M u l t i p l i c i t y

[fracturedlayers]

Multimuse blog for Supernatural, Marvel, and more. Expect horror, violence, gore, trauma, and other dead dove themes. LOW activity, created for my friends.

Rules | Muse List | Memes | IC Writing

Other Muses Supernatural's Castiel | SPN OC Bern | Multifandom OC Fritz | MCU's Loki

Sideblog | follows from @theprisonerofasgard

Written by Bowie

[marvelgifs]

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER 2014 | dir. Anthony & Joe Russo

[bloodsalteds]

don't you dare tempt him, benny. you have no idea what you are capable of right now. dean's hand lifts, palm covering his mouth and muting the moans as he feels tongue and lips and that suction dragging him deeper underneath the waves of pleasure rolling through heavy limbs and dancing along his spine. the insides of his thighs tremble. bowed knees fall open from the lack of any tiny amount of strength left over to keep them raised even the slightest. this is addicting. this is so fucking addicting! heart hammering in his chest. brain spinning on repeat like a coney island tilt-a-whirl gone bonkers--he aches so fucking burning and bright to start thrusting into the feverish heat that swallows him. against the tongue that is velvet wet and so fucking hungrily licking every taste of him off his skin.

again that hardened flesh is toyed with. sends a jolt of pleasure from the point of contact radiating through his chest and back and dean's head tips back against the ground as he sucks in a sharp breath into starved lungs. hips stutter against the ground. dean's nipple hardens, stays that way and the ache the touch leaves behind is almost as consuming as the touch itself. jesus christ!

"benny," he whimpers and barely recognizes his own voice from the pitched whine that lefts spit wet lips. elbow shoved against rock and ground, enough leverage gained to barely lift himself up enough that he can stare down the length of his body at the sight between his legs. how he looks sinking between benny's lips, how he can see and feel it at the same time--the overwhelming sense of this is really fucking happening after years of wondering, years of fantasizing what this might be like.. it's happening and it's happening with a gorgeous fucking vampire of all people! in purgatory. where things go to rot or fight or rot, fight and suffer for eternity. seems even more god damn crazy than watching himself getting sucked off by this man..

his orgasm starts to build steadily. shows in the way the taste of him begins to spill thicker, more consistently onto the tongue lapping at a shaft that hardens and twitches. dean sounds almost panicked by the way he chokes out, "m'gonna come.. please.. please.." slack jawed, his chest freezes and round, emerald eyes stare into gray blue practically begging in silence for him to stay exactly where he is. do exactly what he's doing. PLEASE! is shouted in his head. at last, the crest slams into him with the brute force of a mac truck to the face. dean shatters in whimpers this time. sharp gasps that yank his jaw into twitches and spasms that match the way his whole frame vibrates. looking away? impossible! unable to resist. the shattered pieces of him begin to melt and high after high leaves him flush faced and spilling over benny's tongue--and is transfixed. feeling. sensing. falling. one crash at a time. what breath he had left leaves him in a soft, "i wanna taste you so bad," as the last of it's pulled from him into an eager mouth.

[fracturedlayers]

His name, whined like that? Higher than he's ever heard Dean's go? Christ, if Benny had been getting any kind of relief downstairs, that might have done him in. Spilled him right over the edge. He moaned around Dean's cock and worked him like he needed the man to cum yesterday. His need had coated the inside of the vampire's mouth, and it felt like it wouldn't stop. Dean was so far gone, Benny was pretty sure his reddened shaft would leak like a faucet if he pulled off now.

Benny heard that urgent warning, so very close to fear, and he looked up in time to see those green eyes pleading with him to stay. Dean was a debauched mess. Cheeks flushed, neck and chest flushed with them, hair disheveled, lips still red and swollen. That wordless plea made Benny suck faster and harder, and he felt Dean's body lock. The shaft in his mouth throbbed in time with the hunter's whimpers, and Benny kept his hips pinned to the ground as he sucked and swallowed him down. Dean was helpless to do anything but cum in his mouth, and the thought drove Benny insane. If they got out of this? If they made it out of Purgatory alive? It would be a long damn time before the vampire could get off to anything but what transpired that day. The fact that he'd pinned Dean Winchester down and worked him til he begged, and he begged so pretty.

The inside of Benny's boxers were damp from his own leaking cock by the time he was sure Dean had been wrung dry. He pulled off and made a show of licking his lips with that devil-may-care smile Dean had come to know in their time together. "Good boy." While the hunter was still coming down from that high, Benny pulled himself over his frame again, taking care to grind his concealed erection against Dean as he went. "In a second, baby," he murmured, husky and low, before he tugged Dean into a kiss. Deep, and unhurried. He said taste, he didn't specify where, and Benny took advantage by slipping his tongue into that eager mouth. God could he get used to that. Tasting the inside of Dean's mouth, and feeling those full lips against his. Soon his cock would slide past those lips, and the thought alone made it twitch against Dean.

