Ixto beamed at the hunter, chewing on another deep fried pickle while he spoke. He’d forgotten how easy it was to get lost in this man’s eyes while trying to hold a conversation— a strange thing to forget about someone, but the thought passed him over.

           “Me? I had a craving,” he explained, and offered his last deep fried pickle to the Winchester. “It was worth the distance, as I was visiting with someone here as well. I guess we’re just lucky,” the Siren concluded.

           It had seemed like forever ago that he’d first met Dean; it had been something else from start to finish. Like the minute they’d set eyes on one another, they were instantly drawn to conversation. They’d not known each other, but still spoke with the comfort of old friends, leaving Ixto with a craving to know more about him.

          He was drawn from his thoughts when Dean asked another question.

          “I would love a beer,” he smiled. “Thank you. What brings you in to town, Dean? I hope you’re not stirring up too much trouble.”

A duo of fingers served to call attention from the bartender, and he ordered beers for them both before allowing his focus to return to Ixto. While the offered deep fried pickle was certainly tempting, it was met with a shake of his head, "You keep it. Sounds like you came a long way for that."

Promptly, the bartender placed their drinks upon the surface of the bar in front of them, and Dean quickly claimed his own for a deep, needy drink. Brief laughter fell from his lips when, at last, they relinquished the rim of the glass, "Me? Trouble? You know it."

To say that Dean was glad to have once again run into Ixto, even if his instincts told him to be slightly suspicious of random encounters with the same person twice, might have been an understatement. There were few people beyond Sam that he enjoyed conversing with for any length of time, but this was certainly one of them.

"Enough about me. I'm sure you've been startin' plenty of trouble yourself. They say blonds have more fun--I think they're right."

                             the days that his human heart aches for a human tenderness, he turns to his brother and finds solace in the pulse that still thrums under scar tissue. the careful process of hollowing the human body and torturing the soul until it reinhabitated as black, inky smoke was one he, unfortunately, missed; he was still sucking in shallow breaths and adjusting from the pain of death when dean was bloody canine meat in the bowels of the pit. sam killed alistair for what he did to dean, claimed the demon and gave him a job. protect. thats what he always did. that was what dean was good at, lifting a metaphorical shield to keep baby boy sammy from harm. he did it then; he could do it now,  or die. 

                            sam had little remorse, even for his blood stained general, even for his dead mother and his dead father and the girls that used to warm his bed for a night. even for jess. her name is distant; her face, more so. he likes what they do. road trips, an occasional stop for some mortal indulgment dean still enjoyed. burgers. pie. sure, he’ll eat—he had to eat, while the demon did not. but, sometimes, it was human meat. it was bloody, ragged fiber torn from the bone. he liked that too, and he liked the noise the marrow made when his brother would break arms or legs. 

                             ” dean. ”   somehow, he is oddly gentle in mannerisms, despite the ferocity in which he can progress. they’ve left a trail behind them, and its becoming more difficult to conceal the evidence.  ” we have to talk. outside. ”  the bar wouldn’t do. sure, the bartender was kind enough, but he didn’t feel like killing today, and anything that fell upon ears here would spread.

                           There was something oddly nostalgic about the idle chatter of bar patrons, the distant crash of pool balls. Even the smell of beer mingling with that of overly greasy food called forth a sense of pleasantness from deep within the pit of his stomach. It wasn't that Dean was sentimental, he wasn't entirely sure he was capable of it, but his oldest and second most loved form of debauchery never failed to call forth memories of stumbling home, his head swimming and filled with thoughts of the previous night's conquest. Or Sam. Oh, Sam.

                           Calloused fingers coiled about the exterior of his shot glass, and it was half way on the road to his lips when his younger brother's voice called him from the silent anticipation of pleasant burn down his sternum. Rather than to be delayed, he quickly downed the amber fluid before righting himself from the bar stool, a hand upon the small of Sam's back seeking to guide him from the smokey innards of the establishment.

