taylor price
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
if i look back, i am lost
Andulka
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.
Mike Driver
d e v o n
NASA
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
izzy's playlists!
Monterey Bay Aquarium
RMH
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Cosimo Galluzzi
JBB: An Artblog!
KIROKAZE
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@dcwildwestfest
DeanCas Wild West Fest 2025
All 16 entries in the reverse DeanCas Wild West Fest are up and ready for binge reading. Thank you so much to all the of this year's participants for making this another fantastic round! Check out the complete collection now on Ao3!
Pulling back the quilt and covers revealed nothing, and neither did lifting the pillow. But when Krissy slipped her hands underneath the straw mattress, she felt a small, solid shape that had been tucked away out of sight. She gripped it tight and pulled it out from under the mattress. It was a journal — handsome and leatherbound, but scuffed in the way of things that saw frequent use. Krissy hesitated. What if the writings inside the journal were of a personal nature? Mr. Winchester surely wouldn’t appreciate having his innermost thoughts exposed to scrutiny. Yet what alternative did she have? There were no other clues to be found, and if she were to return the journal unread to its hiding place, she would always be wondering what she might have learned from its pages. Having made up her mind, she settled into a chair at the cabin’s small table and undid the leather strings that kept the journal closed. She opened it to the first page and found it covered in hectic, cramped writing. It’s been a month. Holy shit, a month. I figure if anyone was coming to get me back right away, they would’ve done it by now. So I’m doing the “Dear Diary” thing and keeping a record of what’s happened to me, in case I never make it out of here at all. Sammy and Cas, this is for you. Just gotta figure out a way to get it to where you’ll find it, a hundred years and change down the line. Fuck. Anyway. I meant to tell you how I’ve been since I got here. Where do I even start?
- Missing
by @friendofcarlotta, art by @morokollisyo
Available Now On Ao3!
Quickly, Dean haggles with the small woman regarding price for the items, trying to get the best bargain for what he could purchase. Even though he was sure he got the best deal, he still feels a little outdone, especially when she smiles that knowing smile and happily puts the money in the till. Granted, he did have to promise to bring Sam to do the pickup tomorrow and they had to be there before eleven in the morning. Shrugging the feeling off, he turns around, almost plowing into Cas again as the stocky man was bent over looking at a small selection of books and journals. Catching a healthy view of the man's backside as it was bent before him had his palms sweating even heavier than when he shook hands. Clearing his throat and mumbling a hurried “Excuse Me”, Dean scoots around the man and hastily walks out the door of the mercantile, not sparing a glance backwards through the glass once outside. Hopefully he doesn't think I'm rude or stuck up after walking out so quickly. Gah, hopefully the other two don't realize that I was staring AT HIS ASS! A very nice, tight ass that I would just…. Woah now, I don't even know the man, or that he is like me. Don't put yourself in anymore of an awkward position than you already are, jackass. Dean thinks to himself, his face scowling at the air around him as he heads up the dirt street to the jailhouse.
- Claim On My Heart
by uber_kitty, art by @thestarsmakemedream-art
Available Now On Ao3!
"So, you finally decide to move on?" Elkins gives him a once-over. Dean has a red bandana wrapped around his mouth. He's changed into a new shirt and pants -- new for him, old for the clothes -- dirt and stains making him look exactly like the rest of the folks in the place. The look of a pilgrim, Dean realizes. He doesn't answer. Just strides straight into the room, heading directly for the bartender they've grown familiar with over the past couple of days. Dean lets out a breath, tasting a tad of bitterness lingering on the tip of his tongue. Drawing the pistol from the holster at his waist in a smooth swing, he fires three shots into the ceiling. Some girls scream behind him. Elkins looks at him, reaching for something hidden beneath the bar stand. Supposedly a shotgun. "I suggest not." Dean shifts his aim toward him. The bartender stops moving, hands slowly rising. "What's this about?" The old man is still surprisingly chill, not even showing much curiosity. Just how many gangsters has he run into before? Dean finds himself wondering. "What every outlaw around here wants," he says, aiming for a deep, grave voice. "You got any hidden treasure around here? Gold would do too." "At least leave me a name to pass your story along?" Elkins slowly reaches for a side drawer in his gaze. The gold he offers includes some of the very pieces they paid for their meals over the past few days. Dean has to push down the unease. "Eastwood. Clint Eastwood. Best gunner in the western world," Dean tells him, with a mocking smile.