With some reluctance, he broke the kiss. Benny rolled off Dean, still clothed from the waist down, and he decided not to help the man with that obstacle. He wanted Dean to peel off his layers, and he wanted to watch. "Stage is yours, chief." Benny grinned, propped on his elbows, knees spread, giving a full view of just how bad he strained against the fabric. "Don't try to take in too much. Stay where you're comfortable. Because gorgeous or not, if you throw up on me, I will be upset, and I will never let you live it down." The threat was delivered with a laugh in his voice, and he didn't know it, but he was just as flushed as Dean. Lips just as swollen, eyes just as swallowed by lust. He wasn't going to say it, but if Dean kept looking at him like that? He might just lose his load before it ever met his tongue.

[swordofgcd]

From the first notion of that stream of words aimed in his direction, he heard it. It wasn't as though he'd been listening in deliberately, but whether or not someone uttered his name allowed, if they were thinking about him, addressing him in their head, Michael heard it. He could block it out if he wanted, silence whatever message was coming through, not that he ever had, but he could.

Though it seemed it came straight from the heart. He hadn't gone out of his way to try and appease the young hunter, simply doing what he thought was right, standing by his younger brothers' side, walking his own path regardless of what his Father might want, what Heaven above him would want. He was still trying to keep out of their ire, keep his head down. After all, two Michael's in one universe spelled disaster. Especially given the temperament of one of them.

Finally, the ancient archangel appeared barely a few feet away from Dean, casually sitting against the railing. "I heard you." Michael uttered softly, offering him up a small but ever so genuine smile. "You don't need to apologise, Dean. I understand. You had every right to be suspicious." He couldn't deny it, wouldn't judge him for it, he knew he had more than enough reason to be that way. Glancing out to the view around them, a soft sigh pressed at his chest. "Trust must be earned, not always blindly given. You had your reasons." He turned to face him again, soft brown eyes sourcing the young man. "You can trust me, Dean. I promise."

[fracturedlayers]

After hearing Cas fly in about a thousand times, Dean couldn't help but hear and feel the difference. The wings that landed behind him sounded bigger. Stronger. Despite everything said in prayer, his back muscles locked, and it took a second to turn around to greet those brown eyes. There was no hiding that Dean looked like hell. No sleep, and he couldn't remember the last time he ate or drank water. It was a state he was used to operating in, but the stress of it all cut even deeper than that. It was lined in every cell that assessed the brunette in front of him. Cas vouched for Michael til the Seraph turned blue, but Dean had needed time. Time to accept that the Archangel wasn't going to be his undoing. Either of their undoing.

"There is something I need to trust you with. And I'm pretty sure you're the only one I can trust with this." Dean took a step forward, lips pressed thin for a moment while his chin dipped with a deep inhale. His voice lowered when it spoke again. "I need your word. That come hell or high water, you're gonna take care of Cas. And if I end up somewhere he can't go? Promise me you will hold him back."

Words faltered for a moment, and Dean's jaw twitched as he looked instead out on the lake. It was a good view for the goodbye tour. "... If there's a way out that isn't through, I don't see it. I wish I did." His voice softened, and it carried the weight of exhaustion. "I think Sammy's going to say yes to Lucifer. And if he does? I have to be the one to stop him. Okay, I have to. I was there at the beginning, I should be there at the end. I can't let him die alone." It was a fight to meet Michael's gaze again. "I don't know what you and Cas were workin' on, but we're runnin' outta time..." There was a slight humorless laugh as Dean scrubbed his jaw. "You know, I almost wish it was you. Even if you can't, I know you'd at least try to put me back together when it was over."

[fracturedlayers]

/// what if I added falling skies characters to the multi. What then

[fracturedlayers]

Reconciliation | @swordofgcd

Crazy how a lake could look just like an ocean. Lake Erie wasn't even the biggest, but it still swallowed the horizon like it went on forever. Dean was hunched over the railing of a pier, watching sailboats slide by in the distance. It was chilly out on the water this time of year, he had the long stretch of breakwall to himself. Just him, the wind, the water, and his own churning thoughts.

"... I don't know how to start this, so I'm just gonna." Dean drew in a deep breath, green eyes fixed on the water that matched their hue in the sunlight. "I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop with you. But, I met your alternate face-to-face. And you're not the one I have nightmares about." His gaze lifted to the horizon, squinting in the sun as the clouds parted. "I'm sorry. Okay, I'm sorry. In case you haven't noticed, I don't have much. It's just me, Sammy, Bobby, and Cas. I spent so much time worried you were gonna get him killed, or worse. I needed more than words to know that ain't gonna happen, but you've saved his ass more than once."

Dean's mouth twisted. He wasn't good at apologies, never had been. Most of the people in his life who deserved one never stuck around long enough to get it. "I don't know how much time I got left, so I need..." His head tossed in frustration, leaning back while both hands gripped the railing. "I need to not be doing this long-distance crap. Look, I'm at Miller Road park, off Lake Erie. End of the pier. Can we do this face-to-face? Please?"

