Recent entries from make SHOW not WAR - the blog of ANNJ
NOTE: This blog has been rated FR13 by the author. Blog content is not moderated by TtH
„Ich hatte schon immer den Verdacht, daß das Ausblasen der Kerzen auf der Geburtstagstorte ein getarnter Gesundheitstest für die Versicherung ist.“
Liebe Rica, lass dir die Geburtstagstorte dadurch aber nicht verderben :-) Wünsche dir alles erdenklich Gute. Allem voran Gesundheit und Zufriedenheit in deinem beruflichen und privaten Leben.
Ich hoffe du hattest einen schönen Tag mit lieben Menschen.
It just makes me smile (and jump up and down very much to my boyfriends amusement)
Fairy Tale Thursday:
An old Italian man lived alone in the country. It was Spring and he wanted to dig his tomato garden, as he had done every year, but it was very hard work for the aging man as the ground was hard. His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was currently in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:
I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If only you were here my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.
A few days later he received a letter from his son:
Not for nothing, but don't dig up that garden. That's where I buried the BODIES.
At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived at the old man's house and dug up the entire area. However, they didn't find any bodies, so they apologized to the old man and left.
That same day the old man received another letter from his son.
Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That's the best I could do under the circumstances.
Ja, liebe lupina78
. Du bist gemeint :-)
Hab einen schönen Tag (was davon jetzt noch übrig ist).
So, I might have a teeny weeny question for you, dearest f-list. Does anyone live in Miami or has at least a little insider knowledge where one might spend a night between to flights without having to pay enough money that one could have rented a private jet in the first place?
Background: Next weekend my sister comes back from her traveling in Central America and she and her friend need some place to stay from March 2 to 3 not too far away from Miama Airport. Of course there's enough hotels but since doesn't that much of a fortune I'd be thankful for any tip you might have.
Ok, off to bed. Sleep's calling.
my life has been turned upside-down by a little girl called Lilly who uses my every second and my every nerve to keep me busy. I LOVE being a mom. It's nothing one can describe with words and I won't even try. So the person I am right is exactly what I need to be, dark circles under the eyes and skitterish nerves included.
But I've come to realize that I've changed. I'm not sure when or if I'll ever again be the person that I was before. The one that fan-girled about SPN or wrote Fanfiction because I needed to get my creativity on paper. There's neither time for that in my daily schedule neither room for that within my head right now. I'm really sorry about that because I miss all of it. I miss fan girling and writing as much as I miss going out to watch movie or whatever. I miss writing entries about other things in my life than the One Subject. I miss it all SO MUCH because it had always been an important part of me.
But I can't. Not now.
So, you might think I've become boring and uninteresting and unimaginative and if that is so, so be it. I'd understand if you wanted to defriend me. No hard feelings. Promise. I don't want you to feel any obligation towards me because I've barely the time to keep up with all of my friends right now anyway.
Uhm, so. That's it, I suppose.
Love you, miss you, hug you all
There’s a billion reasons not to have children and only one good reason for: Love. And I’m not talking Hollywood love here but the real deal. The love that makes women lift cars, take bullets, fight evil grown men (plural) single handedly or become supernaturally empathetic when it comes to their kids. The Love with a capital ‘L’ that leaves you physically and emotionally broken and you don’t even mind.
Why I’m so philosophical?
So, this weekend we’ve had a discussion at my parent’s home about the question why the hell would anyone in this world get children even though there’re so much more reasons not to have one? And isn’t “getting children” awfully egoistic from a logical point of view?
Fact is, this world is a mess. There’s murder, rape, war. Not to mention diseases, natural disasters, nuclear weapons and power station (that explode at times and leave whole countries a mess). Who are you to decide that someone else has to suffer through idociy of mankind? Also, there’s the fact that children are exhausting. They cost money, the cost nerves and eventually a few of my own years of life, I’m sure. Mostly what you get in return is sleepless nights and dirty diapers. Later in life it’s going to be temper tantrums, ruined furniture/clothes/carpets/etc. And then there’s puberty. Let’s not forget puberty when your kid HATES you just for being alive. And when your kid is a grown up and (hopefully) finally appreciates what you did for him/her, your kid moves away and begins a life of its own. Shiny!
