Inktober Day 9: Tried To Draw A Full Body Of My Pfp But Totally Messed Up The Face And Had To Tape A

Inktober Day 9: Tried to draw a full body of my pfp but totally messed up the face and had to tape a redraw over it :P

It’s after midnight my time but I just finished replaying Life Is Strange episode 1 (and got all the steam achievements) to celebrate Life Is Strange week :3

Thoughts:

This game has a lot more replayability than I thought it would.

I still don't forgive David for hitting Chloe even after knowing how it ends.

The Vortex Club concept still confuses me.

Kate Marsh deserved better!

Fictober Day 3

prompt: "I know you better"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Alcohol/substance abuse, Mild self-harm implication

Summary:

Dean's POV: In between S10 E3 and S10 E4 Dean slips away from Sam's careful watch to try to deal with his problems independently.

It was windy and cold outside. Not to mention raining. This was the third bar in Smith County that Sam had walked to and with his car still broken down and the only working car being the one Dean took Sam had no other choice but to trudge through the weather in his pursuit to find his brother. This time he got lucky, the familiar 1967 Chevy Impala was parked outside. He went inside to find Dean completely hammered, sitting at the bar. 

“Dean?”

“Sammy!”

“Common Dean, I'm here to take you home,” Sam said, clearly annoyed.

“Nooo. Come sit, have a drink,” Dean said while slurring his words. 

Sam sighed in exhaustion. “Dean, what are you doing? This self-destructive behavior… it’s getting old.” Sam reached into Dean's pocket to grab his keys and Dean was clearly too drunk to stop him. “Let's go,” he said rattling the keys in front of him.

Dean grabbed his jacket off of the back of the barstool and followed Sam back to the car. “You're such a buzz kill,” he said under his breath.

“Seriously, Dean! Look I know you're dealing with a lot right now but this isn't you.”

“Sam.”

“Don’t start with me. I already told you I forgive you for the Mark of Cain business–”

“Sam!” Dean interrupted him.

“What?”

“Pull over. Now.”

Sam sighed again before obliging knowing that Dean would have a fit if he let him throw up in his own car.

The two of them were on the side of the road for about 20 minutes while Dean threw up everything he ate, drank, and took that night. Sam was getting more and more impatient by the minute. “Talk to me, Dean. What's going on?”

Dean groaned. “It's nothing. Can't a guy just get a drink every now and then?”

“Come on Dean… I know you better than that. What's really going on?”

Dean sighed and leaned back on the side of the car. “It's just… you keep saying you've forgiven me… but that doesn't mean I've forgiven myself.” 

“So you thought disappearing, leaving a cryptic note, and drinking so much your liver will never recover was the right way to go about it.” 

“I'm not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“Well too bad.” Sam paused before pulling the note out of his pocket. “Going out to get fucked up. Don't come looking for me in the morning. Signed Dean,” he read off. “You can't just keep drowning your sorrows in alcohol and whatever else you're on right now.”

“It's just alcohol.”

“Really? Because you have a track record you know…” 

“What are you talking about?”

“You think I don't notice how the ashtray in the Impala is always full or how whenever you get a headache you just take pills from an unmarked bag and keep it pushing. You’re reckless and self-destructive and probably borderline suicidal at this point and these problems run way deeper than the Mark and you know it.”

“You're one to talk, you know.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I believe I remember you trying to buy sleeping pills off the black market a few years ago not to mention your method to keep the hallucinations away.”

“That was different,” Sam said with a scoff.

“Look. You know it. I know it. Our lives are screwed up enough as it is that we've earned our fair share of illicit assistance.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “That's a twisted way to think… You know maybe Cas was right. We should take a break– a real break.” Sam folded his arms over his chest. “We could drive out to the lake and just spend some time just you, me, and a reasonable amount of beer. How's that sound?”

“Sounds like a load of crap,” Dean says flatly. After letting the silence drag out he finally gives a real answer. “We can leave in the morning after I sleep this off.”

Inktober Day 8: F R O G !

