The Law - Cheryl/Sam

(starter for @pre-series-samwinchester)

“Class dismissed.”  Cheryl Kingsbury sighed as her law students got up from their desks and filed out of the classroom.  She was secretly glad that the semester was almost done; the college would be shut down and mercifully quiet.

“Oh, one second, uh….Sam,” she added, holding up a hand to call over one of her taller, more handsome students.  “I got your paper graded.  It’s brilliant,” she added, holding a sheaf of papers out to him with a bright smile.

Sam smiled sheepishly and took the papers, briefly flipping through them. “Really? I felt like I added too many references and the flow of some paragraphs seemed janky.” he explained as he subtly looked Cheryl over and hid a blush.

Active Status: Partially active

So I would love to be on here more often , I really would, but I have been so busy with my job as a retail worker, content creator, streamer and performer that time is almost nonexistent for me to find time here. I will still be active but don’t expect much. You can always leave asks/memes for Tom but I feel like it’s only fair to be transparent about my reasons for my long absences

Adding for Sammy as well

“Are you telling me that you’re not scared of ghosts, vampires, or werewolves, and yet you’re scared of clowns?”  @pre-series-samwinchester​

“Because Cher, clows are real people and no one usually suspects a clown.”

Changing of Seasons(closed to @rocksaltwhiskeyandbulletholes)

“C’mon De! We’re going to be late for the Ceremony!” a soft voice tittered and a young boy with bright hazel eyes and a crown perched on his head tugged at the older boy’s hand impatiently. As one of the crowned Princes of the Summer Court, Sammy knew that it was rude to arrive late to any social gatherings, something he always argued with his big brother Dean.

The smaller faerie let out a huff and plopped on his bed, an elaborate Lily of the Valley, and crossed his arms with a pout. “C’mon Deeee. I want to be there when the nectar is served fresh!”

Dean hates summer. It’s too hot an’ these gatherings always have so many fae that he’s expected ta talk to an’ be polite to. He glowers at his younger brother. “Why do we always hafta go to these things? The Fall bonfire’s a lot more fun!”

Dean’s own bed which he’s lying on, is an enormous sunflower and situated across the room from his brother’s. Jade eyes narrow as the older crown prince glances toward the bay window at the end of the room, which overlooks the sloping lawn. “Can’t we jus’ go swimming or something?” @pre-series-samwinchester

“As royals, it’s only right to follow our duties to eventually take over the Court. It would not do to make Queen Titania upset after all.” Sammy pointed out as he stroked a bee that was hovering outside their window before hopping off his bed and handed Dean his crown. “Dad’ll wonder where we are Dean. The Midsummer Festival is one of the most important days for not only us but the mortals as well.”

“Well I hate pollen an’ heat.” His little brother’s right though and the Prince rolls off his bed, tugging on his shoes and placing the golden circlet atop his head.

He’s wearing a smooth, short-sleeved velvet doublet the color of an evening sky and light grey pants which end just above his ankles. Fawn colored shoes tipped in lilac round out the ensemble.

“C’mon Sammy. Let’s go,” he says, extending a hand to his sibling.

Sammy grinned and took his big brother’s hand and flitted up after him, rambling about the festivities and how the grasshoppers were going to be out with the beetles, leaving behind small bursts of warmth with every flower he landed on playfully.

Changing of Seasons(closed to @rocksaltwhiskeyandbulletholes)

“C’mon De! We’re going to be late for the Ceremony!” a soft voice tittered and a young boy with bright hazel eyes and a crown perched on his head tugged at the older boy’s hand impatiently. As one of the crowned Princes of the Summer Court, Sammy knew that it was rude to arrive late to any social gatherings, something he always argued with his big brother Dean.

The smaller faerie let out a huff and plopped on his bed, an elaborate Lily of the Valley, and crossed his arms with a pout. “C’mon Deeee. I want to be there when the nectar is served fresh!”

Dean hates summer. It’s too hot an’ these gatherings always have so many fae that he’s expected ta talk to an’ be polite to. He glowers at his younger brother. “Why do we always hafta go to these things? The Fall bonfire’s a lot more fun!”