- Long Way Home
by @junesirius, art by @hexentaenzerin
Available Now On Ao3!
How could he just say hi after all this time of absence? How could he just come back and announce his presence after everything he had gone through since the last time he had been here? James Novak had been like a father to him during the summer Dean had spent here. Had treated him kindly and patiently, seeing Dean’s outbursts of rage for what they were — a cry for help; one last ditch effort from a lost, scared boy who didn’t have anyone else to look up to. That summer had been the happiest in Dean’s life, and he might be losing his mind right now, but he hoped that counted for something. James would take him once again. He would help Dean just like he had back then. So Dean forced himself to get the fuck up and made his way up the three steps of stairs, holding most of his weight against the railing, before standing in front of the door. He could not stop shivering, but he feared this time it had nothing to do with the rain or the blood still oozing steadily beneath the makeshift bandage. Willing his legs not to buckle beneath him, Dean raised one hand and knocked, gulping the nervousness and despair filling the back of his throat with bile as he waited for another small miracle to happen. Only it wasn’t James Novak who answered the door; instead, a much warmer set of blues met him when the door finally swung open. The same shade Dean had been missing for all these years, the same expression, the same tousled hair. The same lips Dean had once savored and no matter what life threw at him, Dean had held onto the sweet memory of that kiss. “C—Cas...” he croaked. “Dean?” came the gravelly voice, tone low and tinged with disbelief. Dean ached to smile, to express how it felt like his long-dormant heart was beating for the first time in years. But darkness was taking over at last, and before he knew it, it had pulled him under, and he passed out.
- When Wild Hearts Collide
by @casblackfeathers, art by @witchy-worm
Available Now On Ao3!
Dean shoved himself away from the car, fumbling with the key to lock her before stumbling towards the door. The closer he got, the more of the noise washed over him, Dean staggered at what seemed like a wall of noise. After the Empty and its soundless explosion, everything felt too loud. Dean felt his fingers twitching, ignoring the impulse of them. Sitting in the car would be more of the hollowness and he desperately wanted to fill it up. He wanted it all to stop because they had failed. Again. Dean almost flung the door open, stopping himself just before he sent it back into the wall. He braced himself for the eyes to turn to him. It was far too early to start drinking, so there was only a handful of people to stare at him. Dean barely gave them a glance, a habitual counting of bodies in case things went wrong. Seven with the bartender on the first sweep. Eight on the second. Dean tensed, letting the door swing closed behind him with a much louder bang than intended. A few people jumped, but Dean couldn’t focus on them. Everything in him had moved to the man in black sitting at the bar, daintily dipping chips into queso. His breath got caught in his throat, Dean stuck in place until Death turned around, his thin face doing something that might have been called lighting up before he set the chip down and raised his hand. “Dean. It’s been awhile.”
- With Us You Will Ride
by @eachainn, art by @deliciousblizzardshark
Available Now On Ao3!
