one way or another, i'm gonna find ya

[venatical]

Who: Dean Winchester and: Meyer Lansky, Gabriel, Chuck, Raphael, Crowley, Balthazar, Castiel (and if we talked about Dean pranking your character OOCly already, then you too and I'm a ditz and forgot!)
What: Exploits of one Dean Winchester, hilariously suited to being a Trickster. Well, hilarious to him. For the moment.
When: Day 59 (I think? If you want it to be on another day that'll probably be fine.)
Where: Various spots around the Cape. Pretty much just tag in and say where you are/what you dude is doing, it can be super short or super not. Dean will appear/run into them!
Warnings: Individual threads will feature different situations. In one thread, there's dubcon. In general, not-so-nice pranking and near-killing.

Notes: This is pretty much closed to the people I've already discussed pranks/etc. with oocly. If I left your name off it's because I am occasionally the most forgetful person on the planet; just let me know and I'll fix it!


Ever since he woke up the other day -- well, since Cas woke him up, but that's a whole other issue -- he's been stuffing his face with candy and also fighting to keep his hands to himself. The longer this goes on though, the more people freak out about their new bodies, and Dean feels more and more unhinged, and it's like it's... not even a problem. It feels good, like he's buzzed on sugar and caffeine and general mayhem, and it's great. He can't remember the last time he ever felt so carefree.

But then sometimes, something reaches through the buzz, and it's like having a rock in his shoe. It's like a little pinch at first, but then it gets worse, and worse, until it's all Dean can think about, and he has to do something about it.

He has to give these people what's coming to them. They'd do the same to him, wouldn't they? Hell, some of them did already. It's time for Dean to show them how much it sucks when something more powerful than them wants to come along and teach them a lesson.

Comments

[recognize_an_opportunity]

Meyer's taken to wandering around, trying to quell the urge to drink blood, trying to avoid running into people. This has to go away sooner or later, right? If he's trapped as a vampire for the rest of his life, he's going to be extremely displeased.

Today, though, he's found a quiet place to sit and think. And, yes, count things. For now, he's just focusing on counting some pebbles from the beach, but if he finds something else, he'll have to count that, too.

He hopes nobody stumbles across him out here. This whole thing is deeply embarrassing on many levels.

[venatical]

The worst thing about this urge to cause mischief is that it's disrupting how good he feels otherwise. Like, things had been awesome all the way up until he couldn't ignore anymore the fact that there are people out there who think they're so high and mighty. There are people out there who deserve to be taken down a peg or two. He doesn't know what he has to do to get rid of this urge, but he wants to go back to feeling great.

He knows where the people he really wants to go after are, but he's also kind of... Well, it's probably not the best idea to go after them, right? So what's he supposed to do with all this leftover energy?

He appears on the beach, essentially just abusing his magic powers in the hopes that they'll burn out some of this restlessness. Nope, mostly.

"Hey." He doesn't recognize the guy, but he recognizes what's going on, and he points. "You the Count?" And then in case he forgot, he adds on the laugh.

[recognize_an_opportunity]

He looks up at the sound of someone's voice, a voice he recognizes from speaking to him earlier. Of all of the people who could have showed up on the beach while he was counting, this guy might be the worst possible option, because he seemed to find the counting thing deeply hilarious.

"Yeah, that's what you're calling me, I guess," he said, before looking back down again at the pebbles, now arranging several of the similar looking ones into a pile. He knows there's no point in arguing with this 'the Count' business. He's going to get called that whether or not he wants it.

[venatical]

This is the little squirt who wanted Dean to black market him some cigarettes, too. That piece of information feels incredibly important as he sizes him up again, coming closer and peering over at his piles.

"So what are you, then? And who are you, I guess." Oh, right. Names. He should care about those things and not just whether or not this guy should be screwed around with.

i'm not sure entirely how to do this so here, have a really vague comment

[hung_garian]

Speaking of those who've already given him what they thought he had coming, Gabriel's getting quite accustomed to this being human business. He doesn't like it any more than he'd thought he would, but at the very least he can cope with it reasonably well - he's getting almost comfortable with it. He's still having trouble with the notions of eating proper food and going to bed at night, but drinking enough coffee stops him being hungry and staves off sleep for quite a while too.

