Pʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ sɪɴs (open & closed starters eventually)

[righteously]

Who: Dean Winchester & Others
When: July 2024
Where: Cadens, Nocwich, The Horizon
What: A Monthly Catch-All
Warnings: show-appropriate alcoholism, violence, and suicidal ideation just as a blanket possibility.

Oʜ, I'ᴍ ᴀ ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ᴍᴀɴ
Tᴏ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ᴏɴ ʙᴏᴛʜ ʜᴀɴᴅs
Tʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇs I ʟᴏᴠᴇ
Sᴏᴍᴇ ғᴏʟᴋs ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ
Yᴇᴀʜ, ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs ᴛʜᴇʏ ɢᴏᴛ ɴᴏɴᴇ
Sᴛᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ
Lᴇᴛ's ᴊᴜsᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴇ

Comments

EX-POST-HIATUS

[northerndragon]

[He had been in this place a few times before the long story the Horizon had woven for them, but he had not really known Dean then. During all those centuries, though, he had called Dean a friend, had known the place well.

Not well enough to remember what the thing under discussion might be, though. So he feels, now, like he's walking into a place that he knows from a dream, some parts recalled well, some parts all a haze. He smiles, lifts a hand in greeting.]

The wolf wants a mug of one of your better ales. And all right, all right, I know it has nothing to do with water. But what is a pool table?

[righteously]

( Dean's got the look of a man who likes to smile, but who does not get to smile nearly as often as he should. It splits his features now, a wide and charming and extremely genuine grin. It's authentic, this warmth he puts out for Jon — no question, no doubt, that he's well-received here. Not to toot his own horn, but if someone AU'd Dean Winchester into Game of Thrones there's no damn doubt this man would be a Northman.

Maybe that's why they got along so well, in that other life, where they were mostly impressions and variations of their truer selves. )

That-

( He says, nodding his head toward the green-felted, well-worn table across the room even as he pours Jon something from the tap into a nice, cold glass. )

-is a pool table, and it's a freaking crime I let you go this whole time without kicking your ass at it yet.

[northerndragon]

[It's the same with Jon: his smile, when it's seen, is bright and sweet and genuine, but it is seldom seen. He wears a serious face for most men, and most women, too, and most say it is too serious. For Dean, today, his smile is open.]

I'd say that's big talk, but you have me at a disadvantage. How does it work?

[There is, clearly, nothing pooling on the felt of the table at all!]

It's a game. [It must be.] Chance or skill? Like tiles, or like dice?