                           The silence of the parking lot was practically deafening  despite the relentless chirping of crickets, but he quickly adjusted, "Somethin' wrong, Sammy?" To say that he felt love for the other man might have been a stretch. He certainly felt something; loyalty, devotion, attraction. To be honest, he wasn't sure what to call it. Sometime over the course of their journey, even brotherly kinship found itself as twisted and mutated as their very souls. Still, concern weighed upon his brow as green eyes matched themselves against hazel ones.

same

And in that moment we were all Cole.

[ ; OPEN STARTER ; ]

    “Dean, did you touch my computer again?”

He turned and faced his brother, showing Dean the screen being frozen on a porn site.

"What? No." Of course, there was no denying the look of pure guilt upon his face when he saw what it was frozen on. Rather than to continue the conversation, he turned to leave the room.

Devil In Me | | gunpowderandsteelhorses | | Closed

"I…I don’t exist?" Jack repeated weakly. The concept that everything he’d been through, everything he’d done…all that pain and heartache and depravity, had just been a story in a book…just words on a page for someone’s entertainment… It left a hollow place in his chest that he couldn’t have put words to if he’d tried.

Jack’s eyes followed Deans to their surroundings and back to the corpse and he shifted uncomfortably. “Are we just gonna leave that there?” he asked uncertainly. It seemed wrong but, at the same time, he really didn’t want to deal with the police. Whether he was real or not, anybody who looked like him at the scene of a stabbing probably wouldn’t be taken lightly.

Flinching ever so slightly as Dean’s hand gripped his shoulder, Jack followed him toward the front of the bar. The first thing he noticed was that people on the street didn’t seem afraid of him. Some only stared, a few pointed, but none of their faces held any horror or disgust. Still others seemed to dismiss him entirely. It was a new experience, to be sure.

As he listened to Dean’s introduction, his eyes grew wide with amazement and alarm. The concept of monsters and demons roaming the streets seemed as much a fantasy to Jack as his own existence must seem to Dean. “And people know about this?” he asked, staring around in wonderment.

He felt a little wrong-footed as he stepped into the bar. Dean went right up to the bar but Jack trailed a few feet behind. People were staring and he felt strange. Hell, Dean was staring. He wasn’t sure what he should do so he stuck close to Dean and kept his head down. “Why are they all looking at me?” he muttered as he finally joined the hunter at the bar.

Dean’s remark sunk in a moment later and Jack’s mind reeled at the implication. “What would a demon want with me? They aren’t even real in my world. Well…as far as I know, anyway…” He swallowed hard, thinking back on those same old worries about Hell. He hoped they weren’t.

"Normally, I like to salt and burn the corpses, but carryin' a body around the city that never sleeps ain't exactly inconspicuous. Gonna have to leave it this time. Anyway, I'll probably be about a million miles from here before they find it." And if they did find it early, Dean was already dead as far as the government was concerned.

"About monsters?" There was no containing his laughter, but he paused his continued explanation when the bartender arrived with their drinks. He accepted one, offering the other to Jack, "No, no. That'd be chaos. Most people are clueless about what's goin' on around them, but there are other hunters."

Dean placed the rim of the shot glass to his lips, downing the whiskey in one quick motion before gesturing to the bartender for another, "As far as what they want with you, could be any number of things. I knew an angel that once unsank the Titanic because he hated that Celine Dion song."

Demons, however, were a whole different thing, "Honestly, I got no idea what you're doin' here, but if demons are involved then my old buddy Crowley is gonna know a thing or two. I use the term 'buddy' loosely. He's a dick." It was a mystery as to why he hadn't yet killed him.

"If I had to make a guess, though, I would it imagine that it has something to do with the Joker. If they're pullin' villains from comic books, you're the one I'd pick. No offense, but you were one scary dude. Maybe they don't know you're on the straight n' narrow."

Which was another problem entirely. As far as why the bar patrons were staring, Dean had a few good guesses about that too, "Maybe it's the punk thing you got goin' on. Green ain't exactly a natural hair color. If anyone asks, you're Irish and damn proud of it. Definitely pale enough."

