ind. blog for
dean winchester
from cw's
"supernatural"
selective | au | 18+

canon diverg.
mutual interaction.
est. oct. 2013
rebooted july 2015

written by freya.


status!

active.
● drafts: 14
● asks: 10 (on 27/07/15)
● accepting new threads !
● open to plotting !
slow & selective replies.



disclaimer!

credit goes to eric kripke & co.

theme, avatar, headers, icons, self promos & other posted graphics are generally mine.


blog music!

"ghost town" by adam lambert
"jet pack blues" by fall out boy

|

updates

♞  ▎┊ JAN. 

     Honestly, she does want to help him out with his situation,
     but with the fact that she had zero knowledge as to how or
     why he wound up at her motel door, there wasn’t really much
     she could do except shrug at him once more like she had with
     every other question he’d shot at her. She feels bad that he’d
     LOST the Impala, however— she knows just how much it means
     to him.

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          “Either that, or you were super sleep-deprived.
           Maybe Sam dropped you off and left before I
           could spot him, I don’t know. But I mean, you’re
           welcome to STAY as long as you need until you
           find the car, I guess. And I’ll help as much as I can,
           if you want.”

           ▎┊《  ▓▓▓     ♞ 

          HAND NUMBLY GLIDES to a descent from the support of the doorpost, the olive burnish of his irises dulling into the distance a PETRIFIED gaze has been hurled to. Absently, slowly, his figure wheels, though the motion of his frame does in no way match the deserted ambient sewed into his features. Wordlessly, he proceeds back inside with automatic steps, a hushed murmur pooling from his strained lips,

                                             ❛   …    fuck me.  ❜

          BEFORE HE CEASES his motion and petrifies his footing, following it with a more VOCAL statement, this time aided by the mild whine quaking the release of his speech.

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                             —-   i think i’m gonna have a panic attack.  ❜

     

♞  ▎┊ JAN. 

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          Eyebrows raise nearly to her hairline before she
          sits herself down in the middle of one of the motel
          bed mattresses, shrugging once even though she
          knows he can’t see it in the state he’s in.

                         “Your guess is as good as mine.”

           ▎┊《  ▓▓▓     ♞ 

          DESPITE THE fact he is faced with not what you may call a particularly EXTENSIVE parking lot, he sure dwells plenty of time in his repetitive search for his beloved vehicle, blindly HOPING that he might have simply missed the impala and that his eyes will eventually land on on it. that turns out to not be super effective and, thus (  still half puzzled  ), he turns around in the threshold, lips twitching as he circles around his word choices.

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                           wh  —–  was i DRUNK ?  

     

♞  ▎┊ JAN. 

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         “I could ask you the same thing.
          ‘Cause you showed up without the
          Impala, and you basically crashed
          on my motel room floor.”

           ▎┊《  ▓▓▓     ♞ 

image

                                     …   what ? ❜ 

          A WHEEZING HURRICANE wheels his feet to a door he nearly tears off its hinges. Cue Dean Winchester’s priorities in 3 …   2 …   1 …

                                where the hell’s m’ car ?!  

     

▎┊ JAN. 

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       Yes, she happened to bring bug spray with her, just in case,
        but even so, it didn’t seem to help much as she was still waving
        her hands around her face to try and smack the bugs away.

              “If Sunday School taught me anything, it’s that
               creatures at the beginning of the world didn’t
               always eat meat and blood and stuff like that.
               That happened after everything else went to shit.”

           ▎┊《  ▓▓▓     ♞ 

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                                     whatta bunch of BULLSHIT.  

        A spew of cursed words grated through the WRATH of his clenched teeth and the singular DEFENSE of hands cruising through the surrounding air aimlessly. Give or take a few draining moments before he ceases – rather, PAUSES – the frantic motion, with a replete swallow gliding down his throat; and verdant irises fill with sparks of INNOCENCE as they flicker back and forth between the frame by his side and a hollow SPOT in the vicinity of his boots.

                             He emaciates the attempt at a throat clearing.

                                         —-   sorry.

                                but, y'know, when lucifer went down,
                                he could’ve taken these fuckers with ‘im.

     

▎┊ JAN. 

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“Agreed. Mosquitoes, gnats, and bugs in general, actually.”

           ▎┊《  ▓▓▓    ♞ 

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                         plus spiders an’ flyin’ assholes an’  —-  CHRIST !  ❜ 

     Cue the almighty glory of a palm WHACKED right against the base of his nape.

                               —   no, not christ;  though, gotta wonder what
                                 goes through a guy’s head when he decides t’ put
                                 down on earth somethin’ that chows on blood.