[chyremn]

at first, castiel doesn't stop. perhaps he should, there's a flicker of it ; something within dean's voice that hooks under the ribs of his vessel and just tugs. momentum carries the angel two steps further, however, before he halts. invisible thread yanking him back. a quiet exhale leaves through the nose, barely audible, as he remains there with his back to the other. sometimes he feels as though dean is, not necessarily underestimating the capacity of him, but failing to comprehend it, fully. then again, he can't blame him for being human. line of his shoulders rigid as they rise, and slowly, he turns to face him. countenance sharp and raw as lips pressed together come to part.

' i am not running myself into the ground. ' unblinking eyes lock onto dean's, and there's something resembling anger there, but what truly surfaces is less . . . stable. frustration. something close to desperation seeping through. ' you asked for my help. you always do. and i always comply. ' castiel continues, ' and sometimes, that means i cannot be here. there are thousands of people out there who don't have the luxury of one night. '

his head falls slightly to the side as blue eyes sharpen, altering into something almost accusatory. ' demons don't pause their work because you are worried about me, dean. this is what i do. this is what i am ─ and i am not the one you should be worried for. '

[fracturedlayers]

"So, what? You gotta be there for every damn one of them?" Dean's head cocked to the side as thick boots carried him closer. "You gotta stop every bad thing that's happening, every moment of every day? Have you noticed no one else in the god squad is putting in your hours? Because I have."

Was that hypocritical? Yeah. Yeah, it was. Dean was a champion of applying logic and reason to anyone but himself, especially those he cared about. "If it was who angels are and what they do as much as you say? I'd be out of a job, Cas. Sammy would be a lawyer, I'd be in a garage, Dad would be fat and retired, and Mom would still be alive. The only one putting ALL of this shit on you? Is you."

If it really were that cut and dry? Demons wouldn't stand a chance. Angels would be taking them out the moment they reared their ugly heads. Dean wouldn't have grown up believing only in Hell, because angels were nowhere to be fucking found. Sorry, but he wasn't buying that duty-bound, self-sacrificial crap.

"You're not? I'm sorry, who else spending every atom of their fucking existence trying to fix everything? I'm not asking you to stop forever, Cas, I'm asking for one fucking night!" There was a sharp inhale, and a freckled hand settled over Dean's mouth while he fought for composure. "... Sam's addicted to demon blood. Bobby's the closest thing I have to a father, and all he wants to do is put a gun in his mouth. You go radio silent for weeks at a time, and if you die out there? Chances are, I'll never find you. Okay, one night. Just one damn night where everyone I care about is under the same roof, and still breathing. If that's gonna end the world? Then, guess what? We had no chance of saving it in the first place."

[gravegotten]

"The door is easier," she said without any preamble. There was no need for Lucy to play human for Bobby. She didn't need to load up for a road trip she might not be able to finish when the door was right there. There was a moment when she nearly added that it was easier for everyone, but it didn't matter -- Bobby didn't need the long form answers from her. They could talk about doors and all other manner of oddities that swirled around her, sate whatever professional curiosity he had to the extent she could when the more pressing issue hung between them. She observed the house, the haunting of it. Was this what Ig felt walking through her home before? Like she might turn around and see the woman that stayed on his mind? Lucy almost had the urge to call for her, see if she was close, see if she walked that thin line near the veil and pushed the curtains back on occasion. She could do as easy as breathing now, but then that seemed more cruel. So, she kept her mouth shut and opened the first liquor bottle her hand found and poured herself a drink. Whatever it was turned to gin anyway. Lucy didn't immediately sit, she took a sip of her drink, cradled it at her chest while she shifted from one foot to the next, considering the response carefully. "Bad. I think it was very bad for a while, but I got them to at least come by my place more," she said. "It'll keep them safe. No offense, I don't think you wouldn't try, but the house has a mind of its own sometimes and it likes Bern. Have they at least called you? And if so -- what're they saying?"

[fracturedlayers]

Bobby waved a hand toward the old couch, it and liquor were the closest things he had to hospitality. Bad. Not even a bit damn surprising, but it still settled like an icy rock in his gut. Helping Bern had so often felt like an uphill battle. They tried to fall face first into hunting like he would have thrown them out on their ass otherwise. It wasn't easy trying to reach someone who'd spent a lifetime being pushed away. Held at arm's length. Those first few months, Bern treated every little damn kindness he showed them like it had built-in contingency. It'd taken a long damn time to get past.

"They've called. Most of what they say is just, 'I'm sorry,' which don't make it any easier." A drink found its way into Bobby's hand, and he sank back into a seat at his old weathered desk, despite his body telling him he'd been sitting and cramped for too long. "I've been trying to dig up anything I can about keepin' an angel alive in his condition. All I've really come up with is eatin' grace ain't a good idea if it ain't yours. Archangels can get away with it. A cherub or cupid would just explode. Cas is still ticking because he's a Seraph."

