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14.14 Ouroboros
#putting this on this blog too#if for only the sheer and#absolute look of betrayal on cas's face.#LOL!! look.#SORRY CAS#u are the nerd. but yes. dean did fall for u.#so.. idk. match made in heaven/hell/kinda both.#lbr.#featuring: castiel (qapsiel)#ship insp; dean x cas#dean insp; mirror
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@murderdeals -- it's true. you're on my healthcare plan.
Do not blame me for who I am. The doctor prescribed me 20 mL of #murderdeals twice a day.
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those memories may be their own form of torture. ones that rise and fall in his mind's eye like the waves of a tide. coming in so slow. so subtle that it's hard to notice at first. but then? so much gets swallowed up by it that you're left flailing your arms as you drown--waiting--waiting for someone to throw you a lifeline before you sink under the surface once and for all. only? just like the same tide. they roll back. leaving you gasping for air and gulping in one breath after another until the sun warms your skin and brightens the world around you leaving you in safety. contentment. as if you hadn't nearly swallowed your last breath. choked out and drug to your demise by its unforgiving hands.
and yet? he would want to keep them. dean would never chance anything to remove what he saw there. what he did there from his memory. those images that haunt him serve a purpose. a reminder. that the darkness is what he was pulled from. what one being, the very being he has buried himself against, was willing to suffer through and risk everything for the second his fingers touched dean's soul. they serve a purpose. even if they claw at the insides of his brain, his throat, his core mercilessly at times. that same being is the one that chases even those moments away. simply by existing and by keeping him. without question. in spite of his mistakes. in spite of his ability to keenly fuck up and fuck up HORRIBLY. in spite of HIMSELF.
no, he wouldn't trade remembering that place for a more peaceful mind. because he'd lose a piece of himself. and, in it, perhaps even a piece of HIM. dean's fingers form a fist, balling up the cloth of cas's shirt at the small of the angel's back. his opposite hand is pressed flat against cas's chest. arm bent between them. he can't get any closer.
"holding you to that," he murmurs as he starts to melt into the touch. "nah. i don't care." dean pauses for a moment as if that statement just caught up to him. he..truly..doesn't care if sam sees. let him see. he knows anyway. one look in his brother's eyes and dean knew he knew the very next morning after their first time. they just..haven't talked about it yet. and dean.. well dean's dean and he's discovering a lot about himself and that takes patience, time. effort. "let me sleep til i wake up.. it's okay."
HE THINKS HE SAID THE WRONG THING WHEN HE NOTICES THE SHINE IN DEAN'S EYES. Those are tears threatening to fall. Usually, tears are bad; they are a sign that you're sad or hurt or desperate. Castiel remembers his surprise when he found tears on his own face back when he was human — when everything had been too much one evening after three different customers had yelled at him at the Gas'n'Sip and he'd just violently missed his family, his home, and knew he could neither go back to heaven nor was welcome at the bunker. That had been despair, sadness, and pain all mixed into one. Of course, there are also good tears — like those parents shed when they're finally able to hold their newborn baby after a stressful birth.
Dean, though, has no visible injury and should not be desperate because for once, the world isn't ending, and his brother is safe and sound sleeping a couple of yards away. There are also no joys of fatherhood. So why are there tears?
Maybe it's the memory of Hell, Castiel thinks as Dean wiggles down a little and then, impossibly, even closer, his face mushed into the collar of Castiel's button-down. He pulled Dean off the rack — he knew what it was like there, the pain and the agony and the screams of the tortured souls amidst the stench of sulfur and despair. Of course, his mission was only to save Dean Winchester from Hell, and he never spared any thought to what that experience would do to the man, but he knows now that memories can be worse than the actual situation. He wishes he had taken the time to scrub Dean's brain free of those memories, too.
"I'm here to remind you whenever you need me to," he promises as he starts to gingerly rub Dean's back because he saw a mother soothe her child like that once and hopes it will help now, too. "Now try to sleep, Dean, or you'll be grumpy the whole morning. Do you want me to wake you before Sam gets up?"
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@ruinedmyself -- since you been spamming me with winchester bros art all day. i'm gonna come back swinging with this. i love how in these gifs, all but the one you can't really see 'em.. they are always angled towards one another and/or are close to each other. even in sleep. they just naturally seek each other out and it hits me in the feelings where it COUNTS, man. on the edge of the bed closest to either one's side. or close in a way by proximity. or both. because that's just how they sleep. how they orbit in one another's gravity because for so long? each other is all they had. and that just never goes away. THESE FREAKING ASSHOLES MAN. 🥺🥹😭
SPN Parallels: Sleeping!chesters
#featuring: sam winchester (ruinedmyself)#hey brother? there's an endless world to rediscover. what if i'm far from home? oh brother i will hear you call. (sam winchester)#oh if the sky comes falling down for you. there's nothing in this world i wouldn't do. (feat. ruinedmyself)#ruinedmyself#dean insp; mirror
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50% #omg., 49% #(crack.), 1% dumbass.