When I was born in the GDR you actually had advantages in terms of financial benefits. Today, you still get child benefits for every child. It’s not much but it’s the thought that counts. Of course there’s not just a small group of women/families abusing this money and YES, that’s a major case of egoistic.
But generally speaking: Is having kids egoistic?
Let’s presume you’re ...
... but also the worst.
I can't even tell you how much you suck right now. Asking for thousands of Dollars from people who want to flee? That's sick. Regular fees? Pleeeease! That's bullshit!!! Why don't you just double the fees? I mean, you're being so subtle so far after all.
Dear Nuclear Power stations,
I think it's admirable and heroic that there're actually Japanese who want to sacrifice themselves by helping out in the contaminated area but... honestly... is there anyone among you who's actually responsible? Someone who's pocketing the money from this institution? I doubt it! Yeah, yeah, I know. There's no one responsible per se but still. There's people who should be cleaning the mess and then there's the volunteers...
Dear German nuclear power politics,
you know what? Nevermind! It's not like we a saying in that.
This whole thing just makes me cry. And I don't want to cry. Not now. I have other things to do
I was strangely humble about my wishlist last year but now it's time to take care of myself *nods*. Being pregnant with my first child makes me wish for a better world but since I probably won't get that I'll go for something else:
1. I intend to raise my baby bilingually (I'm German but English is the language I actually dream in... weird, I know) so I'd love to get English children books or songs or cds or poems like lullabies or kids rhymes or just simple prayers that are appropriate for youngsters. So if you have things like that to offer I'm all ears and eyes. If you have books to give away I'd be willing to give away my adress.
2. Socks! The more colorful the better. I just love socks!
3. Christmas cards/e-cards.
4. Inspiration for the decoration of the nursery. Do you have pics of your kid's nursery? I'm pretty clueless about how it's supposed to look like. I know I want Disney figures on the walls and my sister and a friend of mine are willing to do the painting. They did it before and it looks AWESOMEAWESOMEAWESOME but besides that I'm totally at a loss (fyi... I don't know the gender yet but I hope to find out on Thursday)
5. My paid lj account will expire early next year and since getting a baby is ridiculously costly I'm not sure I'm willing to pay for another year. So, uhm... yeah... that'd be... *clears throat*...
... Wishing for things is kinda embarrassing.
So, now go and have your own wishlist :-)
Edited for a #6:
6. Recs for audiofics (Supernatural, Criminal Minds, Buffy, Sentinel, Haven and and and...) but strictly GEN! Preferably case fics or any kind of fic that has an actual plot (I'm not picky as long as there's no sex) and is longer than ... say... 20 minutes or so.
I only have love for this!
Title: Untitled (looks like my muse failed me in this point)
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Dammit!
Prompt: Great big Sammy. Little tiny box. And everything that he's ever been afraid of seems to somehow get in there with him. If he could just get out. If he could just move to bang on something for help. If only the digging he could hear was really Dean.
Warnings: I hate to repeat myself but... eewwww! So don't wanna be in Sam's shoes. Plus, my muse didn't exactly get along with the prompt. It had its own mind.
It’s the first thing he realizes. Right before he finds out that it’s not the air that presses against his chest but something solid. Something unforgiving. He wants to lift it off his torso but his hands are as trapped as the rest of his body.
And that’s when he wakes. Really wakes up. And wishes he could back to sleep.
He opens his eyes. Wide open. Wider yet. But it doesn’t make any difference. It’s dark. So very pitch dark. Dark enough that he sees white rings scattered in the darkness, wandering with his gaze. Like worms creeping over his eyeballs. Blinking hastily, he tries again. But there’s still nothing. He surrenders. Knows, that’s just his eyes playing trick on him.
He tries to take a deep breath but his chest doesn’t have room to expand. His ribcage feels like it’s in a vice like grip on someone’s work bench. The air, the precious air, won’t get past his throat and he swallows, forces himself to calm down even though he knows it’s useless. And too late.
He can hear his blood rushing in his ears. Can feel the sweat on his forehead roll along his temple, vanishing in his hairline. Squeezing his eyes shut again he counts. He doesn’t get far. Loses concentration after “thirteen...” and starts from the beginning. He won’t even try to move his feet because he knows...
... my muse decided to play along and gifted me with enough inspiration for two tiny oneshots written for the meme at sharp_teeth Title:
Not mine. Shame. Yadda.Prompt: Teeth are all that remains of Jess after the fire. Sam steals them: they're so perfect, white.Warning:
Probably more disturbing than usual. I mean it! Consider yourself warned.
