Rules
Muses
Stranger Things
we're not kids anymore.
Jules of Nature
taylor price
trying on a metaphor
Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi
Monterey Bay Aquarium

tannertan36
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
cherry valley forever

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
wallacepolsom

roma★

Kiana Khansmith
Not today Justin
No title available
Sweet Seals For You, Always
🪼
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Uruguay
seen from South Africa
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
@occxltis
Rules
Muses
It’d be so interesting to explore Gideon’s reaction to Robert’s death bc they never had a good relationship but it’s clearly devastating to Alec and Izzy and G adores his siblings
married life sentence starters
if you are sending to a multi-muse, remember to specify the muse that the sentence starters are being sent for .
fluff
“ [Name], will you marry me? ”
“ I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband / wife. ”
“ Happy anniversary, my love. ”
“ Can you believe it’s been a year already? ”
“ I made us some dinner. It should be edible. ”
“ I still get butterflies when I look at our rings. ”
“ I’m proud of the life we’ve built together. ”
“ We really need a bigger couch if we’re going to keep cuddling like this. ”
“ You know I’m legally obligated to steal your fries now, right? ”
“ I married you, not your terrible taste in movies. ”
“ I love you, but if you snore like that again, I’m filing a complaint. ”
suggestive
“ Are we arguing or flirting right now? I can’t tell. ”
“ Close the door. I need my husband / wife to myself. ”
“ You still make my heart race like we just met. ”
“ I love how you still look at me like that. ”
“ Remind me why I fell in love with you - slowly. ”
“ If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not doing the dishes. ”
pregnancy
“ What do you think about us having kids? ”
“ I'd love to have kids with you. ”
“ I don't know how I feel about having kids… What if I do something wrong? ”
“ What if I'm a horrible mother / father? ”
“ I'm pregnant. ”
“ Wait. Are you pregnant? ”
“ We should think about a name for our baby. ”
“ Our son / daughter has your eyes. ”
“ I don't think my genes had any chance of winning. They're a spitting image of you. ”
“ It's your turn with the baby. ”
angst
“ We’ll get through this. We always do. ”
“ I married you for better and worse, remember? ”
“ It’s okay to fall apart. I’m not going anywhere. ”
“ Do you ever think about our wedding day? ”
“ I love you, but I don’t know how to fix this. ”
“ We can’t keep pretending everything is fine. ”
“ When did we stop talking like we used to? ”
“ I’m scared we’re becoming strangers. ”
“ Do you still want this? Us? ”
“ I don’t regret marrying you - but I regret how we’re hurting each other. ”
“ And to prove to myself that this is the end, I taped this over our wedding video. ”
“ i’m making a fake tinder profile to see how gullible guys are, wanna help? ” (dakota to Emma)
Emma grinned up at her aunt and flopped from her back onto her stomach. "That sounds so cool."
Dean didn’t move right away. For a second, the bar—the noise, the hunters, the weight of a dozen loaded guns—just faded. All he saw was his kid in front of him. Not the werewolf. Not the problem. Just his son, worn thin and trying like hell not to show it. His jaw tightened, something sharp flickering behind his eyes before he forced it down, locking it behind that same iron control he used on everything else.
“…How long?” he asked, voice low, steady—too steady. Not accusatory. Not yet. Just measured. Dangerous in a quieter way. His gaze dragged over James again, taking in the exhaustion, the way he held himself like he was bracing for impact. Dean exhaled slow through his nose, then jerked his head slightly toward the back. “C’mon. You’re not having this conversation in front of an audience.”
He turned before James could argue, expecting him to follow—because he would. Dean always had that gravity. Once they were clear enough, his voice dropped, rougher now, less polished. “You should’ve come to me sooner, Jay.” A beat. Then, softer but heavier, laced with something protective that didn’t ask permission to exist, “You don’t go running yourself into the ground alone. Not for this. Not for her alone.”
They were locked in a standoff. James facing Dean (he wasn't sure the man had earned back the privilege of being thought of as his father), Dean facing him, the bar itching to draw on him for a twitch of his finger. His back, his feet, his legs, his everything ached. He wanted to punch Dean in the face. (He wanted to fold himself into his dad's arms and cry).
"Six and a half weeks. Been looking for her for five." He'd given Emma a week before he'd taken off after her. They'd stayed in contact, always talking about something. Never about Dean or what they were missing, but the day to day. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at the tone. It was the enforcer tone, not the comforter tone. Fine, he wanted to repeat the bullshit past, they would.