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𝗝𝗨𝗟𝗜𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗪𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟 : 20 / ∞
a series of photos taken by dean winchester ( @bloodsalted )
— 𝙢𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙨 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 / 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 —
#how freaking cute??!!?!#i love love love the first one!#dawwuh.#featuring: julianna winchester (ghstfacr)#under the neon lights. i think we might get married in vegas. (chapter viii)
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dean simply grins in response to crowley's taunt and sore misjudgment of his dancing skills. a roll of his shoulders and he steps back to let the demon make his next move. green eyes narrow in concentration as he calculates any possible shots he might have. a suppressed inward groan gets swallowed down with a finished off beer. one he's craning his neck to spot the waitress to motion for so he can refill. when he does catch her eye, he gives her a press of his fingers together plea for help. she smiles and acknowledges him--then his attention bounces back to present company.
"think i was able to get away with half the women i've met in bars like this without being able to dance a few steps? c'mon, man. give me more credit." a small blink when crowley only sinks one of the two balls he's aimed at. is he messing with him? that's gonna be a costly mistake if he is. least in dean's mind. their waitress approaches. he orders another round and a shot of whiskey for himself. make it a double. and she's off!
"oh but i do test. pop quiz style even," he wriggles his eyebrows still trying to gauge if he's being toyed with. doesn't matter. he's got an excellent shot and crowley's only one ball ahead. "least you agreed to dance with me. it's a start." dean licks his lips and bends at the waist. cue between his fingers, one ball knocks off crowley's sending it to align against the edge. while it bounces over and hits yet another one his own sending BOTH into the corner pocket. their waitress returns with drinks. dean circles around the table and plucks up the shot before tipping it towards the demon with a wicked as hell wink. one that costs him perhaps out of sheer punishment for being so damn COCKY. cause now that he's one ball ahead? both simply have one of their own and the 8 ball left. AND HE MISSES HIS SHOT!
"shit," he murmurs under his breath.
Dean develops a talent for making deflection a form of art. Crowley huffs an audibly mischievous laugh at that wine retort, one that remains trapped behind shut lips. " If that box is you~ ? " He pauses, twirling the billard cue once after setting his cocktail back onto its spot. Attention in no moment leaving Dean's calculated motions. " Sensitive as one. A match, methinks. " That Crowley isn't exactly looking at his bestie doesn't prevent the more than skeptical arch of a solitary brow, solely in response to Dean's horrible perception of his own singing skills. " Sure. You were plastered like twenty pirates. Might've granted you an extra reality warping experience. I'll give you that. "
An even result thanked to the hunter's one-ball-shot! Dandy! Crowley neither can nor will suppress what triumphant little smirk creeps across his face— then it's his turn to estimate his next move. From where he stands now. No seductive, hip-swaying sexy walk á la squirrel to show off. What was that about reality warp? Seems like the king himself isn't exempt. That guy's hips are as stiff as wood; brings Crowley's train of thought right back to the box comparison. He doesn't voice it. His impulses challenged by Dean's teasing in regards to his dancing talent, the demon lets his mouth fall slightly agape in mock-offense. Before snapping it shut for about a second or two.
" Excuse you. The Wednesday Addams dance is iconic! True art. I mean what'd be your pick? Macarena, I bet. " Thanks, own mind, now he pictures the whole gang, Huey aka Castiel, Dewey aka Sam and Louie aka Dean doing that. Crowley meanwhile determined his next shot, rounds the pool table's nearby corner and positions his cue; squints at the targeted balls. Aiming for a double victory. " Either way, I will waltz you all the way up there, sunshine. Don't test me. " Maybe losing this game won't be too bad after all. But it's about principle. Crowley could utilize a wee trick here— ah, not yet at least. Which lands him one of two balls in the hole. Great... not.
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⸺ ❝ 𝗢𝗞𝗔𝗬 𝗕𝗨𝗧 . . . 𝗪𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗘 if i was a worm ? ❞
"---okay but is it a tequila worm? or a dirty worm? inquiring minds wanna know. gotta make the right decision."
