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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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hello vonnie
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@godsmessenger
Today, Dean hears a dog barking in the distance and is briefly brought back to being hunted by hell-hounds. Sam, noticing his brother's reaction, starts to calmly recount his trip to the store and joke about some of the strange interactions he had. In a few moments, the anxiety has passed and they decided to go back inside and start working on dinner.
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any take on age gap relationships (like early 20s early 50s not 30 and 12)
40-50yo men love to approach me
I would like to add this quote also
βDeanβs a bit of a pool shark and also a bit of a gambler. It doesnβt really show it all the time, but itβs definitely implied that there are poker games and pool matches that they can win some money on. And who knows? Deanβs a promiscuous kind of guy. Who knows how he drums up the funds that they use?β
-Jensen Ackles in an interview with TV Week (2008)
"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition"
or whatever gay people say
w*ncest dni I watched s1 from start to finish for the first time it's crazy how much they lash out at each other but dean is also devastatingly transparent about how lonely he was (still feels) and how much he missed his brother ough. sam telling comatose dean that he can't die when they're in the process of becoming brothers again this is what this show is abouttttttttttt i need to slap john winchester
It's a little after 1:30 in the morning, and you're tired, but your baby is crying. You don't know how after six months of this that you've gotten so used to it, because crying in your life usually means danger, but it's so routine you don't really think about it anymore. It's not your first rodeo after all- you've got a four year old snoring down the hall. You don't know how you got so lucky, that after everything you've been through you're here now with your loving, hardworking husband, and the two boys you adore more than anything.
You walk to your baby's room but your husband is already there, it's okay, he's taking care of it. You know that baby is in good hands, because God, he loves those boys, loves you. Everyone knows it. You're ready to go back to sleep.
But the tv is on.
You can hear it from a story up, and maybe he was watching it before he went to check on your youngest, but something doesn't feel right. You didn't hear him come up the stairs. There's this sour feeling in your gut that you're used to listening to, and it says check. You're probably overthinking it, but it's late anyways, so you head to turn it off. It's about time you both got some sleep.
You walk downstairs to turn off the television. Your husband is asleep in his recliner.
You need to get to your baby, right now. You don't have time for a weapon. All you know is your baby is alone with a stranger who broke into your house and you don't know if he's already up and gone.
Your baby is still here, but the man is too. And when you look eachother in the eyes, you realize you know him. You know why he is here- to kill you.
And that's it.
It is a cool night in late fall, and you are burning to death. You are pinned to your roof, bleeding, and the space around you has gone up in flames. You are in agony- but that isn't the last thought you have.
No- you think the last thing that you will ever think about is the look on your husband's face when he saw you- right before the flames caught. The devastation, the terror.
But your real last thought is about your baby beneath you, screaming. You're not a woman who thinks God gives a shit, but you pray to whatever listens that your babies will be okay. The world around you fades to nothing, and you are dead.
And then you wake up.
You wake up, alive, unharmed, not a burn in sight, but you don't know where you are. This is not your house. Your husband isn't here.
But you are not alone. There is a man five years your senior telling you that he is your baby boy. Another almost a decade older than you telling you that he is the four year old you cut the crust off of toast for less than a day ago. Only it wasn't half a day ago, it just feels like it was, because you were dead, but now you are alive and it is over 30 years into the future.
They say they love you, but you don't know them, not really. You may have known a version of them once upon a time, but they are older now. Older than you. They've lived a whole lifetime without you- these are not the same babies you held in your arms what feels like only hours ago. It's disorienting, terrifying. You want to hold your babies, and you want your husband- the love of your life- but he is dead. He is dead, and you are alone in a future where the only place you had left in this world was memories.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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It's a little after 1:30 in the morning, and you're tired, but your baby is crying. You don't know how after six months of this that you've gotten so used to it, because crying in your life usually means danger, but it's so routine you don't really think about it anymore. It's not your first rodeo after all- you've got a four year old snoring down the hall. You don't know how you got so lucky, that after everything you've been through you're here now with your loving, hardworking husband, and the two boys you adore more than anything.
You walk to your baby's room but your husband is already there, it's okay, he's taking care of it. You know that baby is in good hands, because God, he loves those boys, loves you. Everyone knows it. You're ready to go back to sleep.
But the tv is on.
You can hear it from a story up, and maybe he was watching it before he went to check on your youngest, but something doesn't feel right. You didn't hear him come up the stairs. There's this sour feeling in your gut that you're used to listening to, and it says check. You're probably overthinking it, but it's late anyways, so you head to turn it off. It's about time you both got some sleep.
You walk downstairs to turn off the television. Your husband is asleep in his recliner.
You need to get to your baby, right now. You don't have time for a weapon. All you know is your baby is alone with a stranger who broke into your house and you don't know if he's already up and gone.
Your baby is still here, but the man is too. And when you look eachother in the eyes, you realize you know him. You know why he is here- to kill you.
And that's it.
Idk write who's pov thisπ
mmmmmnmmpizzasauce
MISTER BIG WEED BIG MONEY BIG VODKA
the bunker has a record player πΆπΈπΏ
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
hands
@ellebumblebee
FANART 4 FIC: One Crowley is quite enough, thank you very much, by elle_bee_64 [T] Complete.
My opinion about the work:
It is a short crossover between Supernatural and Good Omens that made me really happy to read (though Good Omens IS one of my favorite shows, so maybe its just favoritism...). The characters are on point and the context of the accidental summoning of the wrong Crowley is really really funny.
It features drunk Castiel, Dean calling him angel (one of my favorite headcanons) and kisses late into the night. Loved and bookmarked.
Kudos.
Hope you liked it! Thank you for reaching out and have a good day.
happy destiel wedding anniversary to those who celebrate
Happy pride month from me to you.
Happy gay month
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
So Dean definitely made him and Sam paper toys all the time as a kid. We know he's a good artist- I don't doubt it's from him drawing cars and paper dolls and little puppets and whatever he could make with his hands to make his Sammy smile. There's paper and a pen in almost every hotel/motel room, or atleast a pen and napkins. He must have made so many little things on his downtime- I bet he was a doodler. I bet when he was in school all of his margins were filled with little drawings and he drove his teachers nuts. I bet he drew cars and girls and horses and lots of cowboys, I bet over the years he got better at looking at things and being able to remember them and put them onto paper.
Just. Artistic Dean, okay?