As the bucket beneath Dean’s feet is kicked away and the noose tightens around his neck, it's over. Or it should be. While Dean fights for his death, a shot sounds, and a mysterious stranger grips him tight and saves him from certain death. Blowing out the lights that kept him going. An eternity of fathomless torment. Endless. Infinite. Vast. Until it wasn’t anymore. Until it stopped. Dean soared as his weight was lifted from him. Two hands gripped him tight, carrying his earthly form for him. Allowing him to rest. Allowing him to let go. A being of light was staring at him. Guiding him. The pain remained, but it was over. When his feet touched the ground, wood splintered and another shot cut through the night. Dean crashed to the ground, hitting it hard, and everything went dark. He groaned as he slowly came back to himself. Something pricked his back, but that was only a slight discomfort compared to the rest of his body. Shouldn’t Heaven be more comfortable than this? Dean coughed, and nearly fainted again. Only Hell could be worse. But he had been there, hadn’t he? He had already gone through it, and landed here. Wherever *here* was. It could still be Hell, though, or maybe Purgatory. Everything was hurting. He was trapped in a nightmare, unable to move without unspeakable agony shooting through his body. His lids felt like they weighed tons and tons. Yet, if he wanted to wake, he just needed to open his eyes— He couldn’t. They were already open, staring into endless darkness. Son of a bitch! He was so fucked. He was… What? Dying? Dead? A ghost, haunting the Earth till the end of time? Whatever he was, he was alone. In the desert. Unable to even lift his arm, or his little finger. Each breath was agony, but there was air filling his lungs. Slowly but steadily, his mind cleared. Dean tensed as a branch snapped behind him. Clouds of smoke drifted through the air. He heard a fire sizzling. The rustling of a coat. Alarmed, he sat up. Tears filled his eyes as a sharp pang shot through his shoulder and a pop sounded through the night. A piercing cry escaped his lips, only increasing his agony. His panic was back in full force. Even without the noose around his neck, breathing became impossible while the steps approached, closer and closer. Coming to take him.
- Eight Coils and a Length of Rope
by @seidenapfel, art by @medicatedmaniac
Available Now On Ao3!
The weight of the last few days weighed more heavily on Dean than expected. He’d meant to stay up and stand guard, but the freshly caught hare in his stomach, and the warmth and crackle of the fire lured him to sleep. He dreamt. A man he’d seen on a train platform once with his wife and daughter, down in Illinois plains, stood a few feet ahead of him. Dean was back there, watching the coach cars with envy as he prepared to hop the boxcars once again and move on to the next hunt. This hunt hadn’t brought much prosperity: instead, he was graced with a bruised body, an empty stomach, and an aching heart. He watched the family, and the man’s handsome face, yearning for just an ounce of connection. Yet when the man looked up, it wasn’t with the piercing blue eyes he’d held in his memories—it was with the effervescent glow of Castiel’s eyes. Dean jolted awake, freezing when those same eyes glowed directly above him, closer and more massive than they had ever been. He held his breath, unbidden tears streaming down his face as he stared into their bright glory, standing stark against the drapery of night. He held his breath until his lungs burned, until the eyes finally faded from his vision, leaving only the afterimage burned on his retinas as proof they were ever there. He gasped, sitting up and taking a swig from his flask. It appeared as though Garth’s theory was right—Castiel was interested in him. What it wanted, though, was a mystery.
- Shasta
by@entropic-saudade, art by @onowey
Available Now On Ao3!
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he interrupts glibly, “I heard my name.” In his best ‘coping at a faculty gathering’ manner, he bypasses the much taller (and glowering) Sam Winchester, and approaches the person that must be Sam’s brother Dean. Dean Winchester, the gorgeous man that stopped his breath and tugged at his heart (and other parts of him). Damnit. He wills himself to be professional. “Hello, Dean. You are Dean Winchester, aren’t you?” He waits for Dean’s nod, and continues. “I’m Dr. Castiel Novak, but I’d be honored if you’d call me Cas. I really appreciate you leasing the cabin to me for the summer. I think it’s amazing that you’ve gone out of your way to make every possible accommodation a person might need.” He holds out his hand and Dean takes it. “Yeah, okay, hiya Cas. It’s, uh, nice to meet ya. Sorry about assuming–” “You don’t need to apologize to me. I appreciate your efforts, I promise. Although a horse named Link? Is that like Link from Zelda, or is it like the Missing Link?” Cas dissembles, not only because Dean’s face is still flushed, but also because the feel of Dean’s hand clasped with his has restarted the fire in his lower belly. He’s not sure that his own face isn’t as flushed as Dean’s. “Oh, heh, neither.” Dean chuckles, but his eyes are locked on Cas’. “I got the horse from a rescue. He’d been used to pull this old guy’s car–something like a 1970 Lincoln Continental, if I remember right–around until the guy died, I guess. So they just called him Link.” Cas sees a twinkle in Dean’s eye, and there’s that tongue peeking through those plush lips. Oh, no. Is Dean Winchester flirting with him? “You’re lying to me right now, Dean Winchester.” And I’m playing with fire, Cas thinks, because I’m flirting right back. “No,” Dean says, “Yes, but no. I do have a horse named Link–”
- Dean Winchester’s Way
by @blackhorsedances, art by @witchy-worm
Available Now On Ao3!