James followed Dean toward to back room, anger rising with each step. His words pushed mere anger towards rage. "Fuck you. You wouldn't've known she was gone if I didn't come find you. And I wouldn't've come found you if Uncle Sammy didn't force my hand. It's not like you even care."
closed starter for @occxltis ; barkeep!Dean verse
The Dead Man’s Hand was crowded, the kind of night where the air was thick with gun oil, sweat, and whiskey. Every booth was full of hunters, scars, and stories traded like currency, laughter riding just a little too close to the edge of violence. The door creaked open, and the whole mood shifted. James stepped inside, tall and steady, but it didn’t matter. To most of the room, he wasn’t just another face, he was a werewolf. And hunters didn’t see gray. Half the bar went for their weapons before his boots even hit the floorboards.
Dean’s hand slammed down on the bar, the sound sharp enough to cut through the scrape of chairs and the hiss of metal. “Guns stay down.” His voice was low, dangerous in that way that didn’t need to be shouted. A few hunters hesitated. Dean’s eyes burned as he swept them over the crowd. “You so much as twitch wrong, you’ll be the ones bleeding on this floor. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise.”
He came around the bar slow, wiping his hands on a rag, every step measured. His gaze fixed on James, and for just a flicker, the mask slipped, something fatherly cutting through the steel. “This one’s mine,” he said flatly, letting it carry through the room. “My blood. My rules. You got a problem with that, door’s right there. But if you think for a second you’re gonna draw on him in my bar? Then you’re already dead, you just don’t know it yet.”
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the hum of the jukebox. Dean finally stopped in front of his son, jaw tight, eyes narrowing as he studied him. “Jay,” he muttered, softer now, just for him. “Been a long time.”
James knew the moment he stepped into his dad's bar he'd be faced with guns. But he didn't care. He could die, disappear and it wouldn't matter. All mattered right now was Emma.
His hair and clothes were disheveled, like he'd been on the run for months (he had). He may be hunter royalty, but he as also a werewolf, and they didn't tolerate that in their midst. So he ran and he tried not to die and he tried to find his sister.
He was doing his best to look tough but he must have looked like the little boy he felt like.
"Emma's on a hunting trip, and she hasn't been back in a few days."
@occxltis
The morning had started the way most of them did now — quiet, warm, and full of the kind of stillness Dean spent most of his life thinking he’d never deserve. The sun wasn’t even all the way up yet, just brushing the tops of the fields in gold, when he stepped out onto the porch with a steaming mug and a yawn that cracked his jaw. The old German Shepherd at his heel trotted down the steps first, nose to the wind, doing his usual patrol even though the only thing out here worth worrying about had four legs and chewed on the siding.
Dean leaned against the porch railing, elbow braced on sun-bleached wood, watching as the pickup he didn’t recognize rattled down the drive. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Didn’t get visitors much, not unless you counted the mailman who hated his rooster almost as much as he did. The truck rolled to a stop, engine ticking in the heat, and when the door swung open—
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dean muttered, eyebrows lifting as Sophia stepped out like she owned the sunrise behind her. “If I’d known you were comin’, sweetheart, I’d’ve at least put on somethin’ clean.” He straightened, pushing a hand through wind-tussled hair, something between amusement and genuine surprise tugging at his mouth. “What brings you all the way out here? Don’t tell me someone sent you to make sure I’m not lyin’ dead in a ditch. I’ve gone, what, three whole weeks without blowing somethin’ up? That’s practically a record.”
The dog trotted down to greet her, tail wagging hard enough to shake his whole back end as Dean added, a little softer, “…You okay? Or did you just miss my charming personality and world-famous coffee?”
When Dean had announced his plans Sophia hadn't thought anything would come of it. Sure, maybe he would ride off into the sunset (without her) and own a ranch, but probably not.
Except then he did and suddenly Sophia was by herself in a too big house with no kids and no husband. A too big house with too much time to think.
And she got pissed.
So she sat around for months and planned and schemed and tried to figure out her life without him. It was long and painful, but she knew this would be the end of their long and happy marriage.
Sophia stepped out of the car. She looked good, fuck you, you lost me, good. Her jeans were skin tight and her white top showed the swell of her breasts without looking trashy.
"I want a divorce."