Dean’s own bed which he’s lying on, is an enormous sunflower and situated across the room from his brother’s. Jade eyes narrow as the older crown prince glances toward the bay window at the end of the room, which overlooks the sloping lawn. “Can’t we jus’ go swimming or something?” @pre-series-samwinchester

“As royals, it’s only right to follow our duties to eventually take over the Court. It would not do to make Queen Titania upset after all.” Sammy pointed out as he stroked a bee that was hovering outside their window before hopping off his bed and handed Dean his crown. “Dad’ll wonder where we are Dean. The Midsummer Festival is one of the most important days for not only us but the mortals as well.”

DON’T LET THIS HAPPEN TO CEREAL!!!

Listen in the past the poor have had to improvise cheap food the rich never wanted as a means to survive. And over the many years of innovation made the food taste good until eventually the rich where like: “Oh hay you actually like that garbage? Why on earth would you like it?” Then they try it, love it, start buying it, and then drive the price up so much it becomes a luxury good.

They do this and its devastating, the food typically never becomes affordable again. It don’t matter how cheap the foo dis to produce, it doesn’t matter if there is almost no meat on the bone or its super difficult to eat and messy. Once the poor discover how to make some bit of cheap food taste good, the rich take it away via driving the price of it up.

THEY DID THIS TO RIBS.

Ribs were garage meat. Just look at them, there is hardly any meat on the bone, you have to eat them by hand usually, and they are messy. They where an undesirable cheap source of junk meat. But the poor being the poor made them taste good. (Because they don’t have much to choose from.) The rich discovered the meals the poor made with them and decided they liked ribs too. People discovered they could sell a few ribs to rich people and make way more money then selling lots of ribs to poor people and the price was driven up.

DON’T LET THIS HAPPEN TO CEREAL!!!

They did the same to brisket.  You used to be able to get brisket for less than a dollar a pound, which meant you could get a twenty pound brisket fairly cheaply.  And then you smoked it, sliced it, and had meat for weeks if not a full month.  And it was tasty.  I grew up eating brisket at least once a month because my family could afford it.

It was a cheap meat because no rich person looks at the dangly part of the neck of a cow and goes ‘ooh, that looks tasty!’.

But then Food Network started showcasing things like barbecued brisket.  Rich people started showing up at places that weren’t just Rib Crib to get their barbeque.  And the price of brisket went up.  A lot.

I regularly see it for over five dollars a pound in stores now.  And while yeah, that might not seem like a lot when you’re talking only a pound or two of meat, brisket is normally sold in ten to twenty pound sizes.  It’s become completely unaffordable to the people that made it delicious.

Sushi used to be really cheap, too, until it became ‘trendy’.  Guess why you’re now paying twelve dollars for your order of California rolls?  Because rich people discovered something that poor people had been eating for ages.

Noticed the prices of fajita meat, chicken thighs, or ham hocks has gone up recently?  You guessed it.  Rich people are taking our food and now we’re scrambling to afford the things that we grew up eating.

Lobster is a perfect example of this phenomenon.  For hundreds of years, lobster was regarded as a sort of insect larvae from the depth of the sea. It had zero appeal as a “luxury food” until people living in NY and Boston developed a taste for it. Before the 19th century, it was considered a “poverty food” or used as fertilizer and bait - some household servants specified in employment agreements that they would not eat lobster more than twice a week. It was also commonly served at prisons, which tells you something about prison food.

Only by cleverly marketing lobster as an indulgence for the privileged made it cost so much. It became a vehicle for enormous profit spawning a multi-billion dollar global industry in the process. This mythical affection for lobster flesh - not its practical value in terms of taste, nutrition, or any other reasonable consideration - drives its value.

LMAO. Wait.

Anyone else’s eye twitchin?

Food gentrification is a long standing practice and it’s some of the most evil shit I can think of. It’s why I refuse for example as someone living in the US to buy things with Quinoa in them. It is specifically pricing an indigenous population out of their prime staple food. It’s a horrific invasion of one of the final requirements of staying alive.

Oysters were another too poor to be eaten food, they were almost a waste product of the river pearl industry and were sold in London as cheap as it got, in the winter months oysters were one of the main sources of protein in workhouses. Now they’re a “delicacy”

Same thing’s happened to bacon over the past 15, 20 years or so.

