooops. The other part was that today (well, yesterday) was that it was Dean's Day. Woot! I loves me some Supernatural. Which means that Phaedra has produced less than 1,000 words today.

All of my NaNo writing will be under a cut. That way you don't have to read it. =) I will post my progress daily (when possible) as well as what work I got done. I like to do it that way so I feel like I'm being productive and I can see my progress. All work is unedited and as is.

Tenatively, this is going to be titled: Daughter of the Sleeping Eye

Song of the Goddess

In the beginning, the Goddess dreamed.
The Universe was made of infinite space,
Her dreams seethed and connected all reality
And the Goddess moved within and with,
A part and apart from Her dreaming.
Yet in Her wholeness, the Goddess was empty.

Although all infinity was united in Her embrace,
There was no past, no future, just unending now.
The laws of form and formless were identical,
There was no division of Goddess and not-Goddess,
There was only one world, one universe, one Goddess.
She was as deep and unending as the Universe.

In the dream, the Goddess waited for an eternity.
The Goddess desired more than the dream,
She longed for the not-dream,
For that which would be not-Goddess.
She ached with this desire, it consumed Her dream,
What could She do?

In the fullness of Her dreaming, the Goddess sang.
The song shattered the dream,
It divided the Universe,
Causing it to be something other than the dream,
And for the first time in all eternity - the Goddess woke.
In this time of waking, the Goddess knew joy and named it good.

From Her wakefulness the dream split, shattered,
Sundered.
Each splinter formed a new universe, a new world, a new not-dream.
And the Goddess was pleased to see her creations,
With beneficent gaze She admired each new world,
And to each the Goddess sang her siren song.

The universes danced and boiled,
Time and space existed,
Energy and matter existed,
Life and death existed.
Good and evil were created as balances,
To keep the dream and not-dream separate.

The Goddess saw all of this and sang of it
Each new note created the worlds anew
Nothing could grow or live and the Goddess pondered.
For a moment, a lifetime, she was silent.
In this time without song, the first priests evolved.
Brief lives dedicated to the Goddess.

These priests knew something was missing from the universe,
They missed the music that shaped and defined them,
So they created the ritual of song.
The priests raised their voices in harmony,
Sang of the glory of the Goddess,
And the Goddess listened and was pleased.

The Goddess joined Her voice with theirs,
She mimicked the ritual songs
Her song, in harmony with the priests,
Determined our lives, our dream, our possibilities.
Then the song of the priests lulled the Goddess,
The last notes of her chorus varied and fluctuated.

These distortions created for the Goddess Her earthly form,
Gracing us with her presence here on earth.
The Goddess understood, even if her worshippers did not,
What this might mean for Her creation.
So the Goddess sang one last refrain,
A sweet and gentle lullaby to woo Herself into sleep.

For the only way that the Goddess could exist,
Here in our mortal plane was to return to the Dreaming,
Where She would dream of the world and watch over us.
The Goddess sang that if the priests were to wake her,
Or allow her to leave her slumber,
Was to sunder the not-dream and shatter the world.

We sing the song of the Goddess's dream,
Sleep, Goddess of the universe, of the world.
Sleep in Your timeless place,
Lay easy in your rest so that the world might thrive,
We can only live while She sleeps,
We can only grow while She dreams our fate.

Hear our voices as we strive to reach the Dreaming,
The realm of one universe, one world, one Goddess.
The place where the Goddess sleeps,
Undisturbed by longing in the first Dream,
For while we long to be reunited with the Goddess,
Our not-dream cannot hold the dream.

This is the song of the Goddess Danae,
May we never forget that Her sacrifice
Allows us to continue,
Allows us to multiply.
We are the Children of the Sleeping Eye,
Sleep and dream, Goddess, dream and sleep.

Please, Dean, you can put me to bed...

2007-11-02T03:06:12Z

OMG. I think I just squeed my head off. Literally.

Sammy, I think you might have converted me. Don't tell Dean.

Shhh. I also love Lionel Luthor and his subtle wink to the Great Gay Love between Lex and Clark. Lionel Luthor FTW! \0/

They keep sayin' the '100% pure Sam' line. All I can think of, seriously, is Sam saying something to effect before slamming home in Dean. "Take this, baby! It's 100% pure SAMMY!" Or, you know, something about 'TAKE IT FROM THE BOY KING!"

