I sure as hell wasn't brought back for the fun of it, and I'll tell you something. I haven't been disappointed yet.

Is the only sane person left that I know Bobby freakin' Singer? Seriously? Because I'm starting to feel like I'm stuck in some kind of screwed up, morbid Benny Hill comedy scene. Or one of those Scooby Doo chases where everyone keeps missing each other by a fraction of a second and running into doors and somebody's disguised as the monster but it's really just some confused, innocent guy who really needs your help.

Anyone here a psychiatrist?

Anyone ever...

Are there people out there I could talk to who've been addicts before? I don't care what kind, and trust me, I can believe a lot of unbelievable crap.

[ there is the sound of a scuffle in the background, the tenor pitch of Jamie Madrox' voice with tired, gravelly notes-- registering behind a lot of sobbing, and then the same voice, nearly the same voice, which sounds almost feverishly morose. ]

He doesn't even care anymore! He doesn't love me for me, I just represent some bullshit goal for him or something! It's like I'm still dead in his heart, he's all just using me for an excuse. They're all really doing that in the end, aren't they? Does anyone want me around just because they missed me? Just for me?

[ seconds later, there is the noise of a struggle, and then breaking glass, followed by a harsh, mocking shouting. ]

You totally deserved that you crying, pissant little dicklick. Wanna cry some more about how nobody loves you?


[ooc: bodyswitched with jamie madrox. there are now...three jamies, rather, three deans. dean, crybaby dupe, and violent anger-boy dupe. oops.]

So Jo's gone. Bobby already said, but eh. I like seeing her face around more than I, but I'm even happier she's home where she can live her actual life. It's a shit life to be living, but at least she still is. Not stuck here anymore. This isn't a real life for most people, just waiting. Like limbo but with a sick sense of humor.

Anna showed up. Not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, no offense Anna. All this timeline bullcrap is making me really start to hate Einstein. Anyway, right, Anna Milton. I see any one of you pigs out there putting the moves on her I will find you and break your faces for very important reasons.

Cas what are

Superior soft drink: Coke or Pepsi?


[ooc: brb in fifteen! surprise shower. ]

FILTERED FROM SAM WINCHESTER + RUBY + BOBBY SINGER;

How do you treat severe anemia in an adult male in otherwise average health?

/FILTER

You ever wake up in the morning and your first thought is Jesus Christ why'd I wake up this morning and who hit me with the golf cart?

I'm bored and cranky. Let's have a poll for fun and education.

PIE: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE KIND?

This is a very scientific study so I won't be taking answers like 'all pie ever' or 'either apple or cherry' or 'MoonPie' or 'hair pie.' Pick one. Commit, you heathens.

BLUBERRY: 1

MEAT: 1

PUMPKIN: 2

APPLE: 2

CHERRY: 1


[ooc: Castiel has been teaching Dean forms of divine magic which Dean can learn. This involves a lot of human blood. Dean's human blood. I mostly make this note for the sake of any castmates who would notice + Henry-mun and Tony-mun and any other sensitives/etc Dean knows, if they would also notice. There has been probably been some significant blood-letting lately as he tried things out more seriously on his own due to the curse.]

You ever started to get the feeling that your life is a joke? Not just any joke, but a very specific joke on you made to make you feel like you're nothing but a giant tool and people suck and you can't trust anybody to tell you the truth so you may as well get really drunk and listen to Kashmir on repeat all night because it'll be just as constructive as anything else you've done this month?

It's starting to get like that.

Someone needs to call Chuck up and tell him he's glad he got fired before his stupid book series could jump the big fat shark.

And no, I never stop whining. A preemptive fuck you too, buddy.

And fuck you, Ruby. And you, Bela.

And fuck the guy who invented those whisks that double as tongs because they don't work like they're supposed to.



[ooc: fff Sam came back from his update and Dean got the third brother bomb dropped on him.]

That's disgusting. YES, it's disgusting. What the hell are you? He's my brother, I wouldn't ever even think about-- I'm gonna barf. I never wanted to hear the word 'slash' again in my fucking life, once was enough, thanks.

[some indiscernable mumbling.]

What?

[more pitched noise.]

No, I won't sign the cover of your book. That doesn't even look like me. God, rent a real life. Excuse you. Wha-- seriously? Okay. Okay, fine, I'll sign. You got a pen?

Oh, shiny silver markerpen. I like.

[the voice giggles, before asking what must be another question.]

No, I don't read Twatlight. Get out of my face, I'm in a bad mood this stinking weekend.

Now get your face out of my face, I got a kid to find! And that goes for all the rest of you, too. You heard me, now git.



[ooc: jaded winchester is recently jaded about the fourth walling. open for anything. ♥]

I quit. I'm giving up gambling*. Never again. I'm serious.

And I have no damn cash left anywhere on my body or in my mattress or laying in the couch cushions so if someone looking for a charity case would be so kind as to buy me a burger until payday? That'd be awesome.

*This doesn't mean I'm giving up playing. Just not for money. End of story.

Does anyone here know how to make pie crust?

I am not self-destructing.


private to sam winchester;

Are we talking? What are we?


[ooc: as a forewarning, Dean will be cursed after midnight tonight. at that point, his conversation with Sam will be publicly viewable, although he won't realize it (whether or not Sam does is up to Sam's player).]

[The camera, slightly off-centered, shows Dean Winchester in the small, bare-bones chapel of the hospital. It's dimly lit, and he's muttering something not meant to be private but also not meant to be overheard, eyes faced upward.

After he's finished, he moves back to the fabric bench, one of four small ones in a row-- makeshift pews --that the camera lens is seated on. Throwing himself into a seat with one leg hooked over the edge of the bench, he lifts the lens his face and gives a cynical eye to the little black hole of the camera on the phone-like device.]

I don't think it's like hope after all, Cas. You know what I think it's like? Patience.

'Cause mine keeps on being tried.


[ooc: for entry number forty. dean is talking about faith. half the (human) people he knows are in and out of the hospital for whatever reason at the moment. action or network.]