Unfortunately, this combination also makes him rather twitchy, and means that he crashes pretty badly every now and then. This is one of those times. He's just woken up from having essentially passed out on the couch, after having stayed up most of the night. He grimaces - his stomach actually hurts rather than just feeling empty, so it's probably time to eat something. The kitchen's sadly lacking in candy, but there's some muesli mix in a cupboard that tastes of nothing, and that's better than tasting of nutrition, so he pours a few handfuls of that into a bowl, and starts eating that as if it were popcorn while flicking through the copy of Paradise Lost he'd left in the living room weeks ago. He's really regretting not having a TV right now.

this is perfect!

[venatical]

The pull is strongest with a few people. Lucifer's frustratingly out of the equation, which means Dean's feeble attempt to keep himself in check is completely out the window. He's pissed he can't get Lucifer, who he thinks needs the most adjustment out of everyone in this place, but after that? Crowley, for sure. And right after that?

He's invisible when he appears in Gabriel's living room. Sure, they're on... some kind of terms now, but that doesn't change the fact that Gabriel's not only the cockiest douchebag ever, but he's also messed with Dean way too much in the past. He needs a taste of his own medicine.

Heh, taste.

It takes so little effort to poison what Gabriel's eating. Like, he just needs to think about it and tilt his head and then he knows. It won't be long until Gabriel knows too. It's not lethal, just your typical food poisoning deal; Dean doesn't actually know if he can raise anyone from the dead, and it's not even that he's afraid to risk it. He just doesn't want to let Gabriel off that easy.

[hung_garian]

It takes Gabriel a little longer than it should to realise something's wrong. Being human feels weird all the time, and sometimes the vessel hurts for no reason that he can discern. This, he assumes at first, is no different... at least until the feeling doesn't go away after a few seconds. He grimaces, and - to Dean's probable displeasure - manages to walk to the bathroom with relative dignity before starting to throw up.

He doesn't give it much thought for a while. For one thing, he's too busy feeling ill and sorry for himself - for another, he assumes at first that it's just part and parcel of being human. And hey, on the bright side, being ill means he can't eat, and that means he doesn't have to eat his vegetables. It's not much of a comfort, but he's determined to find some kind of silver lining. Once he's done with being sick, though, he starts to wonder. He's pretty sure muesli isn't supposed to give people food poisoning - meat and dairy, sure, but not cereal. Perhaps it's a one-off thing. That this is Dean's fault doesn't occur to him, not yet, he's barely even starting to think that it's anyone's fault... but there are definitely suspicions forming, and Dean's name will be pretty high on the list.

[venatical]

It probably won't help that as soon as Gabriel stands up, he'll find himself in the middle of quite the unfortunate and sudden leak that may be attributed to a faulty pipe under the sink, but let's be real here, the puddle comes before the problem with the pipe.

Dean watches Gabriel be sick, and it's... He should not be enjoying this, but it's deeply satisfying, and more and more, he's less attached to what he's doing, to who he is. He's so intent on what he's doing to Gabriel and what he's going to do to Gabriel and how he's handling it all that he doesn't have room to think about anything else. Aside from, you know, how fulfilling this is.

Day 59

[servingmichael]

After talking to his siblings...or whatever they were now, and after meeting with Castiel, Raphael was struggling with his own impulses - both those of his duty towards his brothers and those of this altered angelic form.

Besides, what was really the harm of making Dean Winchester lust after Castiel anyway?

So Raphael was flying slowly - even for this type of angel - confetti and glitter wafting in his wake, bow drawn but arrows still in the quiver - until he found Dean.

[venatical]

Dean's gotten out some of his... urges, but now he's even more keyed up and energized. That had felt good, that had felt right, all justified and mischievous, and he wants more. He has enough sense to know that that's not a healthy urge, and he's battling with himself over that when Raphael finds him, near the center of town.

As soon as he turns around and spots someone else, any chance his conscience had at getting control is gone.

"What are you?" He grins broadly and produces a lollipop. "A party machine? Nymph of the pride parade?"

[servingmichael]

"I'm an angel Dean." His wings beat irritatedly, and Raphael dipped a little in the movement - though his feet still didn't touch the ground - until he bobbed back up to Dean's eye level.

He wondered if Dean would know who he was.

[venatical]

Sorry, Dean's just going to... Yeah, he can't help it.

He busts out laughing, so hard that he even has to lean over and brace himself on his hands, holding his lollipop in his hand. This feels good, too; he's been full of coiling tension all day, even with the pranks he's pulled -- and maybe even the pranks haven't been helping all that much, just making him thirst for more -- and this laugh feels good.

Warning: Sexy dream pranks in this thread

[happytobleed]

Castiel has spent the last day dealing with sexual frustration and the general fear that someone he cares about is going to kill someone else he cares about, though the number of permutations possible within that worry only escalate his general anxiety over it.