For how long was a question none of them could answer. Even Castiel. Bobby was just glad Bern was holed up somewhere, even if it wasn't home where they belonged. "They said they're pissing off a lot of angels trying to keep him alive, and it ain't safe to be here. Knowing them, they're probably stealing grace from every damn angel they find." He scrubbed a hand down his face and washed it down with whiskey. "Almost wish they wouldn't have settled for Sam or Dean instead, but I don't think that would have been any less of a mess."

[bcmbsight]

It still felt strange to hear that familiar voice and not have to drop his gaze down to the lanky young man by his side, but to meet him eye to eye at the same level. Not that he didn't like it, it was just different, growing accustomed to his friend's new towering and domineering stature. "They'll feel the same about you. Give it time." He was sure of it.

Though a soft huff of amusement left him at Steve's admission, gentle blues looking back at him with another of his warm charming smiles. He was used to it, handing those out to those who approached, but only a few got to see the real thing, that genuine warmth behind the gentle curve. "Missed you too." Robbie admitted truthfully, taking the flask back for another swig as he looked out at the landscape around them. "Always will be." The blonde teased in good humour, more than willing to concede to Roger's comment.. "Where would we be without you, Steve?"

[fracturedlayers]

"The tights didn't help my image." Bringing Bucky and the others home sure did, but some guys still saw him as the dancing monkey. He still felt like one half the time. But, the serum made it so he could do a whole hell of a lot of good. For Erskine's sake, he had to try.

"Ohhhh, face down in a gutter would be my guess." Nothing but teasing there, Steve didn't believe that for a minute. "Nah, you guys did alright without me." He reached for the flask again with a quick tilt of his head. "For the most part." There was a pause as Steve drank, and relished the warmth if nothing else. "... I'm worried about Bucky. I found him strapped to a gurney, half drugged. He seems fine, but we've got no idea what they did to him." There had been rumors about some other secret project, similar to the super soldier serum. Maybe the enemy got a hold of it. Maybe Bucky was fine now, and he'd unravel later. It was keeping him up just as much as the war.

"Do me a favor, and just say no to any weird injections." Steve handed the flask back. "I've seen enough mad science for a lifetime."

[zachrp]

ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ RANDOM SETTINGS PROMPTS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT.

a liquor store with barred windows and a bulletproof counter.

a decommissioned lodge overtaken by weeds.

a bathroom in a run-down apartment building.

a roller rink playing the same songs on loop.

a flea market at dawn, vendors still setting up.

a motel pool glowing turquoise after midnight.

a hiking trail where the signs stop making sense.

a dive bar that smells like smoke and regret.

a bridal shop filled with mirrors.

a county fair after the crowds thin.

a courthouse hallway that smells faintly of old paper and stress.

an amusement park in the rain.

a confessional booth that smells like old wood.

a high school gym during a pep rally.

a chapel with the lights off except for candles.

a fire lookout tower miles from anything else.

a laundry room humming with fluorescent lights.

a city rooftop slick with rain.

an arcade humming with old machines.

a bowling alley with sticky floors and neon lights.

a gas station at the edge of nowhere.

a fallout shelter forgotten by time.

a chairlift stalled above the slopes.

a church basement set up for a meeting.

a newsroom just before deadline.

a basement stacked with old boxes.

a desert highway shimmering with heat.

a funeral home parlor arranged too perfectly.

a brewery patio strung with cheap lights.

a physical therapy clinic that smells like antiseptic and rubber bands.

a greenhouse fogged with humidity.

a community garden at sunset.

a prison visitation room divided by glass.

a tattoo parlor buzzing late into the night.

a photography darkroom glowing red.

a summer carnival at night, lights too bright.

a power substation crackling with electricity.

a toll booth lit like an aquarium.

a half-abandoned shopping mall with only one store still open.

a city park at sunrise.

a holding cell with peeling paint.

a rest stop bathroom off a desolate highway.

a rental cabin buried in snow.

a costume shop crowded with masks.

a city planning office full of maps.

a college dorm hallway echoing with laughter and shouting.

a ghost town baking under the sun.

an underground nightclub where the bass rattles your ribs.

a security office watching too many screens.

a pawn shop cluttered with other people's memories.

a wake held in someone's living room.

a quiet cul-de-sac after a storm.

a recruitment office in a strip mall.

a courtroom bathroom where no one speaks.

a courtroom with the jury absent.

a sauna where the air is too thick.

a summer camp cabin long after the campers left.

a video rental store frozen in time.

an evidence room packed floor to ceiling.

a judge's chambers after hours.

a speakeasy hidden behind a false wall.

a cemetery at dusk, cicadas screaming.

a public restroom lit by flickering fluorescents.

a psychiatric ward common room with bolted furniture.

a tide pool exposed by low tide.

a storm cellar during a tornado warning.

a natural history exhibit after closing.

a zoo maintenance corridor behind exhibits.

a museum storage room full of artifacts.

a firing range ringing with gunshots.