Dean wakes up with a jolt, his body slumping down against the wall behind him. His head aches, and when he presses his hand to his forehead there’s a strange pain he can’t identify that pulls at his side. Something is wrong. His mind feels split open, but something is being siphoned in instead of out. There are things he knows. He had a horse named Penny when he was a child, a roan troublemaker who was as affectionate as a dog. He had three older sisters who doted on him. He had been grazed by a bullet recently, his side still wrapped in bandages under his clothes. There was a silver pocket watch sitting on his nightstand that was not his and he was becoming increasingly certain there was an angry spirit attached to it. All of that was true. But none of that… none of that was Dean. He had a brother named Sam, and a car named Baby, and he wasn’t left-handed with a well-groomed beard. He touches his face with an unfamiliar hand, though he already knows what he’ll find. This is not his face. He stands up from where he’d stumbled upon his return to consciousness, though he is not sure that he meant to. He watches as his body moves through what must be its normal tasks, though he is not controlling it. Things are.. Confusing. His mind is still his, he knows that, but there’s nowhere for it to go. Whoever this is, he’s not possessing him. And it’s not as though he’s possessed, either, because it’s not his body. It’s as though he’s watching a very immersive movie, or playing some sort of video game. He’s experiencing everything that’s happening but he’s not entirely sure it’s happening to him.
- Meet Me Down Where the Broken Hearted Stay
by @alulangel, art by @kayliemalinza
Available Now On Ao3!
Samuel took a deep breath and tried a different approach, "You're still young, Mary. You can still have a wonderful life. I truly believe that sending the boys West will benefit everyone." "You just want to be rid of Dean and Sam because they remind you that I married John without your approval. You want to banish your own grandchildren, named after you and mother. I've managed to pay for their needs and Dean and Cas sell newspapers which helps. And I made a deathbed promise to Amelia to watch over dear Castiel." "Mary, think back to your own childhood, before we came to America. You had hills and fields to run and play in and clean air, don't you want the same for the boys? Out West they can have more chances to make something of themselves and not be condemned to working in airless factories from sun to sun and never seeing the light of day or selling wares in the street trying to scrape by. By letting them go you will actually be fulfilling your promise to Mrs. Novak." Dean heard his mother sigh. "I don't want to lose my boys," she pleaded. "I'm' sorry, Mrs. Winchester," the voice of the strange woman spoke at last. "This truly is the best for the children. Your sons are half-orphans and we can find them homes with loving families who would welcome them with open arms." "Will they be able to stay together?" Mary asked. "Well, that is not always possible, but the boys do get a say about which families they go to," the woman said. "We just need you to sign this document saying that you waive your rights to the children and that they can find new families," the strange man's voice added. The sounds of Mary weeping carried out into the hallway. Followed by the sound Samuel Campbell sternly whispering to his daughter. Dean couldn't make out any of what was said until his mother once again spoke, "Can I at least see them off?" "Of course," the lady's voice answered. "Our next train leaves for Kansas tomorrow. We'll send someone by to collect the boys you may follow and say your goodbyes if you like. Rest assured, Mrs. Winchester, this is the right decision for all concerned."
- Searching For Family Finding Home
by @ravenfuchs, art by @thestarsmakemedream-art
Available Now On Ao3!
