Bottom Boy Empire

This blog is dead, mostly. I will no longer be posting spn stuff, I come here once in a blue moon to check in on old friends and fix stuff up (link to my ao3), and answer asks. I no longer write for spn, though…kind of.

I decided to stop posting because…I’m not too sure anymore. I had a lot going on at the time, and still do, and kind of outgrew my interests here? I was like 14/15 when I started this blog and it blew up in a way I didn’t expect, and I met people I still admire. 

I’m 19 now and I still don’t have set interests or know what the fuck I’m doing, I’m trying to figure that out, and that whole change is what triggered me to leave about two (?) years ago. I don’t think I’ve explained in depth about why I left, but pretty much, life and changing and that awkward shift from teenage-child to teenage-adult (???). 

His stomach lurched when the kid slid into the booth beside Sam, close enough that his brother’s arm was pretty much curled around him.

No one has made Dean’s mouth this dry in awhile, it doesn’t rival Sam, but jeez.

“You’ve got to protect me,” rushed, throat smeared in blood.

He’s got a mouth that might put his own to shame, lashes pretty and curled. Dean’s hand isn’t as steady as it should be while holding a gun under the table.

Sam is watching him out of the corner of his eye, arm not moving from behind the panicked boy. God, his brother knows.

He lets Sammy do most of the talking as he breaks out in a sweat, arousal creeping up on him, no warning.

Dean had him tied to a chair not too long ago, whip-smart like his little brother across from him. He had witnessed the fine, blonde hairs stand up on the back of his smooth neck when he dragged his gun across the skin, Sam talking to Eleanor in the other room.

Maybe he reminds Dean of a young Sammy, even though the nazi-heir is 22.

Sam gives the kid the go ahead and Dean lets them get to the car first. He puts the safety back on his gun, tries to calm his racing heart.

This election is very serious. Other countries are laughing at us or are scared for us. The election is all everyone is speaking about today, across all platforms.

I’m not old enough to vote, so I’m just waiting for the results. Lots of things have come to light during the campaign process, racial tensions are high.

Tonight? No matter who wins, there will be violence, or an uproar of some sort. We’re expecting that. It’ll come more as a surprise if there isn’t. It feels like we’re back in the gotdamn 50’s.