I totally wanna hear 'little piggy, little piggy let me come in...' Is that wrong of me?

I love me a worked up and yelling Dean. My fucked up inner wiring find male anger both amusing and hot. Oh, me.

Detectives Plant and Paige? Dean, have I told you how much I love you recently?

Oh, Sam. Oh, Dean. Dead brothers, can you imagine how awful? Your man pain is so yummy. I could eat it with a spoon.

She's a harmless old lady. Not like she'll EAT you or anything. Heh.

I love how happy that witch is while she's committing murder. If I were going to stab someone to death? I wanna do it like that.

Not kissin' frogs. Oh, Dean. But it might be your prince!

'Dude, could you be more gay?' Oh Show. You've just admitted that Sammy is gay. I'm willing to work with baby steps. Next they'll do a throw away remark about how sore Sam is from Dean. Or something.

Boys throwing throwing shit and catching it? Is so hot. WTF is wrong with me. I'm literally squirming in my seat here. B'juh! Oh Gods. Dean is so hot.

So. She's Snow White. Who's the prince?

SAMMY is the prince? B'juh? But, but, but last week he was the Princess.

Dean, you can stop my big bad wolf any time... er, that didn't sound quite as sexy as I hoped. *facepalm*

Sam? Honesty with the doctor? No offense, hun, but you're acting kind of frantic and I don't think it's gonna work.

Hrm. The doc is buying it awfully quick. I don't know if I'd buy it that soon. Still, the Winchester men seem to have mysterious powers of persuasion.

Ooooh. Oooh. Oooh. I love me some action!Dean!

Um... the story is over? But there's 15 mins left in Show. Hey! Does this mean that we'll get Dean topless? Yes, PLEASE!

OK, the tension in that hallway scene? I can't take it. 'Should I just let you go?' and the the whole not looking at Sam? Oh, Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean. You are going to kill me ded this season. Sam, don't you just let him go. You fight for him tooth and nail, you hear me? *glares*

Sam? Get your ass back into bed. Plz not to be listening to my last comment. I not want you to go and do something stupid.

Oh. Crossroads. I thought this was supposed to happen next episode. Hrm.

OK, I'm going to be serious for a second. If you like Sandy? You might want to stop reading.

WAH!!!! SANDY CREEPS ME OUT! I CAN'T LOOK AT HER!!!

Is it sad that weeks ago I asked for him to shoot her in the head? Like when I first saw the spoiler? Does that make me a bad person?

Yeah, Ruby is a pain in my ass too.

Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Aim higher, hun. What? My opinions haven't changed.

OK. Cunt. Seriously, shut the fuck up. Don't talk about Dean like that, like he's less than nothing. I would say go to hell, but really, we both that won't mean much.

Her boss. Yeah. I've got Ideas on that. Hmmmm.

Don't put the gun down, Sam. C'mon. Mama needs.

OMFG! SAMMY! I THINK I LOVE YOU! ICAN'TBELIEVEYOUJUSTSHOTHERBETWEENTHEEYES!!!!!!!! YOU ARE FUCKING AWESOME! *jumps and does flappy hands* I. I. I'm so asquee. Sammy. Sammy. Sammy, m'boy. Dean will so not approve, but... *dip kisses*.

And now I've missed the preview from squee.

Must call Missa and SQUEE!!!

Blessed Samhain

2007-10-31T15:31:43Z

Porn is good for the soul, right?

2007-10-29T15:34:33Z

Title: As Above, So Below
Author: pkabyssinian
Rating: NC-17
Beta’d by: gestaltrose, who did an amazing job and any remaining mistakes are all my own.
Warnings: Wincest. Wax and some bodily fluids used in ritual. Uh, I think that’s it.
Disclaimer: Is this really necessary? Do any of you think that I might own these boys? Because I don’t own them, I just wish I did. I do like to make them play together. In other words – please don’t sue.

Notes: This is for Missa who used her freaky mind powers to put the idea of Sam & Dean sexin’ on an elephant in muh head. I couldn’t figure out how to have them on a real elephant so this is what you get. I also play with the geography of NJ to better suit my need. Ha.