He's feeling weak again and, more than that, exhausted. He can tell that he needs sleep after being awake for over 24 hours since the change.

He waits until it looks like Meg and Dean aren't home before sneaking back into their house and into his rarely-touched bedroom. The bed is still made from before he moved in with Meg and he lies down on top of the blankets, trying to get comfortable, but he finds that his clothes get in the way of that.

After restless tossing and turning, he loses everything one piece at a time until he's down to his undershirt, briefs and socks before finally slipping under the covers.

warning: dubcon

[venatical]

Freakin' little glitter nugget.

Dean manages to hold off long enough to give the sparkly chihuahua what's coming to him, but then he can't resist the pull to go to Castiel. And appearing places sucks when Cas is the one whammying him around, but Dean's getting super used to it now. It's more convenient, and he's all about the convenience, especially when the longer he spends away from Cas, the dizzier and more desperate he gets to be near him.

He appears at the foot of his bed and takes the scene in -- HA see how Cas likes it -- but he can't make himself stand still long enough to see if Cas wakes up from the creepiness. God, this is the most undressed Dean's ever seen him, and Dean's already freaking hard just looking at him.

He should say something to him, but wow, why? He already knows Cas is some kind of thing that makes sex super sexy, and he already wanted a piece of that before Raphael love bombed him. Maybe he's under the influence of something now, but who cares? He wants this, so he should be able to have it.

So instead of waking Cas up with like, words or shaking his arm or something, Dean climbs on top of him and starts sucking a mark low on his neck, biting roughly.

[happytobleed]

Once Castiel finally drifts off to sleep, it's deep. His body is weak without sleep or food or sexual energy and the stress of the day. The worry lines don't leave his face until he finally drifts off, lying mostly on his back.

When Dean appears in his room, his body responds to the sexual energy before Dean even touches him. He turns the rest of the way onto his back, as if inviting Dean to touch him, and by the time the mattress is sinking under Dean's weight, he's getting turned on, lips parting and body relaxing under Dean.

He hums as Dean's mouth moves over his skin, tipping his head back and exposing more of his throat.

[venatical]

Is Cas even awake? If he were, would he behave any differently? Cas is a sex machine now, and Dean wants to see what that means, what kind of heights he can drive Cas to and vice versa, and he's not even sure how much of that is influenced by Raphael's arrow. Sure, he's knocked breathless by how much he wants Cas, by how good he tastes, smells; the longer Dean spends near him, kissing his skin, the more Dean wants to take.

He's grinding gently against Cas without even realizing it, hips moving in small circles as he mouths over his skin. His eyes slide shut, and this becomes some kind of feast for him -- and he doesn't even eat sex. Every inch of his body is screaming for more, for the both of them to get so lost they don't even know where one of them starts or the other one ends.

Is his conscience around? How much of real Dean is freaking out about this? The thought appears in Dean's mind and disappears just as quickly. There's just too much working against it -- the energy Cas is putting off, the help from the arrows, and the underlying sense from Real Dean that he doesn't get enough of Cas to begin with.

He leaves a mark there, purposefully above where Cas's shirt might reach. Cas is his. His angel, his incubus, his whatever. As he drags his tongue up the line of Cas's throat, he finds himself being careful to be quiet, to move slowly. Maybe this is a game now. How long can he go before Cas wakes up?

/Is stylishly late baby... just tag in however

[sellerofsins]

It was a pretty good week, actually. Very good. Considering the very low standards he had set for this place, they'd excelled lately. Everyone mixing up what they are, becoming human or losing divinity, it was actually funny to observe. But only from a distance, not actively. Course he was, as ever, untouchable. Still a demon, still very much King of Hell.

And still able to choke down the toxic beer they served at the bar. Honestly, he didn't know why he kept drinking it, he just did. It gave the illusion of escaping this poor excuse for a relocation.

He would of thought he should of left by now. As Crowley knocked back his drink, he calmly contemplated what next. Desperate people all over, willing to do anything to get their old life back. Perhaps he had a little networking to get around too. All those souls for the taking if he just played it right.

[venatical]

When Dean figures out where Crowley is, he needs to figure out how to best approach this, the best way to humble Crowley. Dean wants to make sure he has a front row seat to the moment when Crowley realizes he's about to get what's coming to him, too. He decides on the casual approach -- he'll come join him at the bar, but before he even sets foot inside, he's already given Crowley what he's earned: a first class trip to Feelingsville.