Bobby’s brow furrowed deep as he listened, jaw tightening with every word that came out of her mouth. For all her stubbornness, for all that Winchester fire, she looked so damn small standing there, trying to sound older than she was. He blew out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “Don’t you start comparin’ yourself to your brother,” he said, voice low but firm. “Jay ain’t you. Never will be. And Sammy sittin’ in the library with a stack of lore doesn’t mean you get to go pickin’ fights with things twice your size just to prove a point.”
He bent down a little so his eyes met hers, no room for her to look away. “This ain’t about bein’ royal blood or earnin’ your stripes. This life don’t care what family you come from. It chews you up, spits you out, and don’t give a damn about fairness. You think you’re ready, but I’ve buried more hunters than I care to count who thought the same damn thing.”
His hand came up, rough palm settling gently against her cheek this time, softer than his words. “And don’t you ever tell me you ain’t gonna die, like you can promise that. No one gets to promise that in this life. Not me, not your daddy, sure as hell not you.”
Bobby straightened, giving her shoulder a squeeze before letting go. “You wanna hunt? Fine. I’ll train you proper. But you don’t get to run off half-cocked, and you don’t get to measure yourself against ghosts and brothers. You’re Emma. That’s enough. And I’ll be damned if I let you forget it.”
It was hard to avoid what he was saying when he was in her face. Emma frowned and did her best to look over Bobby's shoulder. She'd done this before, small hunts, close to home. And nobody had ever known. It was just this one. This hunt just hadn't gone according to plan.
His words stung her pride. She was good. She could absolutely be legendary. This generation's Winchester. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.
If he wasn't going to let her off the hook, she'd have to bring out the big guns. She pinched her thigh through her jeans, her eyes filling with tears. "Papa, I was just trying to help." It was a weak defense, once that was probably slimy, but it couldn't be helped.
"You're Emma. That's enough. And I'll be dammed if I let you forget it." Her gut twinged with guilt. He wasn't going to yell at her. He was trying to make her feel better and she'd been trying to manipulate him.
Bobby held her for a beat longer than he meant to before setting her back enough to see her face. The cut, the bruises, the way she was trying so damn hard to stand tall. It all made his chest ache. He let out a long, tired sigh. “Damn fool kid,” he muttered, thumb brushing a streak of blood from her cheek. “You’re fourteen, Emma. You don’t ‘have it’ against three shifters twice your size. Don’t matter that you’re a Winchester. You ain’t invincible.”
Her words about Dean made his jaw tighten. For a moment, he looked like he might bark at her, but then his tone softened just a notch. “I ain’t gonna lie to your daddy. He deserves to know what almost happened. But I’ll tell him the truth that you fought hard, that you held your ground, and that you’ve got more grit than most grown hunters I know. What I won’t tell him is that you think sneakin’ off half-cocked counts as bravery.” He gave her shoulder a firm squeeze, eyes steady on hers. “So here’s the deal: you wanna keep fightin’? Fine. But you do it smart. You listen. You don’t get extra points for dyin’ young, kid. And I’ll be damned if I’m lettin’ you prove that point.”
Emma let herself be inspected by her grandfather. She leaned into his touch as he brushed the blood off. Everything she did was meant to make them, her brother, her dad, her uncle, Bobby, proud. And she couldn't even do that. "I would've been fine. Eventually."
The echo of her mom, dead before her kids had reached two, filled the conversation. It didn't help that Emma resembled her, if Jo's hair had been darker. She frowned at his words. "Papa. If you tell Dad, he's never gonna let me go anywhere. Jay's already hunting by himself," which was mostly because James did what he wanted, "and I'm stuck with Uncle Sammy in the library. I come from hunting royalty, I should be able to hunt if I want."
Her frown deepened when he mentioned dying young. "'M not gonna die, Papa." A tiny voice in her head asked if it would it matter if she did. Their world was a boy's club. Every female hunter she'd known had died tragically. Wasn't that the way of things?
@occxltis liked for a one-liner starter
"I ain't y'er dad, but somebody's gotta keep you safe."
Emma launched herself into Bobby’s arms the moment the last body fell. The pair were surrounded by piles of goo-like skin and bodies of the shifters she’d been trying to eradicate. Her clothes were torn, she was bruised, and a cut on her face stung, but she was alive. Everything had been going fine, until it wasn’t.
“Thanks, Papa. I had it! I really did, but then more showed up and…” she gestured around herself. At 14, she was still small for her age. She just hadn’t been able to fight off a grown man.