Sam was secretive. Dean was used to it and for once in his life, he was actually grateful for it. Because, you see, the thing about demons is that the bastards are fairly literal. It didn’t take long for Sam to figure this out and once he did the youngest Winchester made sure to explain it to Dean. Often. Usually in excruciating detail as if Dean was a five year old. So maybe it didn’t help that the last time Sammy chose to discuss it they were at a diner and Dean felt the appropriate response was to show Sam the half-chewed burger and fries in his mouth. But, still.

What it came down to was that as long as Dean didn’t know what Sam was doing then everything was a-okay. He could suspect, have a strong hunch, or even a bone deep certainty that Sam was working on breaking his contract with the Crossroad’s Demon, but until Sam actually told him that… it was all supposition. Supposition was allowed, hell it was how demon’s got around most things in the first place. For once, the mighty Winchester way of not talking about things was working in their favor.

Which is how Dean came to be naked in an elephant in New Jersey. Not a real elephant, but a roadside attraction affectionately named ‘Lucy’. Lucky for them it was November, so the giant elephant was closed for business on Mondays and Tuesdays. The boys could be there and gone before anyone was wiser.

In reality, the ritual had taken place over several days, each night at exactly 11:27 pm. That was the time that Dean made his deal, so that was the time that each phase of the ritual must begin. Sam was quiet and secretive, only allowing Dean to know bits and pieces of the whole. Each night Dean was securely blindfolded as Sam performed each part of the ritual. All Dean knew was that each night he was stripped naked and anointed with a different fluid; arcane patterns were painted on his bare skin by his brother’s hand.

The only other thing that he knew was that he had to abstain from sex and red meat during the ritual. Being denied one was torture enough, but being deprived of both? Dean felt that he must have the patience of a saint. Irony intended, of course.

Tonight was different though, the ritual this evening had to be performed above the land, below the sky, and within sight of sea. Suspended in the hollow belly of the wooden elephant fulfilled the first requirement and the fact that the beast’s eyes were windows to the ocean fit the second quite nicely. Sam had almost despaired at the esoteric instructions until he literally stumbled over Lucy, the Margate Elephant. There had been a display rack with flyers for the pachyderm in a New York gift shop that Sam, with his gigantor feet, had tripped over.

There was a hush that was almost unnatural, even the sound of the sea was blocked by the thick wood of the elephant’s hide. Sam had a salt circle encasing one of chalk that had alchemical symbols drawn in crushed herbs around the border. Their only light were three black pillar candles that threw jagged shadows around the inside of the roadside attraction, lending it an almost sinister air. Sam made an impatient motion for Dean to begin stripping and Dean tried to hide a wince. It was November in New Jersey; he knew it was going to be damn cold.

Without any of his normal complaining Dean began to pull off his clothes. He left them in a surprisingly tidy pile just outside the salt ring and stepped carefully into the circle. Dean did throw a reproachful glance at Sam, making sure his brother knew that he was chilly and uncomfortable.

Sam, with his normal aplomb, ignored Dean and placed a thin red taper near the closest black candle. Dean waited while Sam fished the thick cloth from his back pocket to tie around Dean’s eyes. Dean, being true to the spirit of the endeavor, always closed his eyes and refused to open them until Sam removed the blindfold. Once Sam was certain that the blindfold was secure, he directed Dean with light touches until Dean was lying in the center of the circle.

Whatever incantation Sam had to say was muttered under the younger Winchester’s breath, Dean could neither make out the language nor the words being used. Even if he could, he would have done his best to ignore the sounds to help keep up his plausible deniability. Once Sam’s low murmuring had ceased Dean heard Sam begin to remove his clothes. Dean swallowed audibly, anticipation helping to warm him in the chill night air.
The next sounds from Sam were anything but what Dean expected, the slight rasp of skin on skin that turned into the unmistakable sounds of Sam masturbating. From the few clues he had been given, Dean had guessed that tonight’s ritual would culminate in sex magic. This, however, wasn’t quite what Dean had hoped for. He longed to ask what Sam was doing but part of his role was to silently accept whatever happened.

After a respectable amount of time Sam quietly moaned his release and after a moment Dean felt the tip of a paint brush swiping against his skin. The fluid Sam was using was viscous and warm, Dean’s breathing hitched as he realized that Sam was marking him with his semen. From his throat down to the soles of Dean’s feet were covered in small brush strokes mapping out abstruse sigils.