Dean doesn't know how long it'll take to set in or even how long it'll last, not that he's troubled by that. If it wears off too soon, he'll just fix it again.

Pushing the door open, he strolls in and smiles with a confidence that's not unlike him normally, but there's something harder underneath the surface.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." He hasn't seen Crowley since he heard he arrived, so this is as good a place of greeting as any.

[sellerofsins]

Crowley didn't even need to look up from the horrible swill he was drinking to know Dean Winchester was swanning about and trying to act cocky, he could practically small the bravado before he walked into the door. Not exactly a new tactic for Dean but hey, why tamper with something that never works but gives the appearance that it does? And it was only a matter of time before he decided to come and play, especially after everything. Turning his head only slightly, he raised his drink in mock cheers.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Someone is sounding awfully arrogant this evening."

Which either meant he was putting on a show, he really did feel confident or perhaps he won this species swapping pot luck? He suddenly got a weird pang inside him at the idea of Dean being some sort of God. Capable of actually doing some kind of harm. Was that -- fear? Nope. Impossible. He channelled that out months ago. He most just had cowardice and annoyance mixed into something alike fear but not quite.

Shaking it off, he set his glass down and gave Dean a small smirk. "Fancy a pint while you're here? Before we get into this whole tit-for-tat thing."

[godsprophet]

It had been a long couple of days.

The biggest issue he's been dealing with was Balthazar as a leviathan. That was causing all sorts of problems, not only for himself, but for their house and the rest of the Cape as well. Dean might be well versed in how to deal with a leviathan, but Chuck most definitely was not.

He'd needed a few minutes--or hours, preferably--away from it all. He's all alone, walking down the streets of Kore. Any other time, he would have been fairly nervous, walking about by himself. But he'd gotten powers of his own recently, and unless anyone had a branch that was struck by lightening, he wasn't exactly worried about getting killed. Not right now, at least.

[venatical]

Dean's still feeling antsy when he runs into Chuck. He's given some people their comeuppance already, but all it's done is leave him feeling more keyed up than he already was. There are bound to be other people around here who need to be put into their place, right?

"Hey." Maybe talking to Chuck will help distract him. "How're you holding up?"

[godsprophet]

Chuck gives Dean a small smile when he catches sight of him. He hasn't heard much from Dean much since he arrived here, but after all that's been happening, he's not entirely sure either of them can be blamed. He's sure Dean has his own problems to deal with in this whole power exchange.

"Oh, uh..." Leviathans. That's how he's holding up. "You know..." Not very well, he means to say.

"What about you? Have you... changed?"

((Can this be late day 60? And no rush. <3))

[tryingitall]

The trouble with spending all his time in the woods hunting, for Balthazar, is loneliness. Angels are meant to be together in a group. Leviathans, apparently, have the same tendency to congregate, or else some of his previous instincts linger, because he's bored all by himself, and answering network posts has been unsatisfying.

He wanders around the outskirts of town, cautious, trying not to be seen. He particularly doesn't want Anna or Gabriel to spot him, not because he's afraid of them, but because he hates to worry them. And Chuck...well. Chuck would worry, too, justifiably.

Without consciously planning it, he feels his vessel melt and shift. Everything looks a few inches taller than it did a moment ago, and, when he looks down, he realizes he's taken on a different form. A familiar one, at that. Fascinated, he peers at his now Chucklike reflection in a window.

Huh! Who knew Leviathans could shapeshift?

But, good. Now he can explore as he chooses without creating a panic. He'll just have to keep a hold on his hunger, and his temper.

The fact that he's decided to just pursue his own desires now, instead of focusing on protecting those around him, may not be a good sign.

sure! <3

[venatical]

Aw, someone sprang Chuck from his trap. He knew when he put him in the Infinity Circle that it wasn't going to last forever; maybe he should have actually made it last forever... but no, Chuck really hadn't done anything yet. It really had been a preventative measure because he does like Chuck, and he is afraid of what these newfound powers could do to people... which is something he thinks from time to time and he's only just barely is able to see that he's worried about himself.

"Oh, hey, Lightning Bolt. Feeling free and easy?"

Not that he's expecting a friendly greeting in return.

Re: sure! <3

[tryingitall]

Lightning Bolt? 'Chuck' gives him a blank look for half a second before Balthazar remembers he's supposed to be temporarily Zeus. That'll be hard to simulate.

"That...kinda makes me sound like a feminine hygiene product, man," he ventures. If he looks uncertain, it's because he is, but hopefully that works with Chuck's face.