They just finish washing up and getting dressed when Dean hears Baby whinny’ing outside, so he looks out the window to see a man with a white beard with a rope around her neck trying to get her to follow him. Dean nearly jumps out the window, but decides that it would be better to just run down the stairs with Castiel right behind him. When Dean pushes the door open, he draws his weapon and points it at the soon to be dead man who thinks he has a right to steal his Baby. “You have about 5 seconds to let go of my Baby or I’m going to paint the dirt with your blood.” The man lets go of her and just holds his hands up, his lips pulled up in a sneer. “Well, if it isn’t Dean Winchester here to save the day.” “I’m sorry, have we met?” He’s not sure how this man knows his name. “I’m Asmodeus and we haven’t had the pleasure, but my boss asked me to give you a message.” “Oh yeah, and who’s your boss?” “Azazel. I believe you’re looking for him. He’s the leader of the Yellow Eyes Gang. You can’t beat us, so why don’t you just hand over Castiel and I’ll be on my way.” Dean looks at Castiel who seems absolutely terrified. Is there something Castiel isn’t telling him? How does this guy know his name? “What do you want with Castiel?” “Didn’t he tell you? Castiel is one of us. Azazel just wants back what he rightfully owns.” Dean glances at Castiel again who is hanging his head, avoiding eye contact. Dean doesn’t care if it’s true or not. He’s not giving him over to this creep, not happening. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Dean. I’ll just go. I’m sorry I lied to you,” Castiel tells him as he starts to walk towards Asmodeus, but Dean puts his hand out and presses it against Castiel’s chest. “You’re not going anywhere, Cas, but you’re gonna tell me what’s going on once I take care of this guy.” “You don’t stand a chance against me, boy. I’m the best gunslinger in the west.” “I see you haven’t heard everything about me, then. It’s a shame, really, that nobody told you there’s someone better than you.”
- When The Fates Align
by@avonlady42, art by @twinone1221
Available Now On Ao3!
The sun hung low over the endless plains, casting a golden haze across the town of Redemption. Dust kicked up in lazy swirls, drifting between weathered wooden buildings that withered with the weight of time. A church bell, cracked but still defiant, tolled faintly in the wind. The sound echoed across the desolate streets where life moved at a crawl and the daily plight of survival pressed heavily on everyone’s shoulders. Dean Winchester rode into town on a battered chestnut horse, the brim of his hat tilted low to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. His duster was stained with the grit of a dozen trails, and his boots had seen better years. Redemption looked smaller than he remembered—more tired.
- Faith and Frontier
by @spnisthewayoflife, art by @szlez
Available Now On Ao3!
Castiel sighed. He knew he had burned bridges, but he also knew it was worth it. He stepped outside into the sunshine and squinted. “Sheriff, you’re gonna need your hat!” Garth, the deputy, came running after him with the wide brimmed leather hat. Castiel thanked him and placed it on his head, instantly able to see better with the brim’s shadow covering his eyes. He would have to get used to so many things here For one: he wasn’t just a police sergeant here. Over here he was the law. The shiny badge on his chest told everyone that what he said was to be taken as true. That did not sit very well with him, but he would strive to uphold the law and not abuse this power. He turned back to Garth and gave him a curt nod. “Thank you, Garth. Remember to update the wanted posters. I brought the latest with me. You can’t leave any old ones up unless the new one is exactly the same. If the picture or the reward has changed, it needs to be known.” Garth gave him a thumbs up and went to grab the stack of paper from Castiel’s desk. Castiel sighed again. He would find his target. He had to find him. First stop, the house of the local lawyer. He tugged at the waist of his jeans and stepped onto the dusty street. Time to get going.
- Lassoed Your Heart
by @hectatess, art by @verobatto-messy-art
Available Now On Ao3!
All Castiel had taken away from the schedule that was sent to his phone by Meg was that he was supposed to meet up with his so-called “Huckleberry” at 9 am at the barn. After a light breakfast, he made his way to the barn and as per se he was five minutes early. Checking his phone again, that he was indeed at the right place, he heard footsteps approaching. Turning around, he was met with not only the freckles he had fantasized the night before, but also a set of the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Blushing and scolding himself as the memories of his shower experience came to his mind, he held out his hand to the other man: “Good morning. I am Castiel Novak. I’m your Huckleberry!” And with the first touch of Castiel’s hand, Dean’s mind went blank. “My name is Dean Winchester. I’m an aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach and frisky women.” Did he really just say that, to Castiel fucking Novak - the hottest dude on the planet? “Nice to meet you Dean. I was told you were to show me the ropes around here?” Castiel tried to conceal how puzzled he was by Dean’s sudden confession. “Erm, yeah, right.” Dean stammered.
- DEAN WINCHESTER's (in)famous Cowboy Action Shooting
by @adunaphel-the-quiet, art by @obsessionsart
Available Now On Ao3!