Sam leaned back once he was finished and Dean knew that Sam was lighting the red candle. He tried to brace himself for what would come next; Dean knew he would have to remain motionless so as not to disturb the markings Sam was going to make.

As the hot wax dripped onto his pale skin Dean inhaled against the sharp, quick pain. He tried to keep his breathing as even as possible to make the intricate work easier for Sam. As the candle dripped wax in thin patterns Dean felt himself responding the stimulation. It was difficult to keep silent when he heard the soft chuffing of Sam’s muffled laughter. He bit his tongue, though; it wasn’t as if Sam hadn’t seen him with an erection before.
By the time Sam reached Dean’s feet, Dean was rock hard and straining to remain still. He felt overly warm now from the stimulation and prayed that once this was over he would be able to slake his lust. Sam, devil that he was, leaned over Dean and whispered in his ear: “Soon.”

Once the wax had dried, Sam positioned himself over Dean and leaned down to begin licking the sigils onto Dean’s skin over the hardened wax. The light pressure of Sam’s tongue without really being able to feel it was torture and Dean thrashed his head for a moment. Sam paused, waiting until Dean was able to control himself again. Before too long, Sam had reached the markings on Dean’s stomach and Dean’s cock began to twitch with anticipation.

“Not yet,” Sam whispered, his breath ghosting against Dean’s hip. Dean whimpered lowly, the sound barely escaping his clamped lips.

As Sam’s tongue traced the strange symbols on Dean’s thigh, Dean became aware that Sam’s own erection was back. That knowledge alone almost sent Dean over the edge, but Sam’s blunt fingers dug into his brother’s thigh and the pain helped to ease Dean away from his orgasm. He could feel Sam shaking with repressed laughter and badly wanted to remind his brother that he hadn’t had sex in over a week. Sam already knew that though and it wasn’t worth ruining the ritual to remind him.

Just as Dean was certain that he couldn’t handle this new form of sexual sadism that Sam had created, Sam was done. Dean gave a soft sigh of relief, knowing that they had just one more hurdle and the ritual would be complete. He wished, briefly, that he knew what was coming next but instinctually shied away from that line of thought. The less he knew, the better.

In an almost Pavlovian response, Dean felt his cock jump at the sound of the lid being flipped open on a bottle of lube. He almost gave a cry of thanks, but managed to strangle the sound before it was vocalized. Sam was leaning over him again and Dean allowed his legs to fall open to give Sam access. As Sam’s well greased fingers entered him, Sam mouthed the word ‘together’ against Dean’s neck. Dean nodded to show that he understood.

Dean wanted to tell his brother not to bother with the foreplay which was almost overwhelming, he wanted Sam to slide home and be balls deep within himself. In an unsubtle bid to get his way, Dean canted his hips upward in a silent invitation. With the sure annoyance that only younger brothers can give, Sam ignored Dean by kissing him. Sam’s tongue flicked over Dean’s lips in tempo with his fingers and Dean couldn’t stop his hips from pumping. Dean’s cock was searching for any friction possible to help end his misery.

“Shhhh,” Sam breathed as he smiled against Dean’s lips. With another deep kiss, Sam added a third finger and Dean couldn’t help the whimpering that escaped him.

Sam leaned back and wrapped his fingers harshly against the base of Dean’s cock before sliding into Dean. Dean, again, couldn’t hold back the groan that rose out of him. Sam fit inside him perfectly and Dean began writhing beneath his brother. Sam, with more patience than Dean, began to slowly rock into his brother. With perfect concentration Sam would swivel his hips at just the right moment to hit that spot in Dean that made him see stars.

For one wild moment Dean was aware of the monumental unfairness of the situation. Sammy had already come once while Dean was fighting against a week, a week, of abstinence. Sam had released his vice like hold on Dean’s cock and his fingers were grasping Dean’s hips as if to pull his brother closer. Dean just had to hold on a bit longer though, already Sam’s breathing was changing and his thrusts stuttering. A cocky grin split Dean’s face to know that he could make Sam lose control so easily.

