deercountry | i communicate with chords

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴀʟɪɴ' ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴꜱ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅʀɪᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴꜱᴀɴᴇ

[ Dean - new Dean, freshly woken from his cocoon from Hell Dean - can often be found at any number of the sleazy bars in Cellar Door, hunched over a drink that, thankfully, no longer makes him sick as fuck.

He sits at Earworm nursing a drink, ignoring most people around him unless you're a pretty brunette with long legs, and then maybe his attention will shift, his eyes will flicker up from where they stare, red rimmed, at a glass of half drunk 'whiskey', a twisted little smile on his face, more like his old endverse self than ever before.

Or, he's at Goat Turning, throwing dice, playing poker, or--

he's in the basement, in the cage, loosing all his fury and betrayal out on some poor fuck that ended up in the ring with him. Dare you approach after he's been in there, fists bloodied, wiping his battered face with a towel, cheeks and brow and clothing splattered and smeared with blood - both his greenish poison, and other kinds? ]

𝕒𝕚𝕟'𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙

(( ooc: cw; drug use. ))[ The Winchester cabin is fortunate to have soluble enough soil to grow decent(ish) crops - spices, flowers, things of that nature. Cas helped him harvest and plant things originally, some in the garden bed, some in the area around, and some in the greenhouse, but at this point, Dean thinks he's going to be on his own in keeping up with things.

That's fine. It's not like he isn't used to being the caregiver, caretaker, the only one who gives a damn, passionately, about anything. God knows it isn't Sam, and it sure doesn't seem to be Cas anymore.

If you happen to be around the cabin, it would be easy to find Dean out back, working in the garden, harvesting what he can for the coming months and setting aside enough to trade for other valuable food items, spending hours and hours and hours out there, breaking his back, because what good is he, if not useful at least in some capacity?

Alternatively, he is also hauling things into Willful Machine into a booth he'd set up sometime in October, before shit hit the fan. Might as well keep it, right? He can be found there, kicked back behind the booth where there are spices (rosemary, thyme, sage, etc) for trade, as well as some, um.

Well.

Marijuana, nice and perfectly dried out, fresh from the bush Cas no longer seems to need, all for sale to people only of age. Dean himself has his feet propped up on the stand, a bottle of booze on the ground by his chair and smoke curling from his lips as you approach. Howdy, neighbor. ]

𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝒶𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃

[ Turns out some of the mushrooms that dot the landscape are not fun to come across. Did you get paralyzed by a Floater and need someone to pull a tentacled shroom off? Are you on the verge of corruption or simply having a panic attack? Do you need to be calmed down by a crushed Weeper?

He is also a Hunter for hire - do you have a monster plaguing your garden? Need something unalived? Dean's your dude. ]

(( ooc: This is a short prompt where if you want Dean's help, it's available. Taking 3 of these. ]

･ﾟ 🎀 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒹 🎀 ﾟ･

(( ooc; got an idea? dm me or hit me up on plurk @ pincurls. ))

Edited 2021-11-09 21:44 (UTC)

[Sam's noticed some things are... off with Dean, on his reawakening. Sure, he's got that usual way about him — a little bossy, but with that usual sense of love and care that Sam's gotten used to, but he knows his brother well enough to sense when he's troubled. Dean's bothered, and so Sammy's bothered, and it's in his nature to poke the bear no matter how much it growls at him in their household. Whether it's Dad. Whether it's Dean.

So he skips school to find where Dean is. Ends up sneaking down into some grimy, smoky basement full of people bartering and fighting; Sam looks horribly out of place down there, shorter than most by at least a foot if not more, but he walks with focus and determination that makes him look more like a hunter's kid than some boy wandering into the lion's den.

Sam also doesn't hesitate to shove past one of the bigger guys in his way to jab his finger into Dean's shoulder. With a voice that hasn't bothered clamoring over puberty yet, he says darkly:]

Is this supposed to be your idea of a hobby?

Edited 2021-11-10 02:20 (UTC)

[ 'Off' is a good way to put it. He hasn't figured out how to sit Sammy down and talk to him about this, it's yet another disappointment he can add onto his docket, and another reason he's mad about the spell screwing up.

He misses who he was, who he'd become. Is that strange? Probably. Who would voluntarily miss the Bad End?

Dean, apparently.

And he takes out his frustration and anger on the poor sucker in the ring with him tonight and when he's done, his winnings in his pocket, wiping his knuckles and face with a dirty towel, he freezes when he hears the littles Winchester chastising him. ]

Sammy? What the hell are you doing here -- you shouldn't be here.

[He folds his arms over his chest, looking more than displeased.

He's got older Sam written all over him. The older Sam from before the end of the world, anyway.]

And where exactly should I be? Taking a test in some Trigonometry class?

Uh, yeah, Sammy. That's exactly where you should be.