He carries them in a small box. One of those tiny inconspicuous things in which young woman usually find their engagement rings in. Huge and sparkling and much more worth than the particular man can actually afford. With light breaking in it and making it twinkle like a fallen star.
The white pearls he's staring at aren't twinkling anymore. They might have... once. But that's the past. Now they've turned into a dull beige. No more than aging bones. But in Sam's eyes, they're still twinkling. He can see them surrounded by her smile. Her lips widening and her white teeth look like they're alive. White and shining and perfect. It's really just the cheap light in the motel room bathing them in this dull, yellowish glimmer. It is!
Carefully, Sam touches one, caresses it. Imagines it sending goose bumps over his dead girlfriends body and he's half awed, half disgusted. No, probably more awed, now that his face lightens up in dream-like reminiscence.
He softly closes the lid and puts the red velvet box back into his backpack. Stuffs it deep into the depths between socks and shirts and jack knives just as the door opens and Dean enters, grinning. A brown bag of gooey goodness and hopefully a salad for Sam. The smell of coffee wafts over, chasing away her perfume and t...
Für meine deutsch-sprachigen f-listers.
Eine Freundin von mir hat vor kurzem ihr eigenes Blog eingerichtet... was an und fürsich schon eine ziemlich überraschende Wendung war, da Computer wohl in ihren Augen noch nicht reif für dieses Jahrtausend waren... oder auch umgekehrt. Auf jeden Fall hat sie jetzt ein Blog und - was noch viel wichtiger ist - ist eine in meinen Augen begnadete Schriftstellerin/Karikaturistin/Satirikerin. Sucht euch was aus. Naja, bei ihrem Vater konnte nur sowas bei rauskommen. Der ist nämlich ein recht erfolgreicher Lokal-Kabarettist.
Wie auch immer, ihren Blog findet ihr hier: DickeFaxen
Und einen kleinen Ausschnitt aus einem ihrer Texte gibt's gratis noch dazu:„Was ist denn das hier…hier muss doch irgendwo… das kann doch nicht…“
Seit reichlichen fünf Minuten durchsuchte ich nun schon die Kabine der öffentlichen Toilette. Das ganze Teil war komplett verchromt. Der Architekt hatte hier wohl seine Vorliebe für Funkeln und Blitzen ausgelebt. Da konnte man schon froh sein, dass anstelle des Klopapiers keine Rolle Alufolie an der Wand hing. So in etwa hatte ich mir die Toilette auf einer Raumfähre vorgestellt. Naja, soweit man sich eben Toiletten auf Raumfähren vorstellt…
Aber an einer Spülvorrichtung war offensichtlich gespart worden. Wo war dieses blöde Ding nur? Ich zweifelte langsam ernsthaft an meinem Verstand.
An der Wand befanden sich lediglich zwei kleine Silberknöpfe, die sich allerdings als völlig nutzlos erwiesen und vermutlich nur zur Verwirrung des Benutzers und eventuell zur Belustigung der Toilettenfachkraft konstruiert worden waren. Nach diesem Gedanken verbrachte ich drei weitere Minuten in der Kabine damit, nun die Kamera zu suchen, die hier sicherlich irgendwo angebracht war und meine völlige Inkompetenz bezüglich des Spülens farbenfroh dokumentierte...
Before I forget about it completely... I made another video for the summer_sam_love
challenge for the episode "Home".
Unfortunately, stupid youtube won't let people watch it in Germany so I reposted it at videovault, where you need an account. And to make the fail epic, megaupload hates me and keeps giving me error messages when i want to upload it *sigh*.
So, if you have the incomprehensible need to take a peek and can't watch it on youtube or don't have an account for vidders.net/
send me word and I'll think of something.Home
Song: Ana Johnson - We are
Spoilers: 109 - Home
Summary: Home is where the pain is the strongest.
Or watch it here: vidders.net/video/2820784:Video:284562
Somewhen I was Meant to Be
: Sam, Dean, John, Bobby
swearing, cursing - Dean seems to have a knack for the f-word, tsk! (canonical) main character death(s)... kinda. It's complicated.
