The very best thing
I'm house/dog-sitting at my sister-in-law's right now. Seven dogs (two customer's dogs, four of my s-i-l's, and one of my own), and a small single bed for all of us to sleep in. Well, except Archie, the Great Dane. He's kinda old and can't get up and down the stairs very easily, so he sleeps on the normal floor; unlike me, trapped in the basement. Anywho; I was woken at 5:25 this morning by one of the dogs (my own, I petulantly admit) running back and forth like a fiend across the upstairs floor, nails tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-ticking like some morbidly energetic clock of DEWM! Apparently she had to go to the bathroom. Now, why she decided to tell me this in just that manner, I do not know. A) she is accustomed to sitting by the bedroom door and whining (little brat) when she wants out; second, her nails are so short, I don't understand how they reached the floor. But I got up, let her out, staggered around and made angry faces, and then went back to bed. Only to be woken by three customers in a row calling; the phone beside my head. I ignored all three, since to do otherwise would deprive the answering machine of its purpose in life, and I'm not going to be party to a "why am I here???!!" moment in technology's existence.
BUT! Somehow, between the fiend of hell dog and the fuckers calling at 8:21, 9:55, and 9:57, respectively (on a Saturday morning, cocksuckers!) I managed to have the most kickass dream in the motherfucking WORLD! Apparently my subconcious decided the hiatus was much too long to survive, and started creating the 5th season all on its own. Allow me to recap:
Sam and Dean are skulking through the dark, drizzle-soaked streets of... somewhere. There's no one in sight; the buildings are dark, and we assume everyone is sleeping (not dead). Suddenly, the lights overhead, and the cable-runners for the electric busses (I dunno, maybe we're in England?), begin to short and spark. Dean says, "Oh, what the fuck." And Sam replies, "Castiel." (Dun dun dun!)
Ahead, they see something, a moving figure. Turns out to indeed be Castiel, wearing a really kickass red shirt, by the way (don't ask, I wouldn't have thought of it while awake). He stays ahead of them, leading them through the city with glimpses and clues. He even hops in a big red truck and leaves rubber marks (I DON'T KNOW, OKAY, STOP ASKING!). Things go hazy for a while after this mark, and I can't remember exactly how they meet up, but eventually they are all three together outside this big building/church thing. Castiel's freaking out and talking about betrayal and the wrath of God and his brothers; we piece out that most of the angels are involved in a major plot to use humanity as a series of gory blood sacrifices to call up their own demi-god thing to assist them in the war. Inside this building, the most notorious are gathering. And then things start getting *really* bad; the sky goes red, and everything goes slo-mo. Castiel is screaming for them to hide, and Dean's being an idiot and running around in circles, unable to decide whether to hide, grab Sam, or grab Castiel. Since Dean is so retarded and out of reach, Castiel snatches up Sam first, and runs him straight into the building full of bad people!
(Now, I do this weird thing when I'm dreaming; I'll dream the entire dream, and then head back to about midway, and redream it from a different perspective, or with different things happening. Thus was the case here.)
Sam's 1st POV: everything is red and fiery and slowed down; Castiel is dragging him straight through the doors of the bad guy's churchy headquarters, and shoving him between two pews. A little painful, getting all folded up and bent into shape for such a small fit, but there 's actually fire and brimstone raining out of the sky now, and none of it touching Sam, so he decideds to just lay still and go with it. Around him, rougue angels are screaming and burning and running.
Normal POV: Castiel runs back outside, looking for Dean, who had decided that hiding might be the better idea after all, and is escaping through a complicated series of doors, hallways, alleys, and houses. Castiel finds him, narrowly dodging fleeing angels of the not-good variety himself, and has a little screaming match, as the balls of flame keep pouring down. Apparently it's the actual Wrath of God (tm), or at least someone using it as little nuke blasts, since the existence of God is evidently in sharp doubt. Dean is demanding answers, and Castiel's having a mental breakdown, so... he just teleports Dean right the hell outta there.
(Next, everything segued sideways into this dream that was half Sam and Dean, and half Kirk and Spock. They're on a sight-seeing tour of a German town in the 20's or something (no war, I guess), and remincising about blah blah blah... and there's all this slashiness, and something about a submarine (the Nautilus, I think), and making out, but only one of them remembers... Anyway, whoever these two dudes were, they were seriously in love, and were taking a while to get around to it. But I'm pretty sure this portion had absolutely nothing to do with the main drama going on, so here we go again.)
(Here's where I go back and redream with new information in mind, or at least a different filter on.)
