inbox;

[ruinously]

// nightmoves

TEXT • AUDIO • VIDEO

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special delivery

[bossily]

[On the evening of the 24th, Clara leaves a wrapped gift outside Dean's door. There's a label with his name on it so he'll know it's for him. Inside the box are some sweets she's made, a page of shiny foil gold star stickers, and this charming cross stitch to hang for motivation.

There's also a note, of course.

Dean,
Take care with the gold stars. They're the last I have of stickers I acquired on a mission, and they're special to me. But I think you could use them whenever you're feeling low. Pop on a gold star and be your best self. I've heard thinking like that works wonders.

Happy Christmas.

- Clara]

voice; un: mccoy

[homeostatic]

Thanks for the cupcakes, I don't think they lasted the weekend.

( He's getting you something good next mission, he'll just...figure that out then... )

Got a favor to ask you.

voice - un: nightmoves

[ruinously]

They never do.

Sure -- what's up?

text; un: majortom

[winscenario]

Hey. Busy?

[ He could pretend to only be checking up on Dean (which he also is, he noticed how Dean wasn't taking the mission all too well), but he vastly prefers being direct about all the reasons he's getting in touch. ]

[ruinously]

[ this reads suspiciously like a ‘u up?’ message ]

nah. What’s up?

audio; un: s.wilson

[unclesam]

[ That's a voice Dean's not heard in a hot second. Or three months - who's counting? Ever since their very impressive aerial encounter in a magic castle, anyway. Someone's been a little comatose, and didn't exactly have the capacity to check in on everyone he knows after waking up. ]

Was a bit disappointed you ain't here for me to catch in any of the rooms that feature impossible cliffs. You hanging in there?

[ruinously]

[ THREE MONTHS MAN he was worried about you, you metal winged angel, shit ]

Funny. You're very funny, you know. [ wry. ]

Yeah, I'm doin' alright. This is beans compared to the real hell.

text. un: barnes.

[starer]

[The message comes in the middle of the night. The second since their return.]

so how much of that's like the heaven/hell crap from your world?

text - un; nightmoves

[ruinously]

Not that similar. I can't speak to heaven [ yet ] but I know for a fact hell isn't anything like that.

action;

[calmness]

[ true to his word, it is not long before xichen is standing at the door to dean's room. he lifts his hand to knock, carefully. ] Dean? It is Xichen.

[ it is strange to know that the other man is in his own room. before they had left for the last mission and following it, xichen had visited him in the infirmary to play. he wonders if it did anything, if the calming tones of 'clarity' eased his sleep.

unlikely, if he returned home and lived a different life in his sleep. ]

Re: action;

[ruinously]

C'mon in.

[ The door isn't locked, and Dean's kicked up on his bed, ankles crossed, bottle resting against his leg. ]

Got some liquor with your name on it.

text. » un: rhysand

[business]

Hey, hey. 🧚‍♀️
Random question.
Human liquor. Yay or nay on the possibility of it doing something horrendous to my body? I can't see a list of ingredients on here, but if ash wood is regularly involved in the distilling process, I would like for you to remember me fondly. And as a great good time.

lmfao RHYS

[ruinously]

oh, it'll definitely do horrible things to your body but as far as I'm aware, no ash wood is involved.

it's mostly grains. sometimes potatoes. sugar.

how you been, mr. good time?

[farr]

[ one morning on the station, on each orber's door, the following hand-written note (in fancy calligraphy) will be taped:


the orber can choose to attend or simply listen in to the meeting when it occurs, or they may ignore it altogether. ]

[farr]

[ yet another flyer ends up on every orber's door, evidently by the same culprit as last time, except now it's a more colorful display:


the back of the flyer features more details about the play and its characters, and soon enough, an announcement from rita herself goes public, giving more context about the event, which all can sign up for. ]

action

[foolintherain]

(from here)

[ You should know by now that, of course, Castiel just appears behind Dean in the locker room as soon as that text with his location is sent, because he has no sense of human decency instilled in his no-thoughts-head-empty multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. ]

[ruinously]

[ way to catch him with his pants down, Cas.