Written for the bigbang 2010. The beautiful art was magicked by tanpopo03
. Honey, you totally exceeded my exceptation by miles and miles *swoons*. Thank you *hugs*. I also want to thank gwendolynd
for having done such an amazing beta job. All the remaining mistakes are totally mine. Also, I want to thank fickleanactoria
who - at the beginning of all this - made some very valid points. She really had some nice insights and then... poof... she went missing *is sad*. Hope you are okay and thank you anyway.Summary
: In 1999 Sam dies on a hunt. It was an accident or at least that's what John and Dean keep telling themselves until eight years later a dying woman tells them to find him. To find Sam. What they find, though, isn't Sam but a young mother and her strangely familiar eight year old son who is the key to Azazel's defeat...and to Sam.
~ Chapter 1 ~
And the answer that you're seeking
For the question that you found
Drives you further to confusion
As you lose your sense of ground
Alexi Murdoch - Breathe
April 13th, 2007 Clearwater, Kansas
The storage depot in front of them was bathed in a silver hush from the moon light. The steel sparkling and blinking on every corner and if Dean hadn't known any better he could have sworn it was still in full use as the clothing manufacture it had been built for. But research and the obligatory interviews had confirmed that it had been closed three years ago after fourteen people had died in a killing spree of a former worker, who had been fired after stealing tools and a few layers of clothing. Ever since the building was standing empty, a few miles out of Clearwater.
John and Dean had gotten into town after Bobby's hint at numerous demonic signs. The usual. Strange weather phenomena and a few missing persons who could have easily taken the bus to start a new life in frigging New Mexico. They had found out about the fabric shortly after, yet after visiting it twice over the last three days they hadn't been able to find anything more suspicious than a falcon's nest under the tinny roof. So maybe no demons but the place sent out some strange vibes anyway. Since there were ghosts who tended to come out and play only in the dark they had decided to have a look at it at night. Or at least John did. Dean had found it remarkably strange that John was so interested in something as mundane as a 'maybe haunted' building in the outskirts of Clearwater, when they hadn't found any other signs of supernatural occur...
~ Chapter 2 ~
If you're missing I will run away,
I will build a path to you.
If you're missing I will run away,
because I find myself in you.
Something Corporate - Runaway
April 13th, Palo Alto, Cindy's Diner
The diner was bustling with people. Students, most of them. Some men in expensive suits sat in a far corner, gossiping loudly about an arranged contract. The little bell was busy ringing every few seconds. The whole diner was alive. A living organism. People were rushing by like planets in an orbit and her little boy was one of the outer moons, small and inconspicuous but steady. His sight was familiar from where she was standing. Every day after school he came in and sat on the stool on the far end of the counter, unpacked his stuff and did his homework until her shift was over and they could go home together. A ritual as constant as the rise and fall of the sun.
His unruly mob of hair was hanging low over his ever present notebook and he was unaware of her staring at him.
She did this a lot; stare at her son. As if - even now after eight years - she couldn't believe the luck she had with this little boy. She had been seventeen when she got pregnant; her former boyfriend had been twenty. Emphasis on former. He had left her after he found out she was pregnant and when she thought about this these days, she was glad about how things turned out because sharing the love she felt for Matt was unthinkable.
The very first time she had him in her arms she looked into his eyes, still a bright blue as most baby eyes were and had known (known) what name she'd have to give him, b...
~ Chapter 3 ~
Where’s the truth
For us to use
Cause all we seem to do is lose
Who we are and how we’ve tried
Are we all the same inside
It’s now or never to decide
Three Days Grace - Now or Never
April 27th, Palo Alto
As long as he could remember, this had been his room.
The blue curtains with the yellow moons and twinkling stars. The neat row of stuffed animals sitting in the small crack between wall and bed. The lamp hanging from the ceiling in form of a flying saucer from which bouncing figures were hanging from. When he entered the room, it felt right to be there. As if it was waiting for him after a day at school like a loyal friend, a little puppy greeting him at the door. But as much as he enjoyed it, he felt like it wasn't meant for him and he was just waiting for the day when he would have to pack his bags and leave and never come back.
Matt was only eight years old but there were times when he wondered how often he had left dear places without remembering it.
Sometimes he felt like his existence had a spirit of its own. Another mind, hidden in his own. Like his life was a huge ocean and his eight year old self was standing at the shore, knowing that there was so much more water beyond the visible horizon. More water and more memories like the countless fishes in the sea. Undiscovered sea monsters and giant krakens. It was a thought that used to make him feel vulnerable and afraid. Experience had taught him, that these kind of thoughts were uncommon for his age and whenever he had dared to address his fears, his mother looked at him strangely. Amused, bemused and ...