a locker room echoing and empty.

an aquarium tunnel at night.

a karaoke bar at its most unhinged hour.

a suburban backyard during a barbecue.

a stairwell no one uses.

a junkyard full of stripped cars.

a hotel elevator stalled between floors.

a police station break room with stale donuts.

an abandoned warehouse tagged with graffiti.

a hockey arena during overtime, air sharp with ice and spilled beer.

a shrine built by someone who wouldn't let go.

a car wash tunnel swallowing a vehicle whole.

a haunted house attraction mid-season.

a movie theater lobby after the last showing.

a roadside attraction shaped like something absurd.

a dog park during golden hour.

a muddy riverbank after heavy rain.

a courthouse stairwell where voices echo too loudly.

a school parking lot under buzzing streetlights.

a planetarium during a private showing.

a cheap motel room with floral bedspreads and a flickering lamp.

a roadside diner at 3 a.m., neon buzzing, coffee burnt.

a city bus idling at the end of the line.

a penthouse balcony overlooking the city at night.

a wine cellar beneath a historic building.

a lifeguard tower at night.

a municipal pool pump room.

a tailor's back room full of pins and fabric.

a public swimming pool drained for repairs.

a fenced-in yard littered with dog toys.

a thrift store where the air smells like dust and old perfume.

a witness stand under harsh lights.

a crowded subway platform just before the last train.

a piercing studio that smells like disinfectant.

a beach boardwalk after tourist season ends.

a tow truck yard lit by security lamps.

a loading dock behind a closed business.

a recording studio cluttered with cables.

a barber shop mid-conversation.

a radio tower hill overlooking everything.

a classroom long after the final bell.

a drive-in theater with a cracked screen.

a fire escape overlooking an alley.

a passenger ferry cutting through fog.

a hospital waiting room at 2 a.m.

a pharmacy open all night.

a mechanic's garage smelling of oil and metal.

a hallway between two locked doors.

a public records office that no one visits.

a pet adoption center during feeding time.

a crematorium hallway humming quietly.

a border crossing checkpoint at night.

a locker-lined hallway in a community center.

a ski lodge during a whiteout.

a courthouse records archive underground.

a water treatment facility humming endlessly.

a forest trail choked with fog before sunrise.

a playground after dark.

a train platform dusted with snow.

a radio station during the graveyard shift.

a military barracks just before lights-out.

a front porch with a single rocking chair.

a mom-and-pop ice cream parlor on a scorching summer's day.

an emergency room hallway curtained off from sight.

a small-town grocery store minutes before closing.

a farmer's market just as it opens.

a lake dock at dawn, water perfectly still.

a nail salon filled with chemical sweetness.

a bus terminal that never quite sleeps.

a library corner no one ever uses.

[bcmbsight]

@theprisonerofasgard sent: ❛ If we get arrested, I’m blaming you. ❜ | @fracturedlayers from Steve

"Are you expecting us to get caught?" The blonde mused as he peered down at his friend, a wide charming smile gracing the curve of his lips. He knew full well that sneaking out of the barracks would get them in a lot of trouble, especially if they were caught with a flask of whisky, but given the darkened days that loomed over their heads, why not? They needed a break, and he knew that Steve could do with a little relief off his shoulders as well.

Perched on a rock, the pilot took a swig of the flask before offering it over to Steve. "If we do, I'll happily take the fall." He assured him, gesturing the flask again. "Drink. Enjoy yourself a little."

[fracturedlayers]

"You have to. Everyone likes you better." Steve's smile was warm, genuine in a way only his two closest friends ever saw. It was still weird as hell to be eye level with Robby. Almost as weird as taking a swig of whiskey that would have knocked his tiny asthmatic ass into next week just months before, and knowing he wouldn't even feel it. Maybe the whole bottle would give him half a buzz, but his metabolism destroyed anything less.

"You know I missed you, right?" Summer blue eyes turned to meet Robby's and that smile remained, mingled with something close to relief. "You and Bucky. I hated that I wasn't strong enough to follow my best guys to war. I mean, who's been keeping you in line, huh? That was my job." And Bucky kept Steve in line, which really was a two-person job. Circle of life, or whatever.

[fracturedlayers]

What's one more kid | @exussus for Carter

Maybe Bobby had spent too much time with Sam and Dean, especially Dean, but he knew the look. And seeing Benton chew the boy out for doing his job, but apparently not good enough, the look only got worse. For someone who never wanted kids, Bobby sure knew when one was desperate for approval, and not finding it anywhere. I never found it either, kid. I turned out okay. John Carter looked about twelve, but he did up his stitches better than Bobby could have. If he'd realized just how many scars were from the hunter stitching himself, he hadn't mentioned it. Which was appreciated, he'd heard that lecture enough. It'd be easier to come in to the ER to get fixed up if he could explain half the shit that landed him there, or afford the bill.

