#free round

[canthaveshitingotham-crucified]

heartwarming: this ceo saw his employee was having a day so he let her go to war during a tornado

[bloodyoceanmary]

Multifandom Graphics Challenge | essenceodeanwinchester ↳ Prompt: Marvel (Daredevil)

[mystlnewsonline]

SHANGHAI  | Kim leads LPGA Shanghai by 1 stroke after 2 rounds

SHANGHAI  | Kim leads LPGA Shanghai by 1 stroke after 2 rounds

SHANGHAI  — Sei Young Kim led the LPGA Shanghai by one stroke at the halfway point after shooting a 5-under-par 67 in the second round on Friday.

Kim made six birdies, including four straight from the sixth hole, to move to a 10-under 134 total. Her only setback was a bogey on the par-4 15th.

Danielle Kang (68) and overnight leader Ariya Jutanugarn (69) were one shot back.

Brittany Altomare had…

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[boopedbyanangel]

From Black and Blue

SPN Writing Challenge | boopedbyanangel prompt:  free rounnd pairings:  mentioned Dean Winchester/Castiel, mentioned Sam Winchester/Gabriel word count: 334 tags: poetry, drabble, tw: child abuse, John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Gabriel, au: John Winchester’s A+ parenting

From black and blue, should black and white

Be taught; it’s tragedy from might

And power holding back what’s true.

No good can come from that dark hue

And kills what should remain in light.

 When soldiers lips are sewn up tight,

And peace gives way to stand and fight,

The casualties will not be few

             From black and blue.

 Children are blessed with truer sight

And souls much closer to what’s right

That we break down as if on cue

In trenches, homes, and even pews.

Little soldiers kill their love in fright

             From black and blue.

 He had to—had to!  It was the only way to make them safe. This was the last bite of conscience John Winchester felt as he set out to crush whatever kindness he’d see in his sons’ eyes. Maybe the fault didn’t rest solely on him. Such things had a tendency to breed over generations, but that mattered little to Gabriel. It still felt good to throw him into that wall. Of course, John never actually got close to the object of Gabriel’s primary concern—Sam Winchester. That was only because of Dean’s uncanny soldier/brother ability and willingness to throw himself in between his father and brother every single time and John’s laziness when it came to issuing a second beating or perhaps his trust (however misplaced) that his older son wouldn’t fail to pass on his outstanding fatherly lesson to his younger brother. Nevertheless, Dean was Castiel’s responsibility; and, like Dean, Gabriel loved his baby brother. And this, Castiel knew; so, content to let Gabriel, archangel of justice, ultimately deal with John—because Hell never teaches the right lessons anyhow—Cas spirited off to find Dean. Then, in a flutter of wings, Gabriel hopped backwards in time to try to find the spot from which he could ameliorate the most damage. I’ll be there soon, Sammy; and green and hazel eyes won’t see nearly so many hues of black and blue.

A/N: This didn’t end up where I wanted. Sorry.

[cr-noble-writes]

Bad Company

Part 1 of I Fought the Law

Inspired by the song Bad Company by Bad Company

Characters: Detective Dean Smith, Castiel Novak, Reader insert

Relationships: Dean x Reader, Dean x Castiel

Warnings: Blood and Bodies (there is a crime scene description), implied smut after the fact

Word Count: 1369

A/N: Detective!Dean AU. This is my first foray into the world of alternate universes, I’m pretty excited! This is also my entry into the June SPN Writing Challenge Free Round. Feedback is awesome!

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee!

A big thank you to @onceuponthesuperwalkingwholock for the beta and making sure this doesn’t suck!

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Tagging: @spnwritingchallenge@aprofoundbondwithdean @d-s-winchester @grumpy-kittycas @spnfanficpond @britney8793

GIFs are not mine!

Detective Dean Smith of the Kansas State Police Department was not a morning person. So, when the Captain dropped a file the size of a grocery store novel on his desk before he’d even made it halfway through his first cup of coffee, he groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Captain,” he said, his coffee mug raised halfway to his lips. The Captain raised an eyebrow at him. “You couldn’t have waited until I was here for longer than thirty seconds?”

“We’ve got bodies, Smith.” The Captain pointed at the file. “This is a big one. Take a peek at the file and then get your ass to the crime scene.” He turned on his heel and stalked away from Dean’s desk.

“They ain’t gonna be any less dead after I finish my coffee,” Dean grumbled under his breath and took a gulp from his mug. He cocked his head to one side and then the other, trying to relieve some of the tension in his neck. He probably wouldn’t have felt quite as bad if he hadn’t spent half the night at a bar, but when he remembered the smoking hot girl he’d gone home with, he smirked and thought, totally worth it.