#this is a drunk convo.#or a stoned one.#LOL!#featuring: julianna winchester (ghstfacr)#ghstfacr#under the neon lights. i think we might get married in vegas. (chapter viii)
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seeing castiel's eyeroll? dean loves that freaking expression. granted, there are times when it's vaguely OR OUTRIGHT annoying when it's given to him. mostly when he's trying to prove a point and the angel's stubborn ass is refusing to listen. or finding him annoying. when he's not trying to be annoying. he's just being HIM. but when it comes to times like this? it's adorable and warms dean's heart to see him doing such a human thing knowing full well it's him and sam that he picked it up from more than likely. since they've both got a helluva good eyeroll game. also a perk that comes with the winchester genetics.
"hmmm?" he asks, not quite catching the mutter cause he's distracted elsewhere. but the mention of genitals accompanied by the touch that keeps sending chills up his arm stopping earns a frown etching itself over his mouth. dean looks down at the paused hand, then back at cas. then down. and back. one might say that now he's allowed to openly enjoy those flittering touches that aren't so flittering anymore? he's gotten a little greedy with them. addicted even. and he wants it to continue.
doesn't stop him from chuckling at the honest-to-god's truth behind comparing cas's dick to a smaller size. "you got a point there, cas," his brows shoot up and the chuckle becomes an outright laugh accompanied by the shake of his head and hitch of his shoulders in a shrug. "but i'm rather fond of the size. and. the way your fingers feel.." his voice trails off--a flashback of that sensation ripples through his belly. his laptop's easily put away. he doesn't resist a lick when castiel moves to straddle his lap. a quick gasp thanks to his breath hitching in his throat says he's more than responsive to cas's weight settling there.
how bout you don't think? forest hued eyes drop his stare from cas's blue sky colored irises to the hand gathering up his shirt before pushing under it. "not thinking's good. definitely good." goosebumps start greeting cas's fingertips about halfway up his stomach and continue to ripple across his skin right above where they continue upward. dean meets his gaze again, swallows hard and licks his lips in anticipation--only to have his ears ASSAULTED in a screech and blaring kids music.
"SON OF A BITCH!!!" the scream gets tossed over cas's shoulder in the direction of his bedroom door. annoyance instantly floods his face. flattens out his features and darkens his eyes. he gently nudges cas off his lap and covers his ears as he starts speed walking to the door, yanks it open and stalks out in the direction of the god damn system. by the time he gets there--sam's nowhere in sight and he slams the door open running towards the tape recorder sitting in front of the intercom with the switch flipped ON. fingers desperately turn it off, yank out the tape and GUT IT. spirals of brown black tape fall through the air and cracked plastic hits the floor. dean's voice rings out through the intercom a second later. "sam.. you're a DICK! and this act of TREASON? will not go unpunished!!"
CASTIEL ROLLS HIS EYES. That's a human expression he picked up very quickly after meeting the Winchesters, and it's something he has to use at least once a week when he's around them. It's a very fitting face for expressing exasperation and annoyance in his opinion. It's like he wants to turn his eyes around and look into his skull rather than see whatever bullshit is happening in front of him. "One week out of 52…," he mutters, deciding right then and there to not ask Sam about the last time because he can vividly imagine what had happened and doesn't want to add fuel to the prank war fire.
"Why should I be worried about this vessel's genitals in the first place?" A frown tugs at his forehead as he briefly stops stroking his fingers over Dean's arm. "Even if it were smaller. That would only mean we wouldn't need as much preparation for anal intercourse." Which would be a huge advantage in his eyes (not that he dislikes prepping Dean, but sometimes, even an angel of the lord can get impatient, especially if he didn't get any orgasm to take the edge off before). But this topic and Dean's quickened pulse and the little wink (which Castiel knows how to interpret by now) give him another idea. He smiles, pushes Dean's laptop off his lap, and then straddles his hips. Maybe intercourse will distract him from this childish behavior. And if Castiel has to engage him in sex every time he's trying to come up with a new prank? Well. Castiel is prepared to take one for the team, as the saying goes.
"How about you don't think?" he suggests as he pulls Dean's t-shirt out of his jeans and then wriggles his hands under the fabric to smooth his fingers up his soft, hairless skin, rubbing at his pecs. Yes, that's very nice. Before Castiel can lean in to catch Dean's lips for a kiss, though, a horrible screeching sound blares throughout the bunker's intercom, followed by the shrill sound of children's music. The wheels on the bus go round and round. Castiel presses his hands to his ears.