Doorways: Closed with @pre-series-samwinchester

There is a place, well beyond your rooms, where everything goes gray. A location you may have visited once or twice in that strange spot between waking and sleep, but you don’t, and won’t, remember it.

In fact, the only color here at all is the dim blinking of the whirling galaxies as they hurtle by unseeing and unwavering. It is here, in this place where the sound and the light go to die, that the curious and very determined, can find the doorway. It is not a normal door with a key, a lock, and then an entrance. But this portal, this passage, seals the gap between realities- of space and time with all the wiles they can possess.

Of course, like the three other doors which hide the way, this one is guarded, and watched over quite well. If you look around as you walk up, you won’t see them, not at first. If you are one of the few who can walk between (and really, you probably aren’t so don’t think you’re special) they’ll leave you alone. But, if you aren’t meant to cross and they’re hungry or just bored, then you’ll hear them, you’ll feel them, and their eyes will be the final thing you witness just before you die.

One of these so-called ‘guards’ had no discernible features but could take the very breath of an innocent at will and you might’ve seen them deep in the throes of a night terror, or even your bedroom lurking in the corner. Currently, said figure was perched on a knarled tree branch like some overgrown raven, yellow eyes fixated firmly on the door when it hears the familiar scuttle below it and grins, although one wouldn’t be able to tell. “About time you got back.”

There’s a hiss from below as its companion comes into view. This entity is large, much larger than the other. It is a ghastly bone white with eight legs each tipped in a claw. And fast. Very fast. Fear given form as the legs fade from white to grey to darkest ink. The spider fixes cold black eyes on the other guard and replies, “I had to escort the last of the Anshara over the threshold. They’ve begun breeding again and six of them have taken mates. We are required, as I’m sure you know, to ensure that this species makes the crossing unscathed. Besides,” it begins climbing the side of the doorway to the shadows above, “I was paid quite handsomely. Such a feast!” The words are hardly louder than the wind, but in the quiet they seem more audible. “What did you do while I was gone?”

It lounges on the branch and lets out a growl. “Had a... wayward soul stumble and had me a quick meal but other than that, nothing much. I’m bored here.” it complained and melted into a puddle and made its way to the other side of the doorway.

“And what am I supposed to do about that? It sounds much more like a you problem than something I’d bother with.” Truth be told, this entity is more than a little tired of their jujune existence too. It would be very interesting to see something beyond this place. “We could torture something. That always seems to amuse you.”

The creature let out a bone rattling moan. “It’s grown stale. What haven’t we done to a victim? I want.... I want to go to another realm.. just... just to take a peek. Who knows, we might find more snacks.”

Doorways: Closed with @pre-series-samwinchester

There is a place, well beyond your rooms, where everything goes gray. A location you may have visited once or twice in that strange spot between waking and sleep, but you don’t, and won’t, remember it.

In fact, the only color here at all is the dim blinking of the whirling galaxies as they hurtle by unseeing and unwavering. It is here, in this place where the sound and the light go to die, that the curious and very determined, can find the doorway. It is not a normal door with a key, a lock, and then an entrance. But this portal, this passage, seals the gap between realities- of space and time with all the wiles they can possess.

Of course, like the three other doors which hide the way, this one is guarded, and watched over quite well. If you look around as you walk up, you won’t see them, not at first. If you are one of the few who can walk between (and really, you probably aren’t so don’t think you’re special) they’ll leave you alone. But, if you aren’t meant to cross and they’re hungry or just bored, then you’ll hear them, you’ll feel them, and their eyes will be the final thing you witness just before you die.

One of these so-called ‘guards’ had no discernible features but could take the very breath of an innocent at will and you might’ve seen them deep in the throes of a night terror, or even your bedroom lurking in the corner. Currently, said figure was perched on a knarled tree branch like some overgrown raven, yellow eyes fixated firmly on the door when it hears the familiar scuttle below it and grins, although one wouldn’t be able to tell. “About time you got back.”