As soon as his brother, Gabriel, had learned of Castiel losing his job, he had immediately started working on probing Castiel to move into the ranch with him. Truthfully, though, it hadn’t taken much convincing. It hadn’t been hard to leave his life behind. After all, it wasn’t like he had that much to hold on to. Immediately after arriving at Rustic Haven Ranch, Gabriel had deemed it the perfect moment to throw a party in Castiel’s honor. So now here he was, feeling like an elephant in a room full of fragile, expensive dinnerware sets or something of the sort, all ready to shatter if Castiel moved the wrong way. Sighing, Castiel turned to the finger foods table to skim his eyes over the choices available, settling for a carbonara mini quiche. “Heya, cowboy,” came the rural Midwestern drawl, startling Castiel from his pitiful reverie. Spinning on his heels, Castiel found himself face to face with the most mesmerizing human specimen Castiel had ever laid his eyes upon. The man was young, younger than him. He had a cocky, lopsided grin that gave him a boyish appearance. It was rough around the edges, but still incredibly charming. Beautiful was the right word, Castiel thought — the man wasn’t dressed like most of the guests at the party, setting aside the cowboy hats and western attire in favor of a beige plaid shirt open over a solid black t-shirt, faded bootcut jeans, and logger style boots. His light-brown hair was styled in a slightly spiked hairdo. He had a straight nose, high cheekbones, and adorable freckles dotting his skin. But what Castiel found the most stunning were his eyes, and how they sparkled every time he caught a glimpse of the artificial light. “H—hello,” Castiel stuttered after he had spent much longer than socially acceptable staring at the man before him. “I'm Dean,” he said, his smile growing wider, probably realizing the peculiar effect he was having over Castiel. Clearing his throat and feeling his cheeks heating up at how embarrassingly obvious he was reacting to this stranger, Castiel forced himself to glance away as he said, “Hello, Dean. But I'm not really a cowboy.
- A Cowboy For Me
by @casblackfeathers , art by @szlez
Available Now On Ao3!
Dean raised an eyebrow, leaning toward Sam. “Guess downtime’s over.” The brothers exchanged a glance, and quickly finished their drinks. Then they rose from their table, making their way toward the commotion. “What happened?” Sam asked, addressing one of the men supporting the injured stranger. “La oscuridad,” the man said, his voice shaking. “It’s out there. It’s hunting us.” “La oscuridad?” Dean echoed, turned to look at Sam and translated. “The darkness? That’s helpful.” Before the man could respond, the doors burst open again, and a woman swept into the room. She was striking, with dark hair pulled into a loose braid and a woven shawl draped over her shoulders. Her eyes, sharp and piercing, took in the scene immediately. “A un lado,” she commanded, and the crowd parted for her. She knelt beside the injured man, her hands moving with practiced precision as she examined his wounds. “Necesito su nombre.” “That’s gotta be la curandera,” Dean murmured and rubbed his right forearm. “Why do you think she’s asking for the man’s name? Sam shrugged. “No idea.” The men around her gave her a name and last name before giving her quiet and space. “Think she knows her stuff?” Dean asked his brother, wondering when this curandera would bring out the cure. Sam gave him a look. “You want to go ask her?” Dean smirked. “Not really, no.” The woman began chanting softly, her voice low and melodic. She waved a bundle of herbs over the man, repeating his name over and over, the sharp scent of sage filling the air. Dean’s expression shifted as he watched her work, the memory of his own brush with a vampire’s bite flashing through his mind. When she pressed her palm to the man’s forehead and murmured, “Regresa a nosotros,” the room seemed to hold its breath. “Regresa.” The man stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. A collective gasp rippled through the saloon. “What the hell was that?” Sam asked, stepping closer. Dean stared at the woman, not believing how she’d just saved a man of vampirism with only a few words. “She was asking him to return. It seemed to be some kind of… soul-calling thing?” The curandera’s sharp gaze snapped to him. “You’re not from here, vaquero” she said, rising to her feet. “Who are you, and why are you in my town?”
- La Espada de los Ángeles
by @twinone1221, art by @morokollisyo
Available Now On Ao3!