Sam's 2nd POV: There are angels in the room when he and Castiel come bursting through the doors, but only one of them notices their arrival. The others are caught up in this information-trance, or telepathy coma, or something. When Castiel stuffs Sam under the pews, it's to perfectly coincide with the oh-so-innocent stretching of the aware angel's wings; they cover Sam completely, hiding him both from view, and protecting him from the WoG when it arrives. The other angels wander back to conciousness, doing their demon knock-off thing about drinking blood, and raising the Great One, and sacrifices, et cetera. The angel protecting Sam is a spy for the Side of Good (tm). Here, my mind takes a grotesque turn toward the heterosexual; the girl angel, trying to keep Sam from being detected, shifts around to cover him with her robe, and decides to get in a little action while she's at it. One long, messy snoggage moment. Admittedly, it was a really good kiss; I got it from Sam's POV, mostly, and things were just going well. But weird; since when do I voluntarily dream about girl/boy yuckiness?
Anyway. There's another odd detour in dreamland here, only sort of half connected. Something about some angel being imprisoned by other, worster, ones. Apparently my mind thinks that an angel's true form is something like Pepto Bismal. This sickly pink fluid that's a great deal larger than their human hosts, but has all sorts of cool powers; for instance, as long as all of it is touching at any given moment, the angel can teleport itself anywhere. However, cut off even a molecule from contact with the rest, and you're stuck. So this poor guy is trapped in this giant potato-masher thing; his pinkness is washing all over the place, and he can't gather it up all at once. The bad guy's Mwahahaha-ing with glee, and eventually the beleagures good guy loses conciousness, and awakens on a raft in the middle of the ocean. A quick calculation; no visible land anywhere, and statistics say that there are only islands around. (What? I dunno.) He's been resolidified, and chopped into big chunks of beef. No, really; his head is sitting atop a big mound of bloody, raw beef. The raft is very 50's comic book; logs lashed together, a little mast, a tiny white scrap of flag fluttering at the top... Weird randomness ensues; other angels come to his rescue, and he reads this sappy fantasy book about elves (the favourite book in the garrison; ask anybody), and feels rejuvinated.
Meanwhile, in the future: Castiel's gone a little insane. He's been wandering and raving in the world for about thirty years, waiting for Dean to appear, because he sent Dean thirty years in the future to save him from burning death and REALLY NEEDS HIM RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. To keep himself occupied, he's been systematically picking off the leaders of the evil angel movement. One big baddie is this enormous chick with metal tentacle arms (ah, the future, and the vessels it has), who holes up in a industrialized church on the edge of a radiated, half-deserted city. (I probably need to stop reading Requiem.) Castiel is (I kid you *not*) storming the place wearing no clothes, and carrying a fucking huge machine gun/shotgun thing. Which he can shoot with one hand, despite the catastrophic kickback, because he's just AWESOME like that. I don't think I will ever bleach my mind (although, why would I want to? It's just so *cool*) of this image: Castiel running across an empty field, junk swinging wildly, roaring at the top of his lungs, banging out shot after shot with this six-foot cowboy-brand monster gun. And suddenly, there are Sam and Dean, staring at him in horror (fully clothed, I note), and Castiel screeches to a halt, all crazy-eyed and reclothed (bah!) and starts babbling about everything that's going on. Dean's like "Woah, little fella, calm down," but Castiel's been all by himself for thirty years, fighting the good fight, and waiting for Dean, and he's so insane and half-human that he's was screaming and sweating like a pig and *naked*, so he basically does his, "Look at me, I've had the worst time of my life waiting for you, and it'll take too long to explain everything, but I love you more than anything, and my life's shit without you, and feel my heart, it's beating so fast." Well, he only actually said the last part (and there's this lovely, tension-rife moment with heart-to-hand touching), but the rest was implied. Sam's like "Wuh?" because last he remembers is his angel macking on him, and then just going, "All right, I'm sending you to wherever Dean is before the sitch gets any worse," and there he was, staring Castiel's swinging junk in the proverbial face.
That's basically the end of it, although I do recall Dean insisting they go back to the present (ah, Dean, ye of the little brain in regards to time-space and quantum mechanics...), and Castiel being like, "Okay, we just have to run backwards across this field, and every hundred feet we travel will take a decade of time off." (I'm so deadly serious, he said that, and I'm surprised he didn't add anything about 88mph.) So Dean and Sam and Castiel are running across this field, carrying the giant machine/shotgun, and the evil tentacle woman is roaring and chasing them... and that's when I decided to wake up. Well, customer number 3 called at 9:57, and I couldn't go back to sleep after. (FUCK YOU, MISTER DOUCHEBAG!)