[ He wipes his face a final time before tossing the towel aside and planting a firm hand on Sam's shoulder, forcibly moving them both towards the exit.

This is a basement, under a bar, Dean could strangle him. Didn't you want a normal childhood or something? Freakin' kids. ]

And you're supposed to be down in some dark basement, getting the shit beat out of you? Let me go!

[He jerks his shoulders out of Dean's grip, whirling back around.]

You suck at hiding when something's wrong as long as I can remember; something's bothering you, and you're handling it like crap. Tell me what's going on!

[Hey, Dean, remember when Sam was approaching fifteen and started getting more bold and confident in calling your shit out? Yeah, well, we're almost there. Sorry to break the news to you.]

[ Goddamn you're sassy tonight. ]

Excuse me, but I won that fight. [ As if that's really what matters here, but, you know. Give your brother a little bit of credit. ]

Sammy, I'm not discussing this with you in the middle of this damn bar. I'll tell you at home. Let's go.

[Sam glowers, but relents enough to start walking back out, bumping into the occasional fighter who gives him an annoyed Look. He doesn't particularly care if there's a big bad dude to run into; he's more concerned with this brother being in a bunch of fights for no good reason (and he knows it's not a good reason, thanks).]

Fine, but I'm not waiting until we're home; we're gonna talk on the way.

What's your problem? You've been off ever since you got out of that weird goo-cocoon.

You're so pushy.

[ It is so a good reason, kid. You're just too young to understand.

But at least they're on the way out of the club, this is absolutely no place for a fourteen year old.

Especially a feisty one. ]

If I buy you ice cream will you let it go?

[He glowers at him — as if to say "this son of a bitch".]

Do you think I'm five?

[Which is to say... no. No, he's not going to let it go.]

Would you prefer I ask the entire network what's going on with you?

Maybe get some advice on how to stop our siblings from getting into underground fistfights?

What do you even care, anyway? What do you care if I fight, win some rations? I might even bring home meat for a damn burger instead of mushrooms, I don't get why you're so bent outta shape.

[ He looks exasperated, because while he hasn't precisely been a joy to be around, older Sam is worse, so why's Dean getting all the shit, here?

(he knows why - he knows it's because he's wrong, things are off and wrong, because Cas is gone, fluttered off with barely a goodbye, and he's heartbroken and angry and unwilling to talk about it)

Kids. They're so damn nosy. ]

I think you're too damn smart for your own good.

... Because you're not just doing it to win things.

[He says it quietly, arms folded, eyes pointed down. He says just what Dean is thinking, a helpless sort of tone in his response:] You're running off to bars to drink and fight, Cas is — I don't even know where right now. And Sam's not right in the head; something's seriously wrong with him. Things are so screwed up, and I don't know what to do for any of you!

I can't believe you'd ask why I care.

Edited 2021-11-18 06:20 (UTC)

[ Maybe it's unfair of Dean to fling that accusation - of course Sammy cares, even when he's done his own thing and been happier away from his family in Cali, he still cared. And at this age, it's more prevalent than ever, and Dean feels like an asshole, and relents.

He sighs, guides them out of the damn club so they can hear each other, door swinging shut behind them. The night air is cool, crisp, winter on the horizon and it kicks Dean's survivalist instincts from the apocalypse into gear, automatically counting rations in his head before he swings his attention back. ]

You're right, I'm sorry. There...is some stuff going on. A lot. I just wasn't sure how to actually tell you any of it.

[Charlie's napping in the garden.

He's not... stealing anything, or doing anything at all, really. Literally, he's just. Sleeping. There's a big rat on his chest while he does it, but you get the burning impression that the rat is supposed to be there. Like they're buddies.

Alerted to the sound of someone new in the room, Charlie opens one eye and then stretches like a cat on the dirty floor.]

... Mmmmhey, dude!

Man, you guys know how to grow stuff, huh?

[ What the hell, Charlie.

Dean nearly jumps out of his skin when he finds Charlie curled up and asleep in his damn garden, right there in the damn dirt. He nearly drops the watering can, catching it at the last minute, glowering just a little. ]

Working on it. What're you doin sleeping out here?

Seriously? What better place is there to take a quick snooze, huh?

The grounds nice and coooold, there's nice-smelling plaaants, Danny the rat feels more relaaaaxed.

[The rat looks up at Dean, and says in Danny Devito's voice:

"And I appreciate youse for it."

And then he lays his head back down as Charlie cradles him and absently skritches his belly as he talks.]

Plus, I take some of the leaves for soup and stuff! Like those fancy chefs do!

[ Dean is starting to think maybe he's dreaming, or he drank something that was tainated, or ate a bad mushroom. A talking rat, Charlie asleep in his garden, it's just...

God, it's surreal. ]

There's some herbs in here, yeah. Rosemary, sage, thyme...which ones have you been taking?