Sam leaned back, his thrusts becoming shallower so that he could grasp Dean’s cock again. He tapped once on Dean’s stomach as a warning that Sam was close as he closed his hand around Dean’s cock and began pumping. Dean, wanting to take matters into his own hands, slid his fingers around Sam’s and helped. Sam gave a harsh, guttural cry and began to twist his fist on the up stroke to better hit the bundle of nerves under the head of his brother’s cock making the pleasure crest on the right side of painful.

Just as Sam stiffened and moaned in orgasm, Dean began to fountain come onto his belly. Sam, trying to push deeper into Dean, slid the fingers of his other hand through Dean’s semen spreading a slick and sticky mess across his brother’s skin. As the languor after release hit Sam he slumped over Dean, mouthing against his brother’s neck in an almost kiss.

Sam managed to collect himself and pulled the blindfold off Dean, a silly grin on his features.

“’m glad you’re proud of yourself,” Dean chided half-heartedly. He was feeling pretty fucked out and was enjoying the lassitude from it.

Sam merely grunted in response and heaved himself up to grab a towel and a bottle of water. Haphazardly he splashed some of the liquid onto the white hotel towel and began to clean the come off them, as well as brushing the remaining red wax from Dean’s skin. Dean, less inclined to be mobile propped himself up on his elbows to watch his brother work.

“Move your lazy ass, we have a crossroads to get to,” Sam grunted as he began pulling his clothes on.

“I will. You still have all this shit to clean up though,” Dean told him with a perfectly serious face. Sam simply tossed the damp towel at his brother’s head, knowing that would be response enough. Dean sighed but began to work in tandem with his brother to eradicate all traces that they had ever been there. He just hoped that heavy scent of sex would clear out of the elephant before they opened for business again.

Dean opted to take the first leg of the drive. It would take them almost twelve hours of driving to reach the nearest crossroads that could be used for summoning. They didn’t want to risk setting the demon loose near an area with any sort of population. The brother’s had already agreed that they would split the driving so that they could reach it before Dean was due to meet the demon.

Feeling sated and just a touch sore, Dean blasted his music. Sam hid a grin, unsure if his brother was just relishing his last hours or if he was so certain that Sam had freed him. It wouldn’t do to ask, they both had to remain ignorant of what the other was thinking for just a few hours more. Sam’s smile twisted into a smirk. Oh. If only they all knew.

At the six-hour mark, Dean pulled over and swapped places with Sam. As soon as Dean was settled in the passenger’s seat he began to softly snore. It was a little after noon when Sam reached the deserted area that they had picked. Yarrow grew sparsely near the edges of the road, proving that it was perfect for their plans. They were early yet; Dean couldn’t summon the demon until the sun had set so Sam killed the engine and leaned back to rest.

The harsh clamor of Dean’s cell phone alarm woke them just before five. Already the sky was darkening into violet and the Winchester’s got out of the car.

“So. This is it, Sammy. We see if your big plan is gonna work,” Dean said, his face turned away from his brother.

Sam nodded even though he knew Dean couldn’t see him. Dean wouldn’t have to. They were always so in tune with each other, it amazed Sam that his brother hadn’t figured out what he was doing. Misdirection and sleight of hand, Dean’s hope made it easy to fool him.

Without giving Sam a chance to say anything, Dean walked purposely into the center of the crossroads. The sun was almost down, just a thin sliver on the horizon. As the last rays slid below the mountains, Dean said a short calling charm in Latin. Sam smiled; he always loved the way the dead language sounded falling from Dean’s lips.

The air seemed to warp and bend before the demon appeared, this time wearing the body of young woman who seemed barely out of her teens. Sam almost laughed at the look of disappointment that flitted across Dean’s face. Obviously his brother was hoping for another busty brunette.
“My, my, my. Dean Winchester’s come early to the dance,” the demon clucked, fluffing her shoulder length sandy hair with one neatly manicured hand. Her large blue eyes tracked Dean’s movement as he stepped toward her.

“I thought it would be rude to keep you waiting,” Dean grinned, venom lacing the words.

The demon reached out, as if her nails could snag Dean’s soul from his chest. She made a pouting moue as if she had hit a barrier. Her thin fingers wouldn’t, quite, touch Dean.

“Have you been a naught boy? It won’t matter, Dean, I’ll still take you with me,” she almost snarled the last bit. Dean simply shrugged and watched aggravation paint her cheeks with a pink blush.

