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#of course the first trial was killing a hellhound and of course the second trial was saving someone from hell and then purgatory #<< ...oh. oh. #jesus. #how many times have i watched s8 and it just took listing to get it #well hot damn. #all those failures capped by one more failure #delish #if that ain't the story of #sam winchester #spn

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Love classic gaming

#disco elysium

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yves olade, the slaughterhouse

(part one)

#christ alive ava #i know i've reblogged this before #but this slaps SEVERELY #let's get you to read more poetry #more slappage may ensue... #spn

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jaheira canonically being a deadbeat mother 27 payments behind on child support who when faced with the apocalypse sent one kid a cryptic seven word text that was like “sorry. get out” and then didn’t talk to them again because she was busy giving life advice and playing catch with the third bhaalspawn she found in the trash somewhere until the party stumbles on her house and kids entirely by accident is so captivating. what is her problem

#not even a deadbeat mom but a deadbeat babysitter #like she is Not Involved #hysterical #if parenting were like that i might consider it #bg3

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Still got it.

#the dweebiest ;-; #spn #sweetheart

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my favorite love language is trying, actually

#;-;

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In the season 3 DVD extra Scene Specifics: Dream a Little Dream of Me, Kripke revealed that Dean’s confrontation with himself in his dream was initially supposed to be a confrontation with his father where John would “browbeat” him. However, this had to be changed due to the fact that Jeffrey Dean Morgan was busy filming the movie Watchmen at the time.

SPN Wiki for 3.10 Dream A Little Dream of Me

#oh boy oh dear #every time i hear a kripke plan got thwarted i think 'thank god' #bc talk about restriction making for better work #luckily john didn't need to use a bat #he could do it with a look #spn #the perennial problem of john winchester

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Marvin would like everyone to know that he has feetsies

#excellent news thank you marvin #bear

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Sam + catching the keys 🔑

#losing more hand-eye coordination with every concussion :/ #sad :/ #spn #sam winchester

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#cloud causing strife part 1/?

#love story of all time #final fantasy vii

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unfriendly reminder that this is what sam and dean looked like when sam left for stanford

#delights #and we were expected to think dean hustled *pool*? #c'mon now #spn

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#yeah #bg3

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Happy Terry Pratchett Day! 🐢🐘🐘🐘🐘🫓🌎🌌🌌🌌

#<3 #gnu terry pratchett

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Dean just taking a minute once they’re back in the car | 11x17

#this episode is not my favorite by any means #but this moment makes it all worth it #just that little bit of quiet #and how kind sam is with him after #to not make him admit it out loud #spn

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the point of no return

#dragon age #art #how miserable for these people who exist at the fulcrums of history

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haunt me, take any form

#ah man #lovely #spn

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Hip against the table, that gets his attention. “Hey.”

Sam looks up from his notes. “Hey?” Quizzical, with his eyes slipping away for a split second to check the clock on the far wall. “I thought you’d come get me at six.”

Dean shrugs one shoulder. “Guy can’t change his mind? It’s a free country.”

That gets him one of those puppy frowns, some frankenemotion of amusement and annoyance, with some suspicion thrown in the mix. “Well, I’m not done.”

Dean is already pulling back a chair, legs scraping over dark grey carpet floors. “That’s cool, I’ll wait.” He sits, chair groaning as Sam shrugs and returns his attention to the book in front of him. Not even a ‘sure, whatever’.

But that’s fine, that’s cool. Dean can wait.

He looks at the wall, watches the clock tick away silently at the next minute. He looks at the carpet floors, wonders how many stains have soaked into the carpet and if any would show up under black light. He looks at the books, tries to guess their topic without moving in closer. He looks at Sam.

The seams of his shirt are pulled tight, crinkling a little. It’s Dean’s, used to be, some vague shade of dark blue that always looked better on Sam. Rolled up, too, the ass, and stretched over his biceps. His forearms are tan and strong, he’s fidgeting with his pen as he reads. The rhythmic click-clack of his pen should be annoying, but it just draws the eye to his long fingers. When Dean flicks his gaze up, it sticks to the shadows under Sam’s collar, the dip between his collar bones. Shoulders, the golden shimmer on his chin where the neon light catches in his afternoon stubble. His Cupid’s bow. The mole on his cheek.

“Hey.”

Hum, no real answer. Sam flips a page, circles something in his tattered spiral notebook.

“Hey.” Dean kicks his chair.

“What?” Annoyed, this time. Sam glances over, long lashes and a furrow between his brows.

But Dean is leaning in already. One hand rests on the table, crinkling paper under his palm. The tip of his nose brushes Sam’s cheek, then he fits their mouths together.

Sam tastes like Sam, like a day at the library, like dusty carpets and the scent of books. Like the aftertaste of coffee, like neon lights and surprise. Dean nips, coaxes. His neck aches, his lower back pulses with pain, but he doesn’t pull back until Sam returns the kiss, until he rests a warm palm on Dean’s cheek and everything tastes like Sam, Sam, Sam. Until the book slips off the table and bounces on the carpet floors. Forgotten.

[i hate your phone, throw it away // I wish it had never even been invented]

#cute #always here for a rigid examination of how hot sam is #wincest