[ Just so he knows. ]

[He considers the plants for a moment, as if he's... not 100% sure.

Then he plucks a leaf off one, pops it into his mouth, and chews until his face curdles from the taste.]

That one. Yep, yeah, that one there.

[The sage, that is. That's how you tell which is which, right?]

...Well. There's worse choices, I guess.

[ Eating sage raw is probably kind of gross, but who is he to judge? ]

I've got like...actual good inside if you're hungry. It's mushrooms so it's not gonna get any Michelin stars, but it's better than raw herbs.

[Oh, judge away, Dean. Nobody will blame you for judging Charlie Kelly.

But he also brightens up at that, and quickly hops up to his feet; Danny the rat goes flying and grumbles as he skitters off to do his own thing. Whatever that is.]

Dude, really?! I'm starving. You got any eggs? I've been seriously missing eggs.

[... Says the guy who was almost poisoned to death by eggs in Deerington.]

Actually, yeah. We do have some eggs.

[ Dean's low key surprised that Charlie actually wants them, but hey. He's willing to share - Charlie's a handy (if not kind of gross and squirrely) dude to have on your side, even if he's a biter. ]

Could make you an omelette.

[ Dean is a great cook, tyvm ]

Holy shit, yeah? Sounds awesome, man!

... It'll help build my energy back after I gave that robo-dude a bucket of my blood.

[Huh. Maybe that's why he looks a little pasty?

Anywho. Please, lead the way.]

You did...what?

[ Dean looks over his shoulder as he wipes his hands on his jeans and heads back towards the house, shaking his head and just...

continuing on. Charlie's gonna Charlie, no matter what. ]

Wanna drink?

You serious? That's not a serious question you gotta ask, right?

[He wanders after Dean, stopping only when he's distracted by whatever changes to the kitchen has been made since he's last intruded on it. What kinda cool stuff do you have sitting around? Ooo, is that a gun, bro? He's gonna play with the disassembled gun bits and bobs.]

Who doesn't wanna drink around here? They need to get with the program.

[ skldhjf

well the house is nicer, that's for damn sure. ]

Careful with that stuff. [ Dismantled guns: put them away. Note to self. ]

And that's true. Probably just the kids. All the adults seem like managed alcoholics.

Or unmanaged.

I'm always careful, bro.

[He absolutely is not. But it's at least dismantled! And not loaded!]

Besides, I know how to use a gun; we owned a gun at the bar once. It was super fun 'til my pal Dennis shot me in the head.

Mark me down for the managed alcoholic, FYI.

Yeah, you and I both are on the managed list.

[ Dean thinks he's probably more managed than Charlie, but. Mehhhh.

He sets a glass down in front of him - that rotgut will go fabulously with eggs - before turning back to the kitchen where he's gonna start them some delicious omelettes. Fuck yeah, eggs. ]

You got shot in the head?

[He gives a nod. The most casual nod to such a question ever.]

Yeah man. Shot right in the dome while I was robbing our cash register. Or, well — it bounced off. [He demonstrates a bullet's trajectory with his finger, running it along the side of his head. There's still a faint scar hidden under that unruly hair, but it's pretty well hidden these days.] I guess I got a pretty thick, manly skull.

[ conversations with Charlie are always so...so weird. ]

You were robbing your cash register? I think I learn something new about you every time we talk.

Well — yeah! Yes, I was. But I had some stuff I had to pay back, and I was gonna put it back later! And I thought maybe I could get it paid back by making it look like we got robbed, so we could get, like. Robber's insurance or whatever.

[IT SEEMED LEGIT TO HIM????]

[Stiles came here for the usual food stuff and he's finding that bartering is a pain in the ass. Everything is mushrooms and he's a teenage boy with a bottomless pit for a stomach, he's standing at the nearby stall glaring down the vendor in frustration.]

Seriously, all I want… is a burger. You're busting my balls with these prices, man.

[The shop owner with what appears to be actual meat for sale makes an annoying buzz sound and starts locking up his goods 'I'm going on break, come back when you have something of value.' Stiles makes a rude gesture at his back and then turns to leave, but catches sight of Dean's stand. He pauses and then his brow furrows and he points with a flick of his wrist at the herb.]

…Dude, is that weed?

[ Dean knows the need for a burger - it's one of his favorite things, and getting one here is like wrangling a vampire down for a dental cleaning. It's damn near impossible. It's hard not to overhear the conversation and sympathize.

Still, he's not going to intervene, because he doesn't have a solution at the moment, but it's hard to ignore someone when they address you directly. ]

Yeah. [ Dean glances at it, then back up, lifts a shoulder in a shrug. No shame here. ]

[Stiles can respect that mentality. He frowns thoughtfully, looking at the bud and nods a bit.] Huh. Well, okay then.