~ Chapter 4 ~
Though these wounds have seen no wars
Except for the scars I have ignored
And this endless crutch, well it's never enough
It's been the Worst Day Since Yesterday
Flogging Molly - Worst Day since Yesterday
Their motel was only four blocks away from the diner, Dean realized when he arrived shortly after nine with his father. Nested between apartment houses it was run down and in severe need of paint and thereby looking like any other motel they had been into. Its shabbiness felt familiar, welcome even. Dean stepped inside, heaving the large duffel bag over his shoulder onto the bed, the weapons rattling inside.
After being picked up, he and his father had made a quick visit to the morgue to get a professional confirmation of the cause of death. But the interrogation hadn't produced new insights. Some blahblah about exploding blood vessels and hypocritical disapproval about too high blood cholesterol levels by a pathologist who looked like a stranded whale himself and father and son had called it a night.
While his father was his usual grim self, Dean found it hard to concentrate, his thoughts meandering back to Dee and her son and, admittedly, the apple pie which he was now putting on the small table next to the only window.
The dessert had gotten a little more pressure than necessary and looked a little flatter than it had been when he'd gotten it. The juicy goodness was leaking out of foil and he licked his sticky fingers. The taste hadn't changed a bit.
"I'm not hungry. You want the pie?" He asked his father, who had vanished into the bathroom leaving the door open. Dean could he...
Back~ Chapter 5 ~
Running just as fast as you can,
You jump ship way quick but maybe it's thicker Than Water,
I've got some good news for you my friend,
Man is faster,
You jump ship way quick but maybe it's thicker Than Water,
One day you wake up and realize just what you're after.
Todd Hanigan - Thicker
They left LA before the morning rush hour begun. The sun was only just peeking from behind the mountains ahead of them when they left the city behind with Destiny and her son in the backseat. Matt was huddled beside his mother and Dean had hinted at the fact that they'd need to get some clothes for him while he had handed Dee one of his t-shirts to change out of her own clothes, which were still smelling of fire and sulfur.
Besides the lack of sleep for most of them, the night had been quiet without any signs of demons and Dean had already begun to wonder whether they were dragging along a pair of uninvolved civilians who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Then again, one look at the boy and something wrapped itself around Dean's spine like the legs of a spider.
The boy was intelligent, bright and adorable. He hadn't realized it before but when he smiled his cheeks dimpled, his eyes sparkled and his slightly crooked teeth looked too big for his face. The boy screamed Sammy in his face. And when he looked at him with these innocent eyes Dean felt like either running away or shaking until Sammy - his Sammy - fell out of him like coins out of a upside-down pair of jeans. It was a stupid thought and he had to gather all his might not to turn around repeatedly to stare at the boy (...
~ Chapter 6 ~
Misery sure loves company
And nobody's ever who they seem to be
The daily horror of people at their worst
And most selfish, one day, your bubble will burst
Milow - Darkness Ahead and Behind
A loud noise woke John the next morning and it took him a few seconds to realize he had slept in the car and the strange ringing wasn't the result of last night's excessive drinking but the ringing of his phone. With a groan he put his left hand on his aching forehead to shield his eyes from the daylight which was happily streaming into the car. With his right he fumbled in his pockets for his cell.
"What?" He bellowed into the device without looking at the caller ID. Who ever it was, the person had definitely deserved his bad mood.
"Good, you're alive then," a grumpy voice greeted him. "I've tried calling for ages. Where the hell are you?"
John groaned again, anger flaring at Bobby's pissed tone. "Who do you think you are? My fucking mother?"
"Did you ever see me wearing an apron and baking cookies for you?"
"Bobby...!" John grumbled with the hint of a warning.
"Thought so. So, where are you?"
"Missouri," John answered.
Bobby huffed questioningly, "You're in Missouri?"
"For fucks sake, don't make me puke, Bobby."
"So you're in Kansas," Bobby reasoned. "Dammit, don't make me worm everything outta your nose. What are you doing in Kansas?"
"Make it short then!"
Finally, John blinked his eyes open and took in his surroundings. The Impala was...