(via meaty-bicycle)

           He didn’t often hang out in bars. In fact, he usually avoided them on the off chance that hunters were in town. But tonight, he’d had a craving so great that it was hard to stay away. He sat at the front counter, chewing on deep fried pickles with a beer off to the side.

           Ixto hadn’t expected anyone to recognize him there, and least of all, he’d never expected to meet up with Dean Winchester again. When the gruff voice met his ears, the Siren turned to face Dean with a broad smile of recognition.

           “Of course, and I you— Dean, right?” He took the hunter’s hand in his own, giving it a firm shake. “The one with the beautiful car, and fantastic taste in diners.”

While Dean was impressed the other man remembered him, he was even more impressed by the fact that he remembered his car, "Yeah, that's me." For the first time that night, he smiled--if halfheartedly.

"Good to see you hangin' around. You always end up in crappy towns like these or am I just lucky?" Brief laughter emerged beyond the confines of his lips before he gestured at the bartender to order himself a shot of whiskey and a beer to chase it with.

"What about you? Want one? I'm buyin'." Dean didn't often make friends and it was even more rare that he saw them more than once. Hunters didn't operate in the same town twice save for very special circumstances.

Deanmeme: favorite outfits, 3/6 → blue jumpsuit

7x01 - “Meet the New Boss”

And we said NAY, WE ARE BUT MEN!

ROCK

This is like Supernatural in a nutshell.

Until now. >_>

Sorry, Dean.

Reblog if you're taller than 5'9"

Boats to Build- open rp

Benny was up to his elbows in grease and engine parts. It had been a long, long time since he’d found himself lost in the repairs of a boat engine, and he was kicking himself for not doing this far sooner.

It made sense, really. He was struggling more than he thought he would with the temptations of being among humans again. After so long in the cold confines of Purgatory, it probably shouldn’t have been surprising to him that controlling the hunger would be a challenge.

But that was why he was here, fixing up this old shell of a boat in this ghost town of a dock. The distraction of the work and the promise of the open sea- free of human temptations- was a better therapy than he could have imagined.

He was so lost in it that he almost didn’t hear the distinctive rumble of the Impala approaching, heralding the arrival of his road-wandering friend.

He couldn’t help but smile, titling his head to listen; he could just hear the radio playing under the loud engine, and the steady sound of Dean’s heartbeat like a baseline under it all.

He climbed up from the engine room, the early dusk keeping enough light to give everything a soft glow, but not enough to hurt his sun-sensitive skin. He waved at his friend’s approach, and he didn’t realize how much he had missed the snarky hunter until the promise of his company became a reality.

The dull roar of the Impala's engine and hum of classic rock issuing from the speakers were a comfort, forward momentum. The days might have been the same, from blood and gore to the dull ache of battered bones, but it didn't matter as long as he kept moving.

Dean was rarely eager to reach his destination, but the swell of excitement in his chest when, at last, he pulled into the driveway leading up the abandoned dock was undeniable. How long had it been since he'd seen Benny? Sure, their separation was on his terms, but that didn't mean he was satisfied with it. Hell, he wasn't satisfied with much these days.

Finally, the engine cut and Dean emerged from the driver's seat of the Impala, greeted by the vampire's waving hand. Rather than to return the gesture, he closed the distance between them and embraced the other man with a firm hug and a pat on the back before taking a single step back to turn his focus, instead, to the bones of a boat.

"Doin' the vampirate thing again, huh?" Hands dove into the pockets of his leather jacket as he made his way nearer to the work in progress, "Figured you'd have somethin' against the water after..." He didn't continue, didn't need to. He was certain Benny was all too familiar with what he was preparing to say.

Finally, a rueful smile turned up the corners of his mouth as green eyes sought to match themselves against the blues of his long time friend. Purgatory might've lasted only a year, but it felt like much longer.

"Been too long. You been keepin' out of trouble?" Almost immediately, he hated himself for the question. He wasn't here to check up on the vampire. While he promised himself he wouldn't visit like this, he couldn't deny that it was long overdue.