"Don't let 'im get to you, ya did fine." Bobby turned his arm a bit to look when Carter went for something else off the tray. "You've got a good support system at home, at least, right?" Fishing, but he'd know in an instant if the kid was lying. Bobby hoped at least the kid had a home, if he didn't have parents who gave a damn.

[fracturedlayers]

𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 . | accepting

∗ 44﹕ sender  aggressively  shoves  past  receiver . | @chyremn

Dean's head cranked skyward, eyes lodged as high as they could go without rolling back, and there he stayed while Castiel stalked past him like a celestial bulldozer from where Dean had made the APPARENT mistake of trying to corner him. Blasted backwards over a decade and right into his teenage shoes, trying to handle an irate Sammy, because John wasn't there to raise him that day and if he was? He'd be gasoline on the fire. Dean may not have had kids of his own, but he raised one, and it was times like this he had to remind himself that Cas wasn't all that different from a teenager himself. Dealing with high emotions for the first time in his long life, and all at once.

"Are you done?" His head lowered, chin dipped and eyebrow raised as he watched the angel out of the corner of his eye. "Because that's kinda my whole point here, Cas, you're done. You've been globetrotting for like a month. I keep thinking I'm gonna find you in a ditch off I-90, because you fell right out of the sky." He turned then, ready and willing to square up with celestial energy older than the planet itself. "You wanna help us? Then stay HERE. Recharge. How about just ONE night where you don't disappear, and we don't have to worry about you." The sun was setting in the horizon beyond the windows as green eyes tried to hold his gaze. "If you wanna disappear for another six weeks in the morning, fine. We both know I can't stop you. But you're runnin' yourself into the damn ground, and believe me? It is like concrete when you finally land."

[fracturedlayers]

𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 . | accepting

o8﹕ sender  shows  up  at  receiver’s  home  late  at  night . | @gravegotten

Bobby was still up. Slept less and less every year, even more so after taking a bullet to the dome. It grazed him, sure, but deep enough that he'd spent a hell of a stint in the hospital. Recovered fine physically, but he'd left those sterile walls to find his world turned inside out. Dean trapped in Purgatory, Bern dead. Sam offered his apologies and RAN. Bobby loved that boy, but he was still livid that he LIED. Purgatory coughed up Dean a year later, and coughed up Bern a year after that. Not dead, but trapped, because Sam didn't want anyone in his shrinking family to crack open that wretched doorway again.

The hunter's head snapped toward the entrance, a hand reaching for a shotgun until he saw the familiar tall and red-haired silhouette of Lucy. His heart jumped into his throat for a second, because someone walking in with a glaring absence at their side usually meant one thing. Problem is, Bern can't die. And the look on her face didn't spell grief. Bobby heaved a hell of a sigh, scrubbed a hand down his face, and gestured toward the stash of liquor on the opposite wall. "... Can't promise I got anything to your liking, but help yourself. You actually travel, or did you just pull that magic door shit?"

Much like Lucy's home, Bobby's was a mirror. Once a gorgeous farmhouse, most of the fixtures original. What hints of wallpaper one could see had once been cheerful and feminine, a loving compromise with his wife, painstakingly put up to make her happy. Clearing a space to observe it now would reveal the print faded and dulled. Like her memory. In her absence, obsessive paranoia had closed in, like a fog descending into a low-lying town. Shelves that had once held trinkets were stuffed with books of lore. Every flat service was drafted and ready to fight the silent war that followed her death. Knowledge, guns, knives. The armoire that once contained recipe books and photographs was now an apothecary of spell components and their descriptions. Bit by bit, the house had become Karen's bones. An exposed rib cage filled with everything Bobby could have used to save her.

"How bad is it?" He poured himself a glass of whiskey, and gestured toward the couch for Lucy to sit. "Haven't seen Bern in weeks. I can't convince that kid t' come home."

[fracturedlayers]

Scenario Prompts | accepting

6) receiver is in a vulnerable state and the only person they trust is sender,  who approaches them to try and help. | @m0tel for John

Ears ringing, vision sliding every which way but up, Dean dragged himself with clenched teeth across the dirty factory floor. His right leg was broken, had to be, the way it refused to move and lit up like hellfire when he tried. Tuck and roll was tried and true—except when a blow left you half concussed before you got shoved over a railing. Worst part was? He could hear the fuckers above him leaving. Satisfied that a teenage hunter with a busted leg would still be there when they got hungry later. The ground floor was padlocked with chains from the outside, it'd taken a climb to the second floor to even get in. Dean hauled himself between two machines, back to the wall, gun aimed at the only path to him. If he was dying today, something was dying with him.

Or maybe not. Dean swore he blinked and the factory got darker, but he had to have passed out. Movement ahead of him pulled the gun up in an instant, aimed in the darkness to the best of his ability. Which wasn't much. Dealer's choice what cleared his vision faster, the fresh wave of pain in his leg, or the voice of authority that rang out at the end of the machines. "... Dad?" Trying to sit up straighter pulled a sharp groan of pain that bent him almost double. "Dad, that better be you." Because Dean was going to empty that clip if it wasn't.