He sighed and opened the file. After a few minutes of flipping through the documents, his coffee sat forgotten on his desk and he was wide awake. The Captain had not been exaggerating. Four decapitated corpses right here in Lawrence, with a string of similar murders all over the state. Only one suspect was listed, Y/N Winchester. The name struck Dean as familiar, but as he went through the pages of her criminal record, he couldn’t figure out why. There was a laundry list of charges that had been filed against Winchester and either subsequently dropped or she’d somehow escaped from custody. Credit Card Fraud, Assault, Petty Theft, and Grand Theft Auto were among them. He’d never seen such a long record on a girl her age. Somehow, there didn’t seem to be any pictures of her from any of the arrests, but he started flipping through eyewitness statements from some of her previous crimes and found a description.

She was roughly Y/H, with Y/H/C and Y/E/C, which of course described half the women in Kansas, but Dean soon came across a statement that said she had two tattoos, one on the inside of each forearm. One the left forearm, he read, she had a pentagram that was outlined by what looked like sun rays. The one on the right forearm was, as the witness had stated, “some weird looking symbols with a circle around them.”

As he read the descriptions of the tattoos, Dean paled visibly as the blood drained from his face. He knew those markings, he’d seen them before. Now he remembered where he knew the name Y/N from.

“Those are interesting tattoos,” he said, after taking your shirt off. His fingers were roaming across your body and he was placing sloppy, open-mouth kisses on your neck as you unbuttoned his shirt.

“They’re kind of a family heirloom,” you said. “The pentagram is supposed to protect people from demonic possession. The other is an Enochian Angel Banishment Sigil, but it supposedly only works if it’s drawn in blood. My parents studied the occult.” You were silenced by Dean’s mouth against yours after that.

Dean got up and grabbed his jacket, leaving the file abandoned on his desk and racing out to his car. The 67 Impala roared to life and Dean sped off in the direction of the motel you had taken him to last night.

You were driving down the highway on your way to investigate a possible djinn in Kansas City. Classic rock streamed out of the speakers of your ’69 Ford Mustang. You were lucky to have gotten the hell out of Lawrence early and you knew it. When you took Dean Smith back to your motel, you’d had no idea he was a cop. You hadn’t found out until his badge had fallen out of his jacket as you’d slipped it off of his shoulders. You knew the police would have gotten wind of the bodies left after you killed those vampires, and you could only hope that no witnesses could place you there.

Typically the people you saved wouldn’t talk to the cops, but there was no telling what other people might say. It was how you’d been caught before, and if the Kansas State Police were good, they would find all the people you talked to for information. You couldn’t think about that right now, though. You were on the way to your next job and you needed to focus on that.

It’s not like you were actually a murderer, anyway. You saved people and you killed the things that were trying to hurt them. You’d been hunting as long as you could remember, practically since birth. Though it was hard sometimes, you wouldn’t trade your life for anything. So, you just kept driving toward your next destination and tried not to think about the handsome green-eyed cop from the night before.

“Fuck!” Dean exclaimed. You were gone without a trace, you hadn’t even booked the room with your real name. He got back in his car and drove over to the crime scene. The forensic team was already there when he arrived. It was a small abandoned warehouse, and as soon as Dean walked through the door, he knew there had been a struggle. Blood was  splattered everywhere. There were large holes in the walls, where it appeared someone had been thrown into them with significant force. Broken shelves littered the floor. This  crime scene was a mess.

The four decapitated bodies were strewn all over the warehouse. The decapitations were clean, the heads taken off in one swing.. Dean couldn’t tell what kind of weapon had been used, but it was sharp and to cut through all of that muscle and bone, it would have taken either a lot of strength or a lot of leverage. He looked up at the wall next to the body and saw a notch about a foot long. One of the crime scene techs was busy measuring it and taping an evidence marker up next to it.

“Any chance you might be able to tell me what kind of weapon was used based on that mark?” Dean asked the man, who turned to face him.

“Judging by the length, it was probably some kind of sword.” The dark haired, blue eyed man walked a few feet away, and stood like he was holding a sword. “The suspect swung the sword like this.” He swung his arms across his body. “There was so much force behind the swing that the victim was decapitated in one blow, and the momentum of the swing carried until the blade hit the wall, causing the notch.” He walked back over to the wall. “Based on my own personal weapons knowledge and the shape of the notch, it was probably a katana.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” Dean said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”

“Castiel Novak,” the blue eyed man said, “but pretty much everyone calls me Cas.”

“Thank you.” Dean shook the man’s hand and turned to walk away, but stopped short and turned back to Cas. “One more question.”

“Of course.” Cas replied, smiling.

“Would a woman, say about Y/H, and maybe Y/W be able to swing a katana with enough force to do this?”

“It is possible, but unlikely. She would have to be a master of swordsmanship and in excellent physical condition.” Dean nodded and walked away to search the rest of the warehouse. He found mostly nothing, but when he came across what had once been a supply closet, he got a gut feeling that he was missing something. He opened the door and There was a pile of bodies in the closet. All of them had been dead for much longer than the other four victims, but  not a single one had been decapitated. What the hell is going on here? He thought to himself as he called a crime scene tech over to process his new finding.