There’s a hiss from below as its companion comes into view. This entity is large, much larger than the other. It is a ghastly bone white with eight legs each tipped in a claw. And fast. Very fast. Fear given form as the legs fade from white to grey to darkest ink. The spider fixes cold black eyes on the other guard and replies, “I had to escort the last of the Anshara over the threshold. They’ve begun breeding again and six of them have taken mates. We are required, as I’m sure you know, to ensure that this species makes the crossing unscathed. Besides,” it begins climbing the side of the doorway to the shadows above, “I was paid quite handsomely. Such a feast!” The words are hardly louder than the wind, but in the quiet they seem more audible. “What did you do while I was gone?”

It lounges on the branch and lets out a growl. “Had a... wayward soul stumble and had me a quick meal but other than that, nothing much. I’m bored here.” it complained and melted into a puddle and made its way to the other side of the doorway.

Doorways: Closed with @pre-series-samwinchester

There is a place, well beyond your rooms, where everything goes gray. A location you may have visited once or twice in that strange spot between waking and sleep, but you don’t, and won’t, remember it.

In fact, the only color here at all is the dim blinking of the whirling galaxies as they hurtle by unseeing and unwavering. It is here, in this place where the sound and the light go to die, that the curious and very determined, can find the doorway. It is not a normal door with a key, a lock, and then an entrance. But this portal, this passage, seals the gap between realities- of space and time with all the wiles they can possess.

Of course, like the three other doors which hide the way, this one is guarded, and watched over quite well. If you look around as you walk up, you won’t see them, not at first. If you are one of the few who can walk between (and really, you probably aren’t so don’t think you’re special) they’ll leave you alone. But, if you aren’t meant to cross and they’re hungry or just bored, then you’ll hear them, you’ll feel them, and their eyes will be the final thing you witness just before you die.

One of these so-called ‘guards’ had no discernible features but could take the very breath of an innocent at will and you might’ve seen them deep in the throes of a night terror, or even your bedroom lurking in the corner. Currently, said figure was perched on a knarled tree branch like some overgrown raven, yellow eyes fixated firmly on the door when it hears the familiar scuttle below it and grins, although one wouldn’t be able to tell. “About time you got back.”

discovered by every1luvsmari07 on Instagram

Sammy nodded and pointed to each color separately. “Merry Christmas De! And it’s a snowstorm wit me an’ you and Dad!” he chirped happily.

(Missed you too!!)

“This’s cool Sammy. I love it! Should I open the present next?” He places the card carefully on the bedside table. “ ‘M gonna show this to Dad when he gets here.”

“Yes! It’s super cool! I made it all by myself!” Inside was a box with a weird contraption of glue, popsicle sticks and googly eyes.

Dean sets the item gently on the bed. “I bet. What’s it do?” The item is still a little sticky and he’s careful not to get glue on the ugly motel bedspread.

“It’s a w-wendigo chaser!! It’s supposed to help chase them away!” Sammy explained and beamed at his older brother.

“Super cool! Wanna see ‘f there’re any in the motel room? We should test it,” he says confidently.

Sammy nodded excitedly and rocked on his heels. “Maybe we can surprise Dad when he gets home by saying we cleared the room!”

“He’ll love that!! Why don’t’cha show me how it works,” Dean says, handing the creation back to Sammy.

Sammy took it back and“Okay. You hold it up and you chant this ‘Wendigo be gone. Your presence is not wanted. This house is protected by the Grace of God and you have no place’. I know Daddy wants me to learn L-Latin but it’s difficult.”

Dean repeats the words, but as he does, he notices that the mirror in the room gives an odd shudder. “Don’t worry Sammy. You’re gonna be real good at Latin. C’mon, let’s watch Thundercats.” He makes a mental note to tell his daddy about the mirror. “I think your spell worked.”

Sammy nodded and curled up in a blanket on the couch and waited for his big brother to join him, hazel eyes wide and filled with curiosity. “De, monster can’t get in...right?”

Dean turns on the TV and settles himself next to his brother. “Don’ worry Sammy. Daddy won’t let the monsters get near us. He’s a superhero- he’s Batman!” The door to the motel room opens some fifteen minutes later and their father walks in carrying a bag of food. “Hey boys.”