“Actually, I’m afraid I’m the one who’s been ‘naughty’,” Sam piped up and waved gaily at the demon.

With a slight snarl, the demon pushed her fingers toward Dean again only to find an invisible wall blocking her from her prize. Her pleasantly pretty face twisted into an angry grimace as she tried again and again to put her hands on Dean and claim him. Sam, adding to her fury, began to laugh mockingly.

“What have you done? Neither of you can break the contract or else little Sammy will turn into a rotting meat bag. You can only prolong the inevitable for so long,” she hissed, spittle flying from her lips. Her eyes glowed a dark red and her petite hands had hooked into claws.

“I’m not trying to break your contract, I merely superseded it,” Sam answered pleasantly. Dean flicked a glance at Sam to see his brother leaning insouciantly against the Impala.

“You can’t do that,” the demon said but there was a hesitation in her voice.

“I can. You do know who I am, right?” Sam asked lazily. Dean’s stomach sank as he realized what Sammy had done. The ritual hadn’t been to free Dean; it had been to bind Dean to Sam. It probably had the added benefit of awakening Sam’s latent psychic abilities. Sam wouldn’t want to go to Hell defenseless, Dean snarled internally. However, as the demon whirled back to him, Dean held up his hands to show he was blameless. His best game face was on; she couldn’t be allowed to know that they were anything but united.

“He does have a point,” Dean reasoned.

“You’re going to take both of us because I’m ready to take my rightful place on the Throne of Azazel. You do understand what that means, right?” Sam asked as if speaking to a slow child. The demon’s cheeks darkened for a second time but she bowed her head.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good,” Sam said happily as he walked over to take his place by Dean’s side. “You may take him, but he’ll always be under my protection.”

The demon nodded, her eyes sliding to see that Sam’s arm was draped across Dean’s shoulders, Dean’s arm was comfortably wrapped around Sam’s waist. Bound for hell, anyway. She should have known, all of Hell should have known. The demon stepped forward; she’d be able to claim Dean now. With trepidation she placed a hand on each brother’s chests. Hell would never be the same again.

Yay for me!

2007-10-28T03:44:05Z

I think I might have said something SEVERAL MONTHS ago on my LJ about Missa and her evil psychic whammy. Well, she implanted this fiendish idea of Sam & Dean & an elephant in my head. I've been trying to get it out for ages. Well, since August. Dean just wasn't co-operating. Today? Today was my last day of work and I came home and finished that bastard!

Now I just need to get it beta'd before posting it. I've asked at spn_betas so I hope that someone wants to do it. *crosses fingers and toes*

Missa, it is for you. I know it doesn't help in any realistic way but hopefully it will help to take your mind off of everything for a bit. I wish I was closer so I could just be there as support for you, hun. {{hugs}} The Gods will work things out, whether we understand Their inscrutable nature or not. We just aren't seeing the big picture on this one to know.

A damn door to hell!!!

2007-10-26T02:07:19Z

Srsly, Sam should have hit her.

Nuns. Never a good sign. *shudders*

Damn. That nun can scream.

Uh, WOOT!!! The Colt? And Bobby? They loves me. And the light banter? Oh, Show. You so loves me. *squee*

I love how Bobby is like their Daddy now. I always liked Bobby better than John.

Andy was... possessed? ROFL. Oh, Sammy. You have such a way with words. *dies*

2 effing months have gone by?

Oh, Dean. You and mirrored ceilings.

'Sister'? Yah. Right. I don't think I would've been doing that with my sister.

'You were in school'. Was Dean cheatin' on Sammy? Why did that line sound so... 'plz get all jealous'?

His 'sister' had the devil in her. Show, are you condoning incest? I think you is. I think you is. Oh, my.

Is this like Dean's ultimate motel room or what? Magic fingers and mirrored ceilings? How can it get much better? Only if they show Sam & Dean & mirror in a compromising condition.

That's right, Sammy. Stop Dean from jumping the hoor. And by that I mean hooker.

Fit her ass on a nickel? Never heard that one before.

S: You drink hurricanes? D: I do now. *dies* Oh, Dean. You are so shameless. I love that Sammy loves that about you.