[He leans his shoulder on a nearby post and crosses his arms.]

What's the market like for that stuff around here?

Hit or miss. Lotta kids, won't sell to them. Not really my style. But the adults, they're interested. Locals and Sleepers both.

[ It's a combination, really, and he does pretty well with it. It's not like it's illegal here or anything so he's not trading for some exorbitant markup, but it also isn't easy to grow, and he just so happens to have a very nice plant that can't die. ]

[Stiles looks around at the market to take in the different kinds of people there, a number of them show signs of corruption. Then a man that is clearly in the late stages of corruption and beginning stages of beasthood stumbles by with a cloak covering his head, trying to hide the symptoms.]

Gee, I wonder why. [He turns back to Dean and his weed.] Pretty impressive you can grow that here.

[ He snorts a little, shaking his head. ]

Yeah. There's certainly a market for it. Calm all...that down, maybe.

It's a trade secret. [ aka a burning pot bush Cas asked for and now no longer has much interest in, so it's been confiscated for profit. And frankly -- why not? Everyone's gotta eat; Dean's got a fourteen year old and a moose to feed. ]

… You think it helps?

[That's a sincere question. He's read a lot about corruption and beasthood in the archives and has noticed it affecting people he's gotten to know. And is concerned about it affecting himself. Then he snorts.]

Impressive business acumen for a drug dealer. [It's not a criticism, just a statement of fact as he sees it.]

I think it does, for some people. It's not a fix all for everyone, but it helps a lot with anxiety, helps calm people down.

[ Dean has to laugh at that, because of all his secret hopes and dreams as a kid growing up and into his teens and adulthood, being a freakin' drug dealer was not one of them.

And here he is. ]

Thanks. I like to think I'm providing a service.

[Stiles compulsively bites the inside of his cheek when Dean mentions anxiety, and nods with a bit of s drifting thoughtfulness.]

Yeah, I bet it does… sooo what'll you trade for it?

[A bit of a crooked smirk and he splays his hands, trying to cover up that he's seventeen. He hardly considers himself a kid, but he has no idea what Dean considers to be a 'kid' either.]

I'm an anxious customer in need of a respectable drug dealer's services.

[ Dean squints at him, arms folded, giving him a once over. He's not exactly in the market to give drugs to kids, but he was also not a kid by the time he was ten. He was handed a beer before he'd even hit double digits, taught to shoot a gun at the age of six.

Still. ]

How old are you?

[Well, shit. Damn his beautiful big doe eyes, he'll forever maintain they're his best feature and his greatest curse since they make him look so youthful. He heaves a breath and decides to just hope Dean isn't weird about it.]

Seventeen. But if it helps untwist any bunches that may or may not be forming in your tighty whities right now, I'll be eighteen in April.

[ Well, that's pretty soon. And Dean grew up way before seventeen anyway, so circumstances possibly dictate a similar situation with this kid. ]

Okay, well. Close enough for me. What've you got?

[Well, that sure is a question. Man, he hates the barter system here because he has to think about that. He does't really have much in general, but he supposes the best question is what does Dean value.]

Well, what do you want? I'm a resourceful guy with plenty of skills.

Edited 2022-01-30 07:10 (UTC)

[Maul's been keeping an eye on this one. After all, they have an understanding, and it'll be easier for Maul to hold up his end of the bargain if he's got a better idea of how the Winchester man operates. So when Maul arrives at the cabin, he leaps up to the rooftop, walking along it as easily as another man might walk along the edge of a curb rather than on the sidewalk.

The voice Dean first hears will be coming from above him.]

I didn't picture you feeling a call to agriculture.

[Then he leaps down about ten feet away from Dean. Is he being an ass and trying to get a reaction? You betcha. Maul is terrible like that.]

[ Dean nearly jumps out of his skin when Maul speaks, nearly dropping the handful of weeds he's pulled out of the ground to keep the raised garden beds happy and free from strangling vines. ]

Jesus, dude.

[ He perks a little though, because it's still awesome to see Star Wars dudes in the flesh. ]

Everyone's gotta have a hobby.

[Maul’s a pure troll sometimes and seeing the reaction from Dean is enough to have made this entire endeavor worthwhile. Maul just loves attention that way, whether it be good or bad directed towards his way.

He glances around at the vegetables.]

Hmmm, yes, I suppose so. I read quite a bit and it seems you enjoy growing food meant for rabbits.

[At least Maul has a justification for why he finds vegetables less than palatable, given he was a carnivore by species.]

i communicate with chords

dean winchester | supernatural - open prompts, see ooc info in each if applicable

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴀʟɪɴ' ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴꜱ

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The Winchester Cabin | i'm double-teaming you bro

give it to me baby

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u saw nothin

no never not me

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willful machine

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𝕒𝕚𝕟'𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣

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