“Please don’t tell Dad. He’ll never let me out of his sight again.”
☺ What tends to bring out your muse the most? What inspires you?
Hello Shelly, my love!
Is vibes a bad answer? Because honestly, vibes. Sometimes something just hits me and I go ✨muse✨
casually sweet munday meme
♻ Any advice on improving Tumblr RP experience? ⛅ Do you believe aesthetics are another form of expression? ☮ Are you feeling happy and inspired right now? ☄ Has someone ever admitted to being inspired by you? ⚌ Who inspires you? ☸ Do you reblog from the source when someone practices reblog karma or do you follow it? ☯ Do you believe you’re a forgiving person? ☻ Have you ever made someone a promo or a positive shoutout? ♡ How many people do you like? Are there any people in particular that pop up? ☢ What calms you down after negativity? ☠ What keeps you happy? ☘ Is there anything that makes you instantly want to follow someone? ☕ Is it often you hear people complimenting your blog? Characters, writing, theme, icons, etc. ☂ What’s your best RP experience? ⚈ What sweet things tend to happen to you from time to time RP wise? ☐ What trends are you currently into? ★ What fandom do you consider welcoming? ☆ What are some the perks with the fandom you’re currently in? ♦ How has roleplaying on Tumblr improved since you started out? ⚓ Are there any small details you tend to like in roleplays? ⚡ What are the good sides with duplicates? ☀ What’s the best thing about roleplaying? ⛵ What genres do you like writing the most? ☺ What tends to bring out your muse the most? What inspires you?
@themonstersamongus
Sophia glanced at the clock, 8:02. “Well, they haven’t slept this long all week so, maybe?” She’d meant to grab a thing or two during grocery runs during the week but had been juggling the babies.
“I don’t want to fight,” always a good start to a conversation, “but you need to be here for your babies.”
"—eight in the morning and they're still asleep. That's a new one," Dean murmured as he started to pull on his jacket, though paused when Sophia mentioned that he needed to be here for his kids. Obviously he needed to be there for his kids, but hunting was also just as important to him, but not as important as the twins were. Slowly shrugging his jacket on and grabbing the keys to the Impala, Dean turned and looked over at Sophia. "I am trying to be here for them. I am. I can't just . . . not respond to a case. People will die if I do that and I cannot let that happen. Not on my watch." Running a hand through his hair and let out a rough breath as to calm himself and not to let himself start yelling at Sophia, Dean spoke again. "I'll be back." Was all he said before he turned and went up the spiral staircase of the bunker to head to the garage. He needed his head on straight. Not just for himself, but for Emma and James as well. They needed their father in one piece and Dean was trying his damned best by keeping them safe the only way he knew how to.
Sophia frowned at her partner. Now really wasn’t the time to have this fight again. Then again, it wasn’t like Dean was here that often to have the fight. “Yes, but—“ he was gone before she could finish whatever she’d been planning to say. She hadn’t given birth to the twins, hadn’t been there for the first years of their lives, but they were her babies. And her babies deserved a dad that was there. It wasn’t like Dean didn’t want to be there. He was doing his best. She just needed more from him.
Emma was the first one to appear. Her wavy blonde hair was mussed from sleep, sticking up in every direction. She bounced into the kitchen, already chattering about something. Sophia managed to wrangle her into a chair to tame the rat’s nest that was her daughter’s hair. “C’mere, baby. We gotta get this hair under control. We can’t go to breakfast with a rat livin’ in your hair, can we?” Emma giggled. “Mama! There’s no rat!”
The roar of the Impala echoed in the garage as Dean let the Impala idle there for a moment, the man just staring at his dashboard, lost in thought. What would Jo say? That he wasn't doing enough? That he needed to do more? Looking at the gold band on his hand, Dean gripped the leather steering wheel tight before he backed the car out of the garage and peeled down the road, sure that Sophia could hear the roar of the car from inside the heavy metal bunker.
Dean was gone for at least thirty minutes, trying to get enough things for both Emma and James' baskets and tried to make them as equal as possible because God forbid one of them had an extra piece of candy or a better toy than the other. Slowly rolling up to the bunker, Dean pulled into the garage and killed the engine, sitting for a long moment before he pulled out his phone to text Sophia.