“Daddy!!! I made us a protectant against wendigos!! See it’s on the counter!!” Sammy chirped and pointed at the lump of glued together items. “Very good Sammy!! This looks really really cool. Hiw does it work?”

Sammy nodded and pointed to each color separately. “Merry Christmas De! And it’s a snowstorm wit me an’ you and Dad!” he chirped happily.

(Missed you too!!)

“This’s cool Sammy. I love it! Should I open the present next?” He places the card carefully on the bedside table. “ ‘M gonna show this to Dad when he gets here.”

“Yes! It’s super cool! I made it all by myself!” Inside was a box with a weird contraption of glue, popsicle sticks and googly eyes.

Dean sets the item gently on the bed. “I bet. What’s it do?” The item is still a little sticky and he’s careful not to get glue on the ugly motel bedspread.

“It’s a w-wendigo chaser!! It’s supposed to help chase them away!” Sammy explained and beamed at his older brother.

“Super cool! Wanna see ‘f there’re any in the motel room? We should test it,” he says confidently.

Sammy nodded excitedly and rocked on his heels. “Maybe we can surprise Dad when he gets home by saying we cleared the room!”

“He’ll love that!! Why don’t’cha show me how it works,” Dean says, handing the creation back to Sammy.

Sammy took it back and“Okay. You hold it up and you chant this ‘Wendigo be gone. Your presence is not wanted. This house is protected by the Grace of God and you have no place’. I know Daddy wants me to learn L-Latin but it’s difficult.”

Dean repeats the words, but as he does, he notices that the mirror in the room gives an odd shudder. “Don’t worry Sammy. You’re gonna be real good at Latin. C’mon, let’s watch Thundercats.” He makes a mental note to tell his daddy about the mirror. “I think your spell worked.”

Sammy nodded and curled up in a blanket on the couch and waited for his big brother to join him, hazel eyes wide and filled with curiosity. “De, monster can’t get in...right?”

Sammy nodded and pointed to each color separately. “Merry Christmas De! And it’s a snowstorm wit me an’ you and Dad!” he chirped happily.

(Missed you too!!)

“This’s cool Sammy. I love it! Should I open the present next?” He places the card carefully on the bedside table. “ ‘M gonna show this to Dad when he gets here.”

“Yes! It’s super cool! I made it all by myself!” Inside was a box with a weird contraption of glue, popsicle sticks and googly eyes.

Dean sets the item gently on the bed. “I bet. What’s it do?” The item is still a little sticky and he’s careful not to get glue on the ugly motel bedspread.

“It’s a w-wendigo chaser!! It’s supposed to help chase them away!” Sammy explained and beamed at his older brother.

“Super cool! Wanna see ‘f there’re any in the motel room? We should test it,” he says confidently.

Sammy nodded excitedly and rocked on his heels. “Maybe we can surprise Dad when he gets home by saying we cleared the room!”

“He’ll love that!! Why don’t’cha show me how it works,” Dean says, handing the creation back to Sammy.

Sammy took it back and“Okay. You hold it up and you chant this ‘Wendigo be gone. Your presence is not wanted. This house is protected by the Grace of God and you have no place’. I know Daddy wants me to learn L-Latin but it’s difficult.”

Sammy nodded and pointed to each color separately. “Merry Christmas De! And it’s a snowstorm wit me an’ you and Dad!” he chirped happily.

(Missed you too!!)

“This’s cool Sammy. I love it! Should I open the present next?” He places the card carefully on the bedside table. “ ‘M gonna show this to Dad when he gets here.”

“Yes! It’s super cool! I made it all by myself!” Inside was a box with a weird contraption of glue, popsicle sticks and googly eyes.

Dean sets the item gently on the bed. “I bet. What’s it do?” The item is still a little sticky and he’s careful not to get glue on the ugly motel bedspread.

“It’s a w-wendigo chaser!! It’s supposed to help chase them away!” Sammy explained and beamed at his older brother.

“Super cool! Wanna see ‘f there’re any in the motel room? We should test it,” he says confidently.

Sammy nodded excitedly and rocked on his heels. “Maybe we can surprise Dad when he gets home by saying we cleared the room!”