Literally.

He's mid change, pants down around his ankles when Cas shows up, fluttering in on a breeze that makes Dean hair stand up and a yelp bubble up. The whole town is full of spooky shit and jumpscares and Cas sends him stumbling, over the bench and on his ass, one foot sticking up, little red shorts dangling from a toe. ]

Godammit, Cas!

text un: goodvibes

[aurable]

dean how close are you to the man road

driving down there now i think ziggy's been hurt and need someone to shoot out of a moving vehicle if need be

[ruinously]

[ that's a whole lotta wtf ]

not far, can be by the road in 2 minutes. always available to shoot some shit.

how hurt is hurt? i need my first aid kid?

11/23 or thereabouts; text > action

[foolintherain]

[ Right after this, as Castiel's earpiece reconnects to the network, Dean's inbox is flooded with a series of texts:

Dean? Where are you?
Dean?
Dean, can you hear this?
I think we've been separated.
This island is... inhospitable, but the others who were sent here are very capable.
I'm hot. I'm very sweaty and somehow also very dry, and uncomfortable in unimaginable ways.
I hate this.
I hope you're alright.
I
We're almost there. The orb's within reach. We'll be back to the station soon.
Dean, if you can hear this somehow, I just want you to know that, wherever you are, I'll find you. I'll make sure you get home to Sam and Lisa. You have my word.

And then, after a few seconds and "..."s later, again:

Dean? Where are you?

At the same time as it's being sent, Castiel appears in their shared room with a flutter of wind, out of breath and with a five o'clock shadow, looking and smelling, frankly, disgusting. He looks around frantically. ]

Dean?

[ruinously]

[ holy shit. his device goes absolutely batshit the second Cas flutters back onto the station - and to be honest, his device is doing much the same, with nearly identical texts. Where are you, are you alright, what's going on, are you okay, what happened, Viv won't beam me down Scotty, etc.

But luckily - the second the device goes bananas, Cas flaps back in like a bat, and smelling not a whole lot different. ]

Cas!

[ Dean's heart is somewhere in the bowels of the station when Cas appears, because it never fails to scare the shit out of him when he shows up like that. The sight of him, the stench, it does nothing to deter Dean - he staggers to his feet and gropes for the lapels of Cas' coat and yanks him into a tight, desperate hug. ]

Where the hell have you been!

[ present ]

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton leaves Dean's gift in a squat, decorated bag next to his room's door - a bottle of expensive-looking aged bourbon delicately wrapped in red tissue paper and dusted ever so slightly with silver glitter, likely from being in contact with some other present. The brand almost certainly isn't one that Dean is familiar with, being one that Clayton knows from his version of Earth, but its taste is just as smooth as you'd expect with a surprise hint of spice at the tail end. A note scrawled in appalling handwriting is at the bottom of the bag.]

Hope this makes up for my part of the bill.
If you need help drinking it, let me know.
--Clayton

[ruinously]

[ THIS IS SO CUTE, he is definitely returning the favor though it's less whiskey and more, uh. salt and chalk and a detailed description on how to draw a demon trap.

nails it? ]

text; un: romanoff (misfire)

[deaddrop]

And Dad thought Ohio was boring. How long you think he'd have lasted stuck in the dark?

[ruinously]

what

[deaddrop]

Delivered to Dean's door without a note, a Christmas stocking.

The contents include:

• A flask.
  
• A bottle of Wild Turkey.
  
• A pair of lacy silk panties. Who wears them is up to him.
  

text — un: kestrel (1/?)

[realists]

[ sometime during dean's canon update ]

I finished the books

[realists]

[ later ]

I tried to return them but the door was locked

text; un: romanoff

[deaddrop]

How are you doing? Haven't blown your cover yet?

text - un; nightmoves

[ruinously]

One - rude, what makes you think I'd blow my cover?

Two - I was just thinking about you. Where'd you end up?