[ohisms]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 .    (  a  collection  of  100  nonverbal  action  prompts .   mature  and  potentially  triggering  themes  are  present .   add  “ + reverse ”  to  swap  assigned  roles .)

∗ o1﹕ sender  tucks  hair  out  of  receiver’s  face . ∗ o2﹕ sender  offers  receiver  a  bite  from  their  fork . ∗ o3﹕ sender  places  their  feet / legs  in  receiver's  lap . ∗ o4﹕ sender  offers  receiver  an  earbud  to  share  their  music . ∗ o5﹕ sender  comforts  receiver  in  the  aftermath  of  a  nightmare . ∗ o6﹕ sender  gives  receiver  company  in  the  hospital . ∗ o7﹕ sender  wraps  their  arms  around  a  hysterical  receiver  to  calm  them . ∗ o8﹕ sender  shows  up  at  receiver’s  home  late  at  night . ∗ o9﹕ sender  falls  asleep  leaning  against  receiver . ∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . ∗ 11﹕ sender  runs  their  fingers  through  receiver’s  hair . ∗ 12﹕ sender  invites  receiver  to  dance . ∗ 13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver . ∗ 14﹕ sender  places  their  head  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room . ∗ 16﹕ sender  pushes  receiver  against  a  wall  to  kiss  them . ∗ 17﹕ sender  and  receiver  cook  together . ∗ 18﹕ sender  comes  to  receiver  after  being  injured . ∗ 19﹕ sender  sits  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 2o﹕ sender  lifts  receiver's  chin ,  invoking  eye  contact . ∗ 21﹕ sender  overtakes  receiver  in  combat . ∗ 22﹕ sender  finds  receiver  [ injured / bloodied ] . ∗ 23﹕ sender  straightens  an  article  of  receiver’s  clothes . ∗ 24﹕ sender  crawls  into  bed  with  receiver . ∗ 25﹕ sender  rolls  their  eyes  at  receiver . ∗ 26﹕ sender  lights  receiver’s  [ cigarette / joint ] . ∗ 27﹕ sender  is  caught  wearing  receiver's  clothes . ∗ 28﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  with  a  pillow . ∗ 29﹕ sender  writes  a  note  on  receiver’s  skin :  [ note ] . ∗ 3o﹕ sender  wraps  a  blanket  around  receiver’s  shoulders . ∗ 31﹕ sender  runs  and  jumps  into  receiver’s  arms . ∗ 32﹕ sender  shoves  receiver  out  of  anger . ∗ 33﹕ sender  hovers  over  receiver’s  shoulder  as  they  complete  a  task . ∗ 34﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  somewhere  they  shouldn’t  be . ∗ 35﹕ sender  curls  up  against  receiver  in  their  sleep . ∗ 36﹕ sender  is  found  drunk  by  receiver . ∗ 37﹕ sender  throws  an  item  of  sentiment  bitterly  at  receiver . ∗ 38﹕ sender  joins  receiver  in  the  shower . ∗ 39﹕ sender  is  caught  following  receiver . ∗ 4o﹕ sender  traces  one  of  receiver’s  [ scars / bruises ] . ∗ 41﹕ sender  twines  their  fingers  with  receiver’s . ∗ 42﹕ sender  barges  into  receiver’s  home  unannounced . ∗ 43﹕ sender  kicks  receiver’s  shin  beneath  a  table . ∗ 44﹕ sender  aggressively  shoves  past  receiver . ∗ 45﹕ sender  kisses  receiver’s  [ forehead / cheek ] . ∗ 46﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  out  of  harm’s  way . ∗ 47﹕ sender  is  found  sobbing  by  receiver . ∗ 48﹕ sender  locks  receiver  out  of  their  room . ∗ 49﹕ sender  brings  receiver  [ coffee / tea ]  in  the  morning . ∗ 5o﹕ sender  rests  their  forehead  against  receiver’s . ∗ 51﹕ sender  plays  a  song  for  receiver  that  reminds  them  of  them :  [ song ] . ∗ 52﹕ sender  takes  a  [ punch / stab / bullet ]  meant  for  receiver . ∗ 53﹕ sender  buys  receiver  a  drink  at  a  bar . ∗ 54﹕ sender  needs  receiver’s  help  getting  in  the  bath . ∗ 55﹕ sender  and  receiver  cross  paths  in  the  kitchen  late  at  night . ∗ 56﹕ sender  twists  receiver’s  arm  behind  their  back . ∗ 57﹕ sender  winks  at  receiver . ∗ 58﹕ sender  is  found  collapsed  by  receiver . ∗ 59﹕ sender  prevents  an  injured  receiver  from  getting  up . ∗ 6o﹕ sender  claps  a  hand  over  receiver’s  mouth  to  silence  them . ∗ 61﹕ sender  cages  receiver  against  a  [ wall / the floor ]  with  their  arms . ∗ 62﹕ sender  storms  away  from  receiver  during  an  argument . ∗ 63﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  sleeping  in  receiver’s  bed . ∗ 64﹕ sender  [ applies / touches up ]  receiver’s  makeup . ∗ 65﹕ sender  throws  receiver  into  a  wall  during  combat . ∗ 66﹕ sender  dances  sensually  with  receiver . ∗ 67﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  across  the  face . ∗ 68﹕ sender  places  their  hand  on  receiver’s  leg  while  driving . ∗ 69﹕ sender  pulls  a  chair  out  from  under  receiver . ∗ 7o﹕ sender  catches  receiver’s  wrist  when  they  turn  to  leave . ∗ 71﹕ sender  leaves  an  intimate  mark  on  receiver . ∗ 72﹕ sender  beats  receiver  in  a  video  game . ∗ 73﹕ sender  and  receiver  stand  in  stunned  silence  after  a  fight . ∗ 74﹕ sender  cares  for  receiver  while  they’re  sick . ∗ 75﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  on  a  hike . ∗ 76﹕ sender  is  caught  snooping  in  receiver’s  things . ∗ 77﹕ sender  and  receiver  cuddle  while  watching  television . ∗ 78﹕ sender  throws  something  aggressively  at  receiver . ∗ 79﹕ sender  creeps  up  behind  receiver  to  scare  them . ∗ 8o﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  shopping  together . ∗ 81﹕ sender  helps  receiver  [ dye / style ]  their  hair . ∗ 82﹕ sender  draws  receiver  into  a  kiss  by  the  back  of  their  neck . ∗ 83﹕ sender  is  discovered  having  a  panic  attack  by  receiver . ∗ 84﹕ sender  accidentally  injures  receiver  during  sparring . ∗ 85﹕ sender  grabs  receiver  roughly  by  the  hair . ∗ 86﹕ sender  brings  receiver  to  their  knees  during  combat . ∗ 87﹕ sender  shows  receiver  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ∗ 88﹕ sender  winks  [ seductively / mockingly ]  at  receiver . ∗ 89﹕ sender  yells  at  receiver  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air . ∗ 9o﹕ sender  helps  receiver  patch  up  a  wound . ∗ 91﹕ sender  holds  receiver  as  they  cry . ∗ 92﹕ sender  silently  and  angrily  points  receiver  towards  the  door . ∗ 93﹕ sender  gestures  for  receiver  to  sit  down . ∗ 94﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  into  their  lap . ∗ 95﹕ sender  cradles  receiver’s  face . ∗ 96﹕ sender  tackles  receiver  out  of  the  way  of  danger . ∗ 97﹕ sender  has  hidden  an  injury  from  receiver ,  and  receiver  finds  out . ∗ 98﹕ sender  confronts  receiver  about  their  unhealthy  behavior . ∗ 99﹕ sender  proposes  to  receiver . ∗ 1oo﹕ sender  has  just  died ,  receiver  finds  out .