Devil In Me | | gunpowderandsteelhorses | | Closed

Laughter was not the reception Jack had come to expect when people saw him. A puzzled expression was the only response Dean would get for that. How could a single citizen of Gotham, especially one who seemed to recognize him, be happy to see him?

The longer the stranger talked, the more confused Jack became. Something about other universes… Well, he was familiar with the concept of the multiverse. As the Joker, he’d even had his dealings with it from time to time. Even so, the man’s reaction to him didn’t make any sense.

Thinking back over the day so far, however, Jack began to realize that the questions were relevant. Something had felt a little off all day. Then there was the sight of that old tenement building that shouldn’t be there anymore.

"Wait. Stop." Jack held up his hands for silence to think. "Portray? I’m portrayed as a bad dude? What does that even mean? I am a “bad dude” or at least…I was.” First things first, he decided. “I’m not here to blow up the world and I’m not the Joker. Not anymore, at least. I’m just Jack now. Jack Napier. I don’t wanna hurt anybody…”

Jack turned to stare at the world around him. “I’m really not where I belong, am I? I’ve felt it all day but I didn’t understand… Thought maybe I was losing my mind again… Who are you? How did you know about that- that thing? And where am I, if not Gotham?” 

"Yeah, you don't exist here. There's no Joker, no Batman. Hell, no superheroes in general. You're a comic book. Even got a few movies. Some are pretty crappy, but most of 'em aren't that bad. This is New York--about as close to Gotham as it gets." Dean gestured broadly to the world around them before redirecting his focus to the corpse still laying at his feet.

"Look, how about we discuss this over a couple of drinks, huh? It's about time for me to take my medicine." A heavy hand on Jack's shoulder sought to guide him from the alley, and he paused just beyond to check for law enforcement of any kind before he resumed his trek toward the bar.

"Name's Dean. Just because there ain't superheroes don't mean we don't got things that go bump in the night. Demons, vampires, werewolves, a pissed off spirit here and there. Just about the only thing I can say for sure doesn't exist is Big Foot. Me n' my brother, we're hunters. When monsters bite, we bite back."

Upon reaching the entrance of the bar, Dean opened the door and held it open for Jack to enter first. Even now, he looked a little star struck. While he had minimal experience with other universes, he knew they existed, and, to be honest, he'd heard stranger things. After all, did he not have Frankenstein's monster's live--mostly live--body buried somewhere?

Assuming Jack would follow, he claimed a seat at the bar, ordering two shots of whiskey without taking the time to ask his interesting  companion what he wanted, "So, Jack, if you didn't come here on your own, we gotta figure out who did the hokey pokey. Considering your demon buddy, I gotta good idea where to start."

| Open

"Yeah, explain ‘awesome’ to your acid reflux later."

  “You know, you’re lucky we spend half our jobs running. If we weren’t hunters, you’d be one of those home-bound guys stuck to their La-Z-Boy.”

"I don't think I can get acid reflux anymore. Liquor killed all the feelin' down there."

"--Don't knock it. Don't think I'd mind spendin' the rest of my life trapped in a La-Z-Boy."

                                                   ♔-Bᴏʏ Kɪɴɢ-♔ 

❝Here is my hand, my heart, my throat, my wrist. Here are the illuminated cities at the center of me, and here is the center of me, which is a lake, which is a well that we can drink from, but I can’t go through with it. I just don’t want to die anymore.❞

                                                                           —-                                                  Ｃ Ｏ Ｉ Ｎ Ｑ Ｕ Ｉ Ｎ Ａ Ｔ Ｕ Ｓ                                            Independent Sam Winchester RP Blog                                          ✚ 8+ years of roleplay experience. 

✚ Selective [ Ask about OCs. ] ✚ Any format: Paragraph, gif, icon, one-liners…etc ✚ NSFW friendly: Mun is 18+ [ Read Rules ]             H O M E      ||    R U L E S   ||      A S K