#LAY YOUR WEARY HEAD TO REST

[hairychestloversblog]

Mmmhhh ☺️ A very inviting chest to lay on ☺️

[fogdraws]

Sometimes I just

[kokorolinkrun]

Dick Figures (2010-2014)

[dumb-zombie-girl]

I love him<3

He’s so adorable ^ v ^

[wvlfbreath]

i will never forgive supernatural for Cas and Dean. i refuse to accept it. but the rest… the rest is okay.

[venussbeehive]

Just let Destiel rest

[esoterium]

@qapsiel || random inbox starter! || always accepting!

"dean, there's a cowboy movie on tv."

there's not much going on. the hotel's in one of those tiny towns that's right out of some sorta horror novel. one stoplight to break up the monotony of nothing on the road but white dotted lines and tumbleweeds for days. sam's lucked out, though. with no one in sight for weeks, the weird owner with half his teeth in his front pocket gave them two rooms for the price of one. sure..it was a little shady of a deal and dean wondered if splitting them up was some sorta tactic out of hills have eyes but they had no idea who they were messing with if that was the case. or the arsenal that'd be greeting them if they tried to drag them off to their nuclear bunker full of messed up.

they've faced worse. let 'em have their space.

course cas showing up and being there? dean doesn't mind the company. he's hunched over the small two seater table by the window. hoagie from the truckstop (the only other open and functional business in town far as dean could tell) shoved in his mouth when cas points out the movie on the old enough for disco to still be king television. his ears perk up. few bites later and a swallow from his drink, dean's hopping up from the chair with a metallic clank and an arched brow shot back over his shoulder at the noise.

then with a toss of his body weight down on the bed, socked feet cross over one another and he huffs at his companion. "cowboy movie? this is more than a cowboy movie," a lowbrow look is given to the angel, "this is the good, the bad and the ugly. one of the best movies ever made. see that guy? that's clint eastwood. if we had him around? damn. our jobs would be so much easier," he muses shooting cas one of those little grins. "c'mon. take a load off and learn.."

[bloodsalteds]

@qapsiel || mystery prompts: sinday action edition || accepting!

2 + 11, i'm going for broke and doing both! (including them in the actual post but not listing what they are so it doesn't spoil the post!)

they've done this together more than a few times now. shared some fantasies in whispered tones when all the lights've been blown out from their antics. sam's getting rooms to himself lately (a few doors down so he doesn't have to hear) and they have so much time to make up for. so many experiences to have. so many ways to enjoy each other that dean doesn't feel like there's enough time in every night they can take to fit it all in. cas is the same. always looking for more. always wanting more. it's sinful how much they crave one another. lust at it's finest. and dean couldn't care any less.

not when his wrists are now bound together above his head. cas's tie is laced around and through in loops that intertwine a metallic rung of the headboard. he's good at tying knots. impressive even. dean's hands aren't going anywhere. a shuddering breath parts tongue swept lips left glistening with spit. his head lifts, a gasp drawn through them when the angel's fingers close around a nipple pinching it lightly and he groans when he sees the blue in castiel's eyes darken as they flick up to meet his.

the stare holds dean in place. pulse thundering in his ear drums as his breath quickens, stomach trembling and his erection is thick and curved towards his belly. unable to move and barely able to get out anything more than a shaken murmur of cas's name, the hunter's toes curl before his knee opposite of where cas lays beside him bends and drags them across the much softer sheets compared to the hotel they were at last night. he needs him. needs him so fucking bad it HURTS.

"you're gonna be the end of me," he whines shakenly body arching towards the touch as his head falls back down--head turned in cas's direction as dazed eyes take in the sight of him, how the shadows play off a bare shoulder. god damn, was he gonna be.

[bloodsalted]

@firstsoncain || a meme continuation || from here.

abandoned, rundown house in the middle of nowhere. impala parked out front. it's a typical sight for dean winchester. though there's no one in tow with him this time. no. he came out here alone. seeking to put to end the lives of a nest of vampires he discovered while out this way on a hunt with sam. one that he never told his brother, or anyone else for that matter, about. this one was personal. call it something of a secret passion of his ever since---well---he was one. the time that it truly dug into him. shook him in more ways than he let on. years ago. it's a kept tight fascination of his. fascination. stupid word for it. he's been secretly obsessed with hunting these bastards down in his alone time. no one knows. it's just easier that way.

least no one knew.. til--well--he was found. standing in the doorway of a room that looks like a complete blood bath (because that's what it is) in front of him and hearing the familiar steps of someone who instantly makes dean's stomach drop to his shoes and beyond behind him? dean feels the blood dripping from his fingertips. a keep honing in on the mess he's made of himself and knows that now.. cain is in on part of his little secret. a crimson slicked hand reaches out. takes hold of the doorknob and he closes the door (blocking the view) before taking a backwards step and turning to face cain. he looks caught. busted. lips open and blood-caked face full of remorse and shock.

there's a long pause between cain's expectant stare and dean's tongue finding the ability to form words. what did you do, cain's silent question is brought to life by his very expression. dean's lips wrap soundlessly over the first few attempts to explain himself before he blurts out...