Fictober Day 9

prompt: "Don't listen to me, listen to them"

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Sam's POV: Stereotypical body swap episode. Sam is stuck in Dean's body and Dean is in Sam's after an unfortunate run-in with a witch during their latest case.

“What the hell, Dean?!” Sam yelled from the motel bathroom.

Dean, dead asleep, jolted awake at the sound of Sam’s voice… or what he thought was Sam’s voice. Groggily, he sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “What? What is it?!”

Sam stormed out of the bathroom, and Dean squinted, only to be greeted by a bizarre sight… himself.

“Oh yeah, don’t listen to me. Listen to the random sketchy bartender telling you to try this weird drink. What could possibly go wrong?” Sam, now in Dean’s body, ranted sarcastically as he paced back and forth. Dean tried to calm him down, to no avail. 

“How was I supposed to know she was a witch?” Dean shot back defensively, trying to keep the panic at bay.

“I literally told you to be on guard while we’re in this town,” Sam, still pacing, crossed his arms, glaring at Dean in a way that only Sam could… except it was in Dean’s face, which made it all the weirder. 

“How was I supposed to know the shot was a body-swapping potion?”

Sam sighed, exasperated. “You know what, Dean, I’m hearing a lot of ‘How was I supposed to know’ and not a lot of ‘How am I gonna fix this.’”

Dean rubbed his temples, looking at his reflection in the mirror across the room. “Okay, okay. Let’s just call Cas and Rowena. Maybe one of them has an answer.”

A little while later, Dean was finally able to get a hold of Rowena from Sam’s phone. Cas had already zapped himself into their motel room and was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to figure out what the big deal was since he was used to having to navigate different vessels.

“Well, isn’t this just hilarious,” Rowena said over the speakerphone, clearly amused by the situation. “Body-swapping spells can be quite the spectacle.”

“Yeah, hilarious,” Dean grumbled sarcastically. “How do we fix it?”

“Oh, it’ll wear off on its own, dear. Give it 24 hours, and you’ll be back to your proper bodies.”

“Twenty-four hours?” Sam groaned. 

Cas finally chimed in. “I don’t see why this is so troubling for you two. I can still see you both clearly as you are. Your souls are unchanged. It’s just a different vessel.”

“Thanks for your profound insight, Cas,” Dean muttered. 

“Yeah, humans don't really operate in ‘vessels’ the way angels do,” Sam added.

Cas tilted his head to the side but continued anyway. “In the meantime, I can help you track down the coven that’s been stealing souls. It’s likely tied to the bartender who served Dean the drink.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean said dismissively as he rummaged through Sam’s duffel bag. The two brothers shared a similar sense of style due to having to share all the same thrifted clothes but Dean still always found his ways to stand out and he was determined to make one of Sam's shirts work for him.

Sam glared at his brother. “Alright, here’s the deal. You’re not allowed to eat complete junk like you normally do while you’re in my body.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Sammy.”

Sam crossed his arms. “My body is a temple, Dean. Don’t be an ass. I can literally feel your body falling apart on me. You should probably try eating healthier, too.”

Dean gave a nonchalant shrug. “I eat fine. A burger now and then never hurt anyone.”

Sam groaned in frustration. “Just… please, Dean, no red meat.”

Dean chuckled. “Okay, okay. I get it.” 

The fight with the witches was pretty run-of-the-mill they were able to figure out who the head of the coven was and put together some witch-killing bullets. The only issues came up from Sam being stuck in his brother's body and vice versa. Dean found himself unable to kick down doors because he wasn’t used to the way Sam’s strength differed from his, and Sam found himself being frequently hit on by girls. 

The next morning, after the coven had been dealt with and the 24 hours had passed, Dean and Sam woke up back in their own bodies. Dean studied his hand, feeling like himself again, while Sam gave him a long, tired look.

“So, you didn’t destroy my body with junk food, right?” Sam asked cautiously.

Dean smirked. “Would you relax?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Next time, please don’t accept random drinks from sketchy bartenders in witch towns.”

“Hey, lesson learned,” Dean said with a grin. “But admit it… being me for a day was kinda fun wasn't it?”

Sam shook his head. “Not even a little bit.”

Inktober Day 6