But yeah, I'm feeling pretty good. That whole ridiculous dream was SO incredibly slashy, but not technically anymore so than the show itself. I mean, there was some innuendo, but of the, "Omg, you're my soulmate, I'd die for you," variety, not "Hey, stick your hand down my pants." Oh, wait... Never mind. It makes me happy, at any rate. Even my subconcious is a hardcore Dean/Cas shipper.
I have to go feed the dogs and get dressed and all that, because I'm going to see the new Terminator movie at one!!!! I'm so excited! All peppy for remakes and reimaginings now that Star Trek has made me go crazy in love again. Although Christian Bale is a card-carrying fucknugget, I do so adore the Terminator movies.
PEACE OUT, BITCHES!
BUT! Somehow, between the fiend of hell dog and the fuckers calling at 8:21, 9:55, and 9:57, respectively (on a Saturday morning, cocksuckers!) I managed to have the most kickass dream in the motherfucking WORLD! Apparently my subconcious decided the hiatus was much too long to survive, and started creating the 5th season all on its own. Allow me to recap:
Sam and Dean are skulking through the dark, drizzle-soaked streets of... somewhere. There's no one in sight; the buildings are dark, and we assume everyone is sleeping (not dead). Suddenly, the lights overhead, and the cable-runners for the electric busses (I dunno, maybe we're in England?), begin to short and spark. Dean says, "Oh, what the fuck." And Sam replies, "Castiel." (Dun dun dun!)
Ahead, they see something, a moving figure. Turns out to indeed be Castiel, wearing a really kickass red shirt, by the way (don't ask, I wouldn't have thought of it while awake). He stays ahead of them, leading them through the city with glimpses and clues. He even hops in a big red truck and leaves rubber marks (I DON'T KNOW, OKAY, STOP ASKING!). Things go hazy for a while after this mark, and I can't remember exactly how they meet up, but eventually they are all three together outside this big building/church thing. Castiel's freaking out and talking about betrayal and the wrath of God and his brothers; we piece out that most of the angels are involved in a major plot to use humanity as a series of gory blood sacrifices to call up their own demi-god thing to assist them in the war. Inside this building, the most notorious are gathering. And then things start getting *really* bad; the sky goes red, and everything goes slo-mo. Castiel is screaming for them to hide, and Dean's being an idiot and running around in circles, unable to decide whether to hide, grab Sam, or grab Castiel. Since Dean is so retarded and out of reach, Castiel snatches up Sam first, and runs him straight into the building full of bad people!
(Now, I do this weird thing when I'm dreaming; I'll dream the entire dream, and then head back to about midway, and redream it from a different perspective, or with different things happening. Thus was the case here.)
Sam's 1st POV: everything is red and fiery and slowed down; Castiel is dragging him straight through the doors of the bad guy's churchy headquarters, and shoving him between two pews. A little painful, getting all folded up and bent into shape for such a small fit, but there 's actually fire and brimstone raining out of the sky now, and none of it touching Sam, so he decideds to just lay still and go with it. Around him, rougue angels are screaming and burning and running.
Normal POV: Castiel runs back outside, looking for Dean, who had decided that hiding might be the better idea after all, and is escaping through a complicated series of doors, hallways, alleys, and houses. Castiel finds him, narrowly dodging fleeing angels of the not-good variety himself, and has a little screaming match, as the balls of flame keep pouring down. Apparently it's the actual Wrath of God (tm), or at least someone using it as little nuke blasts, since the existence of God is evidently in sharp doubt. Dean is demanding answers, and Castiel's having a mental breakdown, so... he just teleports Dean right the hell outta there.
(Next, everything segued sideways into this dream that was half Sam and Dean, and half Kirk and Spock. They're on a sight-seeing tour of a German town in the 20's or something (no war, I guess), and remincising about blah blah blah... and there's all this slashiness, and something about a submarine (the Nautilus, I think), and making out, but only one of them remembers... Anyway, whoever these two dudes were, they were seriously in love, and were taking a while to get around to it. But I'm pretty sure this portion had absolutely nothing to do with the main drama going on, so here we go again.)
(Here's where I go back and redream with new information in mind, or at least a different filter on.)
Sam's 2nd POV: There are angels in the room when he and Castiel come bursting through the doors, but only one of them notices their arrival. The others are caught up in this information-trance, or telepathy coma, or something. When Castiel stuffs Sam under the pews, it's to perfectly coincide with the oh-so-innocent stretching of the aware angel's wings; they cover Sam completely, hiding him both from view, and protecting him from the WoG when it arrives. The other angels wander back to conciousness, doing their demon knock-off thing about drinking blood, and raising the Great One, and sacrifices, et cetera. The angel protecting Sam is a spy for the Side of Good (tm). Here, my mind takes a grotesque turn toward the heterosexual; the girl angel, trying to keep Sam from being detected, shifts around to cover him with her robe, and decides to get in a little action while she's at it. One long, messy snoggage moment. Admittedly, it was a really good kiss; I got it from Sam's POV, mostly, and things were just going well. But weird; since when do I voluntarily dream about girl/boy yuckiness?