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Safest hunter in the world
#alexa play I'M NOT OKAAAAAY by MCR pls.#a;lfjgal#I LOVE EM.#ship insp; dean x cas#dean insp; art#i took a heavenly ride through our silence. i knew the moment had arrived for killing the past and coming back to life. (feat. qapsiel)
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✨so I know I’m pretty new at writing with you. But I gotta say I can hear him speak. I’m really excited to write with you and see the adventures that our muses go on together!
send ✨ if you like my writing and feel free to tell me why !!
// gah! i JUST saw this while looking at my inbox for a meme to answer! it got lost when you sent it in! d'awwww! made me so happy to find! thank you thank you, lovely! your charlie is amazing and i adore her to pieces! thank you thank you for the opportunity to write with you! i can't wait to see what we come up with! dean loves his lady bro so hard! 💕
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@executiioner || the whole being dead thing starters || accepting!
“Blah, blah, Bible. Jesus magic.”
dean's reclined about as far back in the flimsy chair sitting at a table outside the local bar that the poor backing is gonna allow. any further? his ass is gonna end up on the pavement. gaze fixed upon the sky overhead and the warm sun beating down on his face--he takes in a breath and blindly plucks up the half-drank beer off the black, wrought iron table top. lips greet the bottleneck midway. a craned neck and a side glance later..
..that's when he sees the protestors starting to gather across the street. he's got no idea what kinda building's over there but judging by the carbon copy, stepford husband and wives looking lot of them and the signs they're carrying? it's gotta be something that's none of their business but they've decided to make it their own anyway. lots of words about HELL and JESUS scribbled on them. "...the hell..?"
his face screws up in confusion. long legs swing backwards and he scoots up in his chair til he's upright again. a bit of shuffling around and one foot's cocked up on its tiptoes underneath his chair. the other? planted firmly on the ground. he starts accessing what shenanigans he's about to witness when he sees them start waving to the cars passing by. or attempting to stop the people who just wanna go about their business. oh. that's a...
a bar across the street from a church. he gets it now. a little roll of his eyes and a voice rings out to his right. it catches his attention and he glances towards the owner. a puff of a laugh chases after 'blah, blah, bible. jesus magic.' and her hard roll of the eyes is mirrored by one of his own. "yeah.. just weird that they're always so AGGRESSIVE. like.. isn't the guy they're promoting the opposite of that? peace, love and turn the other cheek? seems like that type? sorta misses the mark. I'LL DRINK TO THAT." his beer's tipped her way before he takes a swallow and gestures towards one of the empty seats at his table with a fan of his fingers.
"my table es su table... we can see how well it works for 'em in this neighborhood."
#featuring: anita blake (executiioner)#executiioner#oh hi lovely!#don't you cry no more. (chapter ii)
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Dean Winchester Thesis Statement
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lost in thought. lost in time. sometimes dean finds it hard to accept that he has this chance. to have her here again. there never seems to be anything good that truly lasts. not in his book. not for a while now. greeting any amount of good used to come so easy. to seize it and hold onto it. hoping that if he cares enough. that if he squeezes it tightly to his chest. so tight nothing can take it away from him, that'll grow and bloom into something more than this life that's been his since he before could barely reach the pedals of the impala. that's not him anymore. now? he's guarded. wary. and yet? one look at her and it's so easy to want to get caught up again. in hope that he can feel like he used to with the good that comes their way.
still. green eyes have been watching her for a handful of minutes. dean's kept quiet. mulling over how to say what's on his mind. no words jump to the front of his skull, however. before he can find the words, his touch says it all. fingers lace with hers and he gives them a squeeze, thumbs rubbing the sides of hers. "nah," he grins--it's uneven--another search of her eyes and he lowers his voice. "sometimes it's just--i dont know--having you here? yeah.." he squeezes her hands. HITS RIGHT IN THE CHEST. how's he say it though?
⛧ @bloodsalted takes ahold of mary’s hands.
meredith questions most of the softness lent to her, always strung along by its temporary state … then in rushes its only permanence, another sinner’s hands offered for her own; so she takes them without all the doubt, interlaces their fingers, and finds this is the only thing she’s ever been sure of. i’m so proud of you, remains unspoken, saved for a time dean seems more present. for now, mother lowers her voice and gives her eldest’s hands a squeeze. “ somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart? ”
#oh good lord i reblogged this onto my offdash blog.#no.#nooooo! stop! nooo! nooooo!#i'm like that office gif rn!#mothermary1983#featuring: mary winchester (mothermary1983)#lay your weary head to rest. (chapter i)
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@bloodsalted
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