[m0tel]

"Don't mention it." Seriously. That was some scary shit. He flips to the next page, margin to margin an overwhelming flood of abbreviations he can't parse, and zeroes in on the stuff they bothered to color code red. Looks rough, on the basis of a traffic light system. "Hey, cholesterol's the bad one, right?"

What a specific weakness to target with a spell. It dawns when he replaces the board into the plastic box, and reclaims the rollie stool for a seat, that bloodwork might bear a little more significance than they're used to. Dean defaults to the KISS method, and pulls out his phone.

"If it makes you feel better, looks like Sam's still playing treasure hunt." He won't read the text aloud, a fairly damning nothing here, but he's wearing his most practiced neutral face. Bobby won't like this next part. "But, uh .. crazy idea. We consider the non-zero chance this is a little more, um .. ?"

How does he put this delicately?

"I mean, we been doing a lot of hard living, lately, Bobby. That's all I'm saying. Maybe nothing got you, maybe something's just .. catching up."

[fracturedlayers]

The look Dean got for his little observation was not angry, or indignant. Definitely a flavor of caught, but not the one he'd expect.

"... Look." Bobby's face scrunched the way it always did when evidence turned up that he really was just human, and not just the gruff lore machine they came home to once in a while. "This ain't... my first rodeo at the doctor. I started goin' again when John died." Hadn't been fun, but hadn't been half as damning as he'd expected. "I've been cleanin' up my act for you two, alright? Yeah, I'll admit, losin' you put a damper on things, but not all of it."

It'd been a hard four months, and more liquor than he should have drank, but not near as much as he'd gone through after Karen. Sue him, he wanted to stay around for Sam and Dean, because they didn't exactly have a whole lot of family left. Right at that moment, the door open and a doctor walked in.

"So, Mr. Singer—first, leave your IV alone." A pointed look was thrown toward the hand that was fidgeting with the line. "Second, we figured out the problem is you were prescribed two medications that should never be mixed. We need to have one hell of a word with your primary, but we can get you straightened out no problem."