#m0tel

[niratias]

show us the bird chief 🤨

Her name is Chicken Nugget (Nugget for short) and she is a 12+ year old rescue budgie who loves spinach and is scared of baths. She is also camera shy so this is the best I’ve got. I don’t know her real age but she was at least 3 when I got her ages ago.

Not pictured: getting her beak reshaped/taken care of 30 seconds later, biting the hell out of me

[godsgun]

@chyremn as castiel, + @m0tel as dean winchester.

there's something tense and sticky strung through the air. it sticks to the roof of her mouth like something to spit out, but she doesn't. she could, if she wanted— all sickly sweet and does-your-hair-always-look-like-that, slapped with a smile that bites more than it barks, but if she did then she's sure she'd be graced with that patented disappointment castiel knows how to wedge into her heart just the right way. whatever. for now, she figures hesitance is the best medium. peering a half-glared gaze around the corner of cas' shoulder, fist clenched around the fabric of his sleeve, jaw set like she's already decided dean is someone she can't stand ... and maybe she can't. maybe there's something solid in him that's as wrong as she feels, maybe there's something shaky in him that she can break apart, maybe there's some sort of clockwork mechanism that'll peel right out of his jawline for her to break. or maybe she just doesn't like change, and dean's a little too different in her routine to bear.

again: whatever. that's a thought for a different day, when castiel's less attentive and mari's more alone and the only thing she's focused on is the reload of her gun and shotgun shells filled with salt. today, she'll bite it all back. swallow it down. manage to lessen her glare by twenty percent, and say: "hi."

[qapsiel]

@m0tel in response to dinosaur pet

                            JACK SQUEALS IN DELIGHT, SO AT LEAST SOMEONE FINDS THIS SITUATION FUNNY. Though Castiel suspects the young Nephilim likes being carried like a handbag more than the triceratops — he cannot see the mini dinosaur, only the floor around Dean's feet. His little legs kick and wriggle as he giggles happily. 

                             Castiel decides to ignore the accusatory tone and walks over to inspect the creature, which is currently trying to escape its toy prison by ramming its horns against the colorful blocks. "This is wrong. Where did you buy the book? The skull and frill were brightly colored to intimidate predators, not this muddy brown. I hope they at least depicted velociraptors with feathers? Show me the book, please."

[rosewiltd]

url typography , for @m0tel

[gravegotten]

@m0tel did not ask for this (technically) but is getting it anyway

Pull the trigger. The words are on the tip of her tongue. She wants to say them, she has wanted to say them to others. Dean at least has follow through. She can count on him to be a decent killer, but then he'll go through medium after medium, how many fakes how many real? And none are as good as her. There is no medium like Lucy Gautreaux, no one who can weaponize death like she can. Can't slip through the cracks of the world to the waiting beyond like her and she needs to be the final stop on this tour if she's not the first. She stares at the gun and at Dean and sighs; sits heavy on the comfortable pillows of her own couch next to Sam. Sam is silent. Sam is dead. Ashen but not rotting and she can bet she knows what's tucked in that bag around his neck. Poor Sam. He looks like a mostly well done wax figure if not for the pallor, if not for the the way she sees his fingers are off color. His lips too. She wants to brush his hair back from his forehead but keeps her hands flat on her lap. "I'm not this type of necromancer, Winchester. I can't bring him back. I can't push him back into that body in any way that would work. He'd still be dead, and you know it doesn't work like this. At best you'd have to start replacing parts if he doesn't figure out a way to leave. He may not even be close. It may not just be a hop over the wall, Dean. It might be a trek he may not even be on any plane I can find. I can try...try to get him to talk with you. Not in a body. But I do need to get a few things so you will have to let me stand up."

[chyremn]

i kicked it by mistake (dean -> beyonce)

trash can went flying with a violent, metallic crash. skidding across the floor ; soaked napkins and mouldy coffee filters spilling everywhere ─ beyoncé stops. knife-sharp eyes lift, pins, and penetrates straight through the manchild that he was.

this wasn't their kitchen anymore. this was a crime scene.

' dean, what is this behaviour ? ' she asks, lethally. sorry, i kicked it by mistake. he retorts back. unwise choice. beyoncé tilts her head just slightly, just enough. eyes glittering.

' you can't kick it by mistake. you will pick it up. '

[picksmusic]

@m0tel / starter call.

" time to pack it up? " is almost a rhetorical question, a mantra, by now. nondescript green, well-weathered, the drab, crosshatched canvas waits with its zipper half-yawned on his bunk. dean's palm snatches up a pair of jeans by the loop & he begins to roll it down to stuff in to fill the edges the rest of the way.

too long in the same place, a little spider-legs scrabble starts under his skin.

( he doesn't bother considering whether it's the too long in one place that makes the unease start scraping against his animal brain or if it's simply a learned behavior, that the next adrenaline thrill is calling because they're looking to go out & meet it )

dean already has the strap half-buckled over his shoulder, jacket pinched to his side by his elbow, by the time he catches his father the rest of the way in the door. " gimme a few minutes to get 'er gassed & ready, then we can hit the road. "

[trickheaven]

@m0tel ;; setting prompts (still accepting) 064. a lighthouse overlooking the raging sea . ( sam again ! )

                            "OKAY, LET ME WALK YOU THROUGH A PLOT." He wraps one arm around Sam's enormous shoulders (wow!!! So firm!!!) and gestures toward the sharp cliffs beneath them. Crooked stairs have been drilled into the hard rock; they lead down to a narrow beach, currently swallowed by waves about 8 feet high. "A shipwreck! Drama! Fighting for your life! Then the guy gets washed up on the shore here. The lady lighthouse keeper—"

                             He swivels them around to point at the red-and-white lighthouse sitting a few yards behind them. It looks very kitschy. "—finds him the next morning, brings him home, and nurses him back to health." Gabriel lets go of Sam to clap his hands. The sharp wind of the oncoming storm whips at his hair and jacket. "Then he thanks her by giving her mind-blowing orgasms. That's basically the plot of my next Casa Erotica. Are you interested in playing the castaway?"