~ Chapter 7 ~
Stop every clock
Stars are in shock
The river will flow to the sea
I won't let you fly
I won't say goodbye
I won't let you slip away from me
Tears of an Angel - RyanDan
Wyoming was still a few hours away, the street in front of them lengthening like a rubber band under the darkening sky and Dean felt the strong urge to open the door and jump out of the driving car.
They had left Bobby's yard in the early morning hours and had stopped only to fill up on gas, water and a family pack of Snickers, which was now lying in the backseat discarded like everything else in their relationship. Never before had his father been more alien to him than in this moment, as they passed the borders of the state and entered Wyoming. The sound of the engine was the only audible background soundtrack and for Dean it seemed like it gained volume every few miles until it was the only thing filling his head. The steady rumble and the vibrations under his feet and back were lulling him into an almost meditative state of indifference.
So that's what it feels like to be my father, he thought and huffed barely audible but loud enough to get his father's attention.
"What!" His father said gruffly and concentrated back on the street. It felt enticingly good considering to just ignore his father's question and sink down into the lure of not-caring what his father was thinking or doing.
"Nothing," He replied finally, giving into the urge to answer when being asked a question. Didn't have to mean he couldn't lie, right?
It was his father's turn to huff and to Dean's surprise he began to sm...
~ Epilogue ~
Forgotten thoughts of yesterdays
Through my eyes I see the past
Puddle of Mudd - Drift and Die
July 21st, 2007, Singer Salvage Yard
The evening was warm. Flies were buzzing around and the smell of oil, grease and well-done steaks hung in the air, creating the feeling of home and family. He could almost hear Sam's complaints that he wanted salad instead of greasy meat. That he didn't want to train because he still had that essay to write. That he was sick of having to hunt. Dean snickered into the bottle of beer on his lips as he remembered that particular day almost nine years ago and his smile expired slowly, turning into a sad frown.
He couldn't hear Sam's complaints now. What he could hear was Bobby's throaty laughter and Sam's bursts of giggles as he played chess the older hunter in the dining room and kicking his ass in the process. A lightness that had nothing to do with the delicious beer in his hands made his stomach do flipflops. Like a whole swarm of butterflies was playing Quidditch in there.
The familiar sound receded into the background as he let his mind wander, enjoying the rare moment of peace before he'd have to take off again earlier than anticipated, probably still before the weekend was over. The evil didn't make holidays after all. As much as Dean wished, he would never get the apple pie life and the Sunday picnics that other families had. It didn't mean that Matt couldn't.
Matt, for once, who was as much Sam as he could without being him. There were differences between the Sam in Dean's memory and the one in the present. Most of them were good... like the ...
Made another vid because the movie "City of Embers" was prone to be turned into one.
Title: Finding God
Rating: PG-13 for Dean language
Characters: Dean, Chuck
Summary: It's a few months later when Dean finds God. Pity he doesn't even know that.
A/N: I know, everyone writes Codas these days so here's my two cents. Oh, unbetad by the way. Sue me!
Disclaimer: Not mine. Blahblah!
Summer has come and gone. A train passing, crowded with people and names, jobs and bottles with tea-colored liquids. None of it remains. Life turns into a highway and Dean is standing on the roadside ditch.
Well, actually, he's standing in front of a house. It looks inconspicuously mundane in this neighborhood but Dean knows better. He knows what's inside. Or Who.
He knocks. Raps hard with his knuckles against the wood. Twice. Listens to the rattle of the embedded window and takes a surprised step backwards when the door swings open, unlocked.
A sudden foreboding grips him and when he enters the house, he gets the distinct feeling that no one has been here for a long time. It sure looks lived in. In fact, it looks like a whole football team is living in it. Clothes are strewn all over the place. Through the open sliding door Dean catches a glimpse into the kitchen where dishware is stapled in the sink. But all these signs aside, this house feels empty. There's dust gathering on every surface and thick, fluffy flakes are populating the corners, celebrating their own party.
It smells odd, musty. Dean sneezes as dust tickles his nose, the sound strangely muffled yet way too loud. It even stirs up some dust from the ground and Dean fawns his hand in front of his eyes to clear the air.
There's no response. The couch is empty. A rumpled, scratchy looking blanket - probably older than Dean - is thrown over the side rest and a half empty glass of...something is resting on the small couch table. Waiting.
This is wrong a...