"....they had it coming. four dead hikers.. tracked their belongings back here. i made sure those poor bastards were the last ones that ended up being dinner. i'm not going off the deep end or anything. if that's what you're thinking.." he's not.

[bloodsaltedshifting]

@ghstfacr || nightamres & sleeping meme || accepting!

“I broke the lock. You were screaming.”

no matter how many time's he's tried to save him. he keeps getting the same outcome. every door he opens and runs through? sam's dead on the other side. he's killed the fucking demon three different ways. out ran it twice. and dean just can't do it. the door opens. sam's bloodied and limp. torn apart and gone. hanging and staring down at him with vacant eyes. burnt and a shadow blazed into the fucking concrete. make that make sense! you can't! cause DEAN can't!

the more he finds him broken, bloodied and dead--the more panicked dean gets. and he can't wake up. there's no waking up and he's starting to think he's not dreaming anymore. maybe he really is awake and this is some kind of fucking hell he's ended up trapped in with no escaping.

this time the door's still bloody with his handprints. crimson that's not his own. and this time sam's standing there. neck twisted. eyes rolled white and then they fill with black. teeth gnashing together with thick black dripping through them spilling between his lips, "you did this.." he hisses. wet vitriol. laced with hisses and gutteral noises in languages that haunt him from the dark. dean screams. and then there's a bang.

round, wild eyes stare at the face that comes into view. 'i broke the lock. you were screaming.' and dean's scrambling up out of bed. half dressed and his palms brushing wildly at his face. "i..uh..yeah.. wow," one swings to cup the back of his neck and he jerks the other one towards the bed puffing out a hasty laugh. brush it off. don't let her see you sweat. literally. "spider! whew... thank god. you busted the lock--wait--you what?" he jerks an impressed brow up. anything to get that vision out of his head. ANYTHING!

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Bobby here in Taxi Driver: okay I'll go to Heaven bc it beats Hell but yous better break me out if you can. I don't want to be there.

Bobby in Carry On: 😀 come join me forever Dean 😀 have some El Sol beer 😀 your dad's just up the road 😀

[dumbasswhatever]

watching supernatural in 2024 is all fun and games laughing at it crazy style until it pulls out the carry on wayward son "the road so far"

[starsstillshine]

carry on my wayward son started playing on the radio while i was reading a spiderdads fic and i started crying LMAO

[attractthecrows]

just finished a mass effect playthrough u kno what that means

[seraphfled]

@thememory || Ask Meme || Attention + Entwine

Dusk had long since fallen before he awoke, a habit developed when he was a mere researcher who had long become infamous for stalking the halls of the Hyperboreia when only those who were enamoured by dusk's sweet embrace dared to awaken. Fingers wrapped in frayed cloth found purchase in rubbing the traces of unyielding slumber from ashen hues as the body slowly rose from a sea of dirt, no doubt something he would have to fix if his dozing travels had delivered him back to Elpis', and her, solitary garden hidden deep where the stars and the sea kissed amidst the never-ending horizon.

The fragrance of myriad flowers drifted amidst the dancing winds, whispering sweet nothing's with their presence, as if trying to guide him to where he most needed to be. Each step shook the weariness from his frame, his soul, his aether reaching out for the abundance of astral aether long since associated with the concept of home. Malleable soil curled around the soles of boots, barely holding themselves with the anticipation of a long overdue homecoming. With every step, more and more of those worn clothes disappeared into the aether, replaced in turn with robes fitting of the convocation’s weary fourteenth seat.

Even riddled with exhaustion gracing his features, his movements do little to slow, shredding off the personage of Azem, of the wanderer as he moves closer and closer to the fenced garden, the haphazard repairs to the fence no doubt the work of Themis or Hythlodaeus in an attempt to get one up after the incident with the grapes and his subsequent disappearance to ensure he wouldn’t have to deal with Lahabrea or Nabriales any longer than professionally necessary.

At the end of the stone path, a feat that lay far beyond the skills of Astraeus who would be Azem, toiled the reward for a journey, months longer than needed even for immortals to whom time was but a suggestion. Were he in any way poetically inclined, the only way he could describe her would be that the very stars that whispered to him had sawn fit to adorn Chestnut hair with a halo of their very essence. Quietly he treaded the path, reaching around to grasp slender digits amidst worn hands.

“Come now Persephone, the time to rest nears, even this beloved garden needs to sleep”

[nootcatt]

"I'm over spn" they said, twenty minutes after glaring at a person's blog who shipped you notp back in the spn days. After saying that, they continued to judge them for three more hours.