Has anyone else noticed that Dean's flirting is pretty well tolerated by Sam only when Dean doesn't have a chance in hell. Not that there would ever b e a time that Dean didn't have a chance... but ya'll know what I mean.

Dude. I'm callin' it. The priest is a demon.

Toys trump oils. yay. I learn something new every day. OK. Maybe I already knew that.

Bobby? You isn't gonna be gettin' in troubles here are you? Oh, you is. Just shoot the hoor. Yay! Bobby! You shot her! I effing hate Ruby. I really dislike that she's calling Bobby names. Listen, biatch, just fall over ded and do us all a world of good.

Poo. I missed something because Sean called to make sure I got home OK. That was sweet of him. =)

Yeah. I wanna eat Dean up too.

Oh, Dean. Thank you for saying no to the hooker. I really would've been sad if Show made you that shallow.

Oh, Sammy. You are so screwed. And not in a good way.

Bartender chick. I think you are in trouble. Dean. I loves it when you is SMRT. Dean with the Latin! Hooray!

Bitch! Don't top Dean from saying pretty words!

Heh. Dean called her a bitch. chee. I like how she told Dean that he was trapped too. But! We know something you don't know! Sammy will come and save Dean and they will kiss and make out and have raunchy you-has-been-saved sex!

Damn! Show is only half over? Wow. This episode seems to have a lot packed into it.

See? I told you. Even Dean knows that Sammy will come for him.

Yay. Hooker now targeting Sammy. Boo.

I like how the bartender thinks Sammy is just going to watch. I think Sammy would join in. Er. What?

Well. Now I'm kinda likin' the Casey-demon. She's a smart cookie.

Oh, Sammy. Hun. You is in the wrong house, baybee.

'Suit yourself, princess!' *dies* I loves it. Poor Sammy. Everyone thinks your the girl.

LUCIFER! Hi, muffin! You are the most beautiful! You wouldn't bow! LUCIFER!!!!!!! *squee* Damn. I really like this demon chick now.

Dean. Oh, Dean. The pit of despair. One way ticket. Oh, darling.

Whoo. Tol' j'all that the priest was a demon. I so win.

Good job, Dean. Lie with that game face on. You're terrified. Probably not for yourself, but for Sam. You need to know that he's going to be OK and now you're getting the idea that he might not be OK with you gone.

So. he was Azazel. Rock.

Sam? Step up to the plate? Oh, noes. I is a little worried how this season is going to play out. I see some interesting possibilities tho'. And a way out of the Deal with that nugget of information. *strokes Show*

Oh, Casey-demon. Pledging your loyalty to Sam? What better way to get on Dean's good side?

"Sammy, be careful." Oh, Dean. you are such a good brother.

NOT THE IMPALA!!!!!

I'd say the Colt is working again.

Dean? You were going to save her? A Demon? Oh, Dean. Oh, Dean.

Squee! Beowulf commercial!!!!!!

Dean? Now you is worried that Azazel was right? And Bobby? Try to be more convincing when you lie. Seriously.

Die, Ruby. Just roll over and die. I'm so sick of you. You had a couple of lines last time that were funny, but now you are just grating.

SHOW???? DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE! IF YOU DO THIS, I AM GOING TO BE VERY CROSS WITH YOU. RUBY CAN BE RUBY, NOT ANYONE ELSE. Man. I really will not be a happy camper if they do what I'm afraid of. *sigh*

Hurricane
1 1/4 oz. light rum
3/4 oz. dark rum
pineapple juice
orange juice
1 splash grenadine
1 splash sweet and sour mix
1 slice pineapple - for garnish

-Fill a hurricane glass or pint glass with ice.
-Pour in alcohols, then fill glass with equal amounts of pineapple juice and orange juice.
-Pour in a splash of grenadine and sweet and sour mix.
-Cover and shake.
-Garnish with a slice of pineapple on the glass rim.

OK. It's official

2007-10-21T20:02:53Z

I'm going to be doing NaNoWriMo this year. For real. Not like last year when I moved two weeks into the writing. Or the year before when Heika died and I hit 50K but didn't actually finish the story.

Who else will be doing it? Let me know your name on there and I'll add you as a friend. I am, as always, the uninspired pkabyssinian.

Should I post what I get done on here? Or will that bore all of you to tears?

Kisses and may the words fly from your fingers onto the blank page.