Anyway. There's another odd detour in dreamland here, only sort of half connected. Something about some angel being imprisoned by other, worster, ones. Apparently my mind thinks that an angel's true form is something like Pepto Bismal. This sickly pink fluid that's a great deal larger than their human hosts, but has all sorts of cool powers; for instance, as long as all of it is touching at any given moment, the angel can teleport itself anywhere. However, cut off even a molecule from contact with the rest, and you're stuck. So this poor guy is trapped in this giant potato-masher thing; his pinkness is washing all over the place, and he can't gather it up all at once. The bad guy's Mwahahaha-ing with glee, and eventually the beleagures good guy loses conciousness, and awakens on a raft in the middle of the ocean. A quick calculation; no visible land anywhere, and statistics say that there are only islands around. (What? I dunno.) He's been resolidified, and chopped into big chunks of beef. No, really; his head is sitting atop a big mound of bloody, raw beef. The raft is very 50's comic book; logs lashed together, a little mast, a tiny white scrap of flag fluttering at the top... Weird randomness ensues; other angels come to his rescue, and he reads this sappy fantasy book about elves (the favourite book in the garrison; ask anybody), and feels rejuvinated.
Meanwhile, in the future: Castiel's gone a little insane. He's been wandering and raving in the world for about thirty years, waiting for Dean to appear, because he sent Dean thirty years in the future to save him from burning death and REALLY NEEDS HIM RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. To keep himself occupied, he's been systematically picking off the leaders of the evil angel movement. One big baddie is this enormous chick with metal tentacle arms (ah, the future, and the vessels it has), who holes up in a industrialized church on the edge of a radiated, half-deserted city. (I probably need to stop reading Requiem.) Castiel is (I kid you *not*) storming the place wearing no clothes, and carrying a fucking huge machine gun/shotgun thing. Which he can shoot with one hand, despite the catastrophic kickback, because he's just AWESOME like that. I don't think I will ever bleach my mind (although, why would I want to? It's just so *cool*) of this image: Castiel running across an empty field, junk swinging wildly, roaring at the top of his lungs, banging out shot after shot with this six-foot cowboy-brand monster gun. And suddenly, there are Sam and Dean, staring at him in horror (fully clothed, I note), and Castiel screeches to a halt, all crazy-eyed and reclothed (bah!) and starts babbling about everything that's going on. Dean's like "Woah, little fella, calm down," but Castiel's been all by himself for thirty years, fighting the good fight, and waiting for Dean, and he's so insane and half-human that he's was screaming and sweating like a pig and *naked*, so he basically does his, "Look at me, I've had the worst time of my life waiting for you, and it'll take too long to explain everything, but I love you more than anything, and my life's shit without you, and feel my heart, it's beating so fast." Well, he only actually said the last part (and there's this lovely, tension-rife moment with heart-to-hand touching), but the rest was implied. Sam's like "Wuh?" because last he remembers is his angel macking on him, and then just going, "All right, I'm sending you to wherever Dean is before the sitch gets any worse," and there he was, staring Castiel's swinging junk in the proverbial face.
That's basically the end of it, although I do recall Dean insisting they go back to the present (ah, Dean, ye of the little brain in regards to time-space and quantum mechanics...), and Castiel being like, "Okay, we just have to run backwards across this field, and every hundred feet we travel will take a decade of time off." (I'm so deadly serious, he said that, and I'm surprised he didn't add anything about 88mph.) So Dean and Sam and Castiel are running across this field, carrying the giant machine/shotgun, and the evil tentacle woman is roaring and chasing them... and that's when I decided to wake up. Well, customer number 3 called at 9:57, and I couldn't go back to sleep after. (FUCK YOU, MISTER DOUCHEBAG!)
But yeah, I'm feeling pretty good. That whole ridiculous dream was SO incredibly slashy, but not technically anymore so than the show itself. I mean, there was some innuendo, but of the, "Omg, you're my soulmate, I'd die for you," variety, not "Hey, stick your hand down my pants." Oh, wait... Never mind. It makes me happy, at any rate. Even my subconcious is a hardcore Dean/Cas shipper.
I have to go feed the dogs and get dressed and all that, because I'm going to see the new Terminator movie at one!!!! I'm so excited! All peppy for remakes and reimaginings now that Star Trek has made me go crazy in love again. Although Christian Bale is a card-carrying fucknugget, I do so adore the Terminator movies.
PEACE OUT, BITCHES!