Ame3Kamishiro

            For the millionth time in an hour, you tell yourself that you have got to stop buying things that will give Dean too much power. Typically, the objects in question start out as entertaining to you and childish to him, but by the end of the day the tables will have turned, and he’ll be abusing the aggravation the object brings you for his own amusement.            Cursing Dean’s name, you pull out a small, pink rubber duck from under your pillow and fling it across the motel room. It strikes the wall and squeaks briefly before falling to the ground. With a groan, you pull the blankets up over your head and try to forg

Jackspeticeye x Male!Reader x Markiplier- Try again (A/N: I'm not even attempting Jack's accent, so you guys can imagine it or something. It's just too much editing. And please read the description afterwards) The dark clouds seemed to be crying with you as you stood over your mother's grave, confessing everything to the headstone as you got soaked to the bone. "Mom, I wonder what it's like up there. Is it like they say in books and movies? Or is it something totally different?" You now sat next to the headstone, your head resting on it as if it were your mother's shoulder. You held the umbrella over her, which had resulted in your getting

 "(Y/N)! There's my favorite human," Izaya said, "You're different from everyone else. I like those those cute little ears that are always sitting on the top of your head." "What do you want, Izaya?" you asked. "Who? You mean me?" Izaya asked, pretending to be shocked. "Yes, you!" you said, "You're always asking me to be a part of some stupid scheme of your, which almost gets you killed by Shizuo and I get hit with a vending machine from time to time." "No, (Y/N)-kun, not this time," Izaya said, "I just wanted to know if you'd want to come with me to the Russian Sushi restaurant, that's all. I promise." Using your tail, you grabbed h

 You sat there on the couch, your favorite pillow clutched in your hands as you sat on the edge of your seat. The rest of the room was dark except for the bright flashing television screen. You whimpered as you gingerly clicked for the next episode of Supernatural to play. To your left was your phone, lying silent on the couch, and to your right, on the side-table was your large can of salt. You had been watching this show for 5 straight hours on Netflix and there was no way you were going to be without this life-saving salt tonight. “No! You idiot! Rule number one of demons, you don't go and investigate! You get the salt! Make some h

(A/N: I decide to bring Sherlock, Doctor Who, and Supernatural together into one chatroom. Oh, and it's the 10th Doctor :)) (y/n) has logged on. (y/n) has started a chatroom. Sherlock has logged on. John has logged on. The Doctor has logged on. Sam has logged on. Dean has logged on. Castiel has logged on. The Writer has logged on. The Writer: You're probably wondering what you're doing here. Sherlock: Please, I don't wonder; I know everythi-- John: *punches Sherlock in the shoulder* John: Not now, Sherlock. Sherlock: ...ow Dean: Who the hell are you people?! The Writer: Here, I know all of you, so I can explain. Dean: psh yea

The night was dark, little to no light reflecting off the moon and into your bedroom. The only light illuminating the room at all was what was coming from your laptop screen. You were waiting. The dark pit in your stomach only grew as you looked around, eyes scanning in the darkness but not seeing anything. You weren't expecting anything yet somehow it still was shocking and saddening at the same time. You are alone. You knew that. No one shared the home with you so why wouldn't you be alone? Once again the phone at your side lit up, showing a new text. 'hey, you ok?' You ignored it. Dean worried about you, both of the Winchesters did, b