[Text: Soph:] if they're up, take them into the kitchen or something so i can set their baskets up
[Text: Soph:] also, i'm sorry about earlier. i'm trying the best that i can
Sophia was busy with both of the babies by the time she heard Baby. James, their sensitive sweet boy, was clinging to her leg as she moved around the kitchen. Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it. “Alright sweets, go get dressed.” She patted Jamie on the back before sending them out of the kitchen toward the bedroom they shared. “In the outfits we picked out!” She called after them, knowing one of the other would decide they wanted to pick their own outfit.
[Text: D]: Sent them back to their bedroom to get dressed. They’ll be there for a minute.
[Text: D]: We’ll figure it out
@themonstersamongus
Sophia glanced at the clock, 8:02. “Well, they haven’t slept this long all week so, maybe?” She’d meant to grab a thing or two during grocery runs during the week but had been juggling the babies.
“I don’t want to fight,” always a good start to a conversation, “but you need to be here for your babies.”
"—eight in the morning and they're still asleep. That's a new one," Dean murmured as he started to pull on his jacket, though paused when Sophia mentioned that he needed to be here for his kids. Obviously he needed to be there for his kids, but hunting was also just as important to him, but not as important as the twins were. Slowly shrugging his jacket on and grabbing the keys to the Impala, Dean turned and looked over at Sophia. "I am trying to be here for them. I am. I can't just . . . not respond to a case. People will die if I do that and I cannot let that happen. Not on my watch." Running a hand through his hair and let out a rough breath as to calm himself and not to let himself start yelling at Sophia, Dean spoke again. "I'll be back." Was all he said before he turned and went up the spiral staircase of the bunker to head to the garage. He needed his head on straight. Not just for himself, but for Emma and James as well. They needed their father in one piece and Dean was trying his damned best by keeping them safe the only way he knew how to.
Sophia frowned at her partner. Now really wasn’t the time to have this fight again. Then again, it wasn’t like Dean was here that often to have the fight. “Yes, but—“ he was gone before she could finish whatever she’d been planning to say. She hadn’t given birth to the twins, hadn’t been there for the first years of their lives, but they were her babies. And her babies deserved a dad that was there. It wasn’t like Dean didn’t want to be there. He was doing his best. She just needed more from him.
Emma was the first one to appear. Her wavy blonde hair was mussed from sleep, sticking up in every direction. She bounced into the kitchen, already chattering about something. Sophia managed to wrangle her into a chair to tame the rat’s nest that was her daughter’s hair. “C’mere, baby. We gotta get this hair under control. We can’t go to breakfast with a rat livin’ in your hair, can we?” Emma giggled. “Mama! There’s no rat!”
@themonstersamongus
Sophia glanced at the clock, 8:02. “Well, they haven’t slept this long all week so, maybe?” She’d meant to grab a thing or two during grocery runs during the week but had been juggling the babies.
“I don’t want to fight,” always a good start to a conversation, “but you need to be here for your babies.”
be proud of your original characters. it's no easy task to create a character from scratch, to make them believable and real and human. it takes time. it takes dedication. so what if they aren't perfect right away? so what if there are still things you're only now figuring out after time? characters evolve, they go through changes and arcs and stories just like real people do. and it's okay if your character develops over time, you don't need to have it all figured out right away. there are some things that will only ever clear up after writing them for a while, finding their voice, and seeing the way they interact with other characters. but this is your character, your creation, and you deserve to feel proud about it no matter what.
Dean was quiet for a long moment, staying how he was and looking at his uniform neatly folded on the bed. He would be gone before the twins e en woke up the next morning and that is what killed him on the inside. Of course he was going to bring his laptop so he could video call them whenever he could, but it wasn't the same as seeing them in person. When Dean was told four years, that made his heart shatter. Emma and James wouldn't be able to see him in person for four long years.
Standing up straight again and running his hands through his short cropped hair, muscles shifting under his shirt, Dean finally turned around to face Sophia. "Nothing special, no," he murmured softly. "If ya wanna invite them over, ya can. I'm not against them comin' over."
Good, he hadn't noticed her distress. She could handle herself privately, where it wouldn't bother anyone. Dean's comfort as more important than any feelings she had.
"Do you wanna see them before you leave? It's going to be--" There was a knock at the door and seconds later, Emma barged into the room. They'd been working on getting the twins to knock on door before they entered a room. Apparently, she needed to add 'wait' to the list of instructions.
"Daddy!" The blonde ball of energy tumbled into her dad's legs, babbling about her day.