Manhandling symbol starters

Send one for your muse to…

★ - drag my muse by the arm ⁂ - grab my muse by the front of their shirt, possibly shoving them back ✱ - take my muse by the hips to carefully move them out of their way ➜ - smack my muse upside the head ⌧ - grip my muse by the back of the neck © - put a hand on my muse’s back to steer them somewhere ✂ - point sternly at a chair and tell my muse to sit down ✉ - push my muse back down when they try to get out of bed (perhaps involving illness, injury, or sleep deprivation) ☛ - press a finger to my muse’s lips to shut them up ♚ - put a hand on my muse’s knee while sitting next to them, to discourage them from standing up ♧ - slap my muse’s hand away from something they shouldn’t touch ♦ - grab my muse’s hair and yank ♤ - slam a door shut before my muse can leave the room ♞ - physically pick my muse up and carry them ♭ - grip my muse’s jaw to make them look yours in the eye ♨ - rub my muse down with a sponge/wet cloth  ☀ - pin my muse with their arms behind their back ☠ - slam my muse into a wall ☾ - wrestle/pin my muse to the ground

Add as much or as little context as you’d like!

the king didn’t often stoop down to greet drifters personally, but in this case - he’d figured, he should make an exception. this very special human being had almost single-handedly saved his group of talented hunters from a horde. it had been an exceptionally small one, which was most likely the only reason every single one of his men had made it out unscathed, but hordes were a recurring problem & crowley had yet to find a way to deal with them. they didn’t stray very far from their nesting places, but crowley’s settlement was growing & they required more food, hence their hunting grounds had to be increased as well, which led him to a problem. eager beavers. hunters wandering too far, too close to infested areas & ended up drawing attention to themselves. it was a dangerous game they were playing, risking their own & other people’s lives. 

still, this guy, had apparently saved them. a drifter. he’d not been spotted in the state before - at least nowhere around his camp, so it was safe to say he was curious. drifters weren’t the helping kind unless money was involved. it wasn’t in their nature - it just wasn’t. the drifter was surrounded by people, everybody was watching him from afar - whispering about what he did & it took crowley a good half minute to remind everybody they had work to do. 

he walked up behind him at the weapons shop, “you must be dean. i’ve heard so much. welcome to camp crossroad.” 

Dean had been on his own what felt like his entire life. Dad had been a drunk for the most part, though he’d given his boys his knowledge of survival, honed through years in the military. Dean had joined up after high school, but been honorably discharged after taking a bullet to the knee. Sam had gone on to medical school, despite their father being an asshole about him moving across the country. The last time Dean had seen Sam, he’d been packing up to join NERO. Now...who knows where the Hell he is, if he was even alive. All Dean had was his bike, the aluminum bat he’d wrapped with razor wire, and a sawed-off shotgun. 

There were even days he preferred this world to the old one. Life was simpler. Straight-forward. 

So when he came upon a group of scavvers trying to outrun a horde, it was simple enough to help them. Pitch a pipe bomb into the center of the beast, follow it up with a couple molotovs, and then ride like hell, gunning them down as he did. They’d brought him back to their camp, wanting to introduce him to their leader. Dean didn’t care. A dry bed and a bottle of whiskey was all the thanks he asked. 

“And you must be Crowley.” Dean stands to offer him a hand. 

I like it. The whole Clark Kent look.

Finding Home || closed.

damnatiinfinem‌:

Chris had already thought he was occupying Dean’s bed and therefore the least he could do was share. He scooted over a little for him to sit and pulled the blanket in tight. He wasn’t sure he could sleep properly like this, but he could at least rest and give his body time to recover and recharge. He had a long way ahead of him tomorrow, and a lot planned, too. Gerard wouldn’t wait even if Chris was hurt, he’d tell him to man up, wash the dirt out of his eyes and get going. And he would. 

Kate hadn’t slept in the same bed as him in a long time, so having another body next to him was strange and yet familiar and comforting. And yet Chris was a light sleeper, taught to sleep with one eye open and used to waking early. He hardly ever slept past seven in the morning and he wouldn’t start now. 

Dean never slept deeply since he’d turned, his Wolf always awake and wary. Still, he was bone tired from the ordeal, and with Chris’ warmth filling the small cave, it was all too easy to slip into unconsciousness. His head slowly slipped onto Chris’ shoulder, sound asleep.

As he slept, the years and worries seemed to slip off of him, leaving just a worn, too thin child forced to survive on his own for too long.

damnatiinfinem‌:

nobody had expected this plan to go south this fast. they’d planned it thoroughly, had ensured safe passage to the new world & crowley had set up guards to keep the doors under constant watch. someone must’ve bribed them, someone still loyal to lucifer. he couldn’t believe it. they were so stupid, those demons - they had no idea how good it was to have crowley as their king. now they’d find out. 

he wasn’t sure if he should just carry dean should the man decide he didn’t want to move any further. if he was so broken, he wanted to die, then nathan would either have to go against his wishes or … no, he wouldn’t let him die. he couldn’t lose him, too. they were family. up on his feet, he pushed the potion back at dean. “’m fine. you need’m.” he could run for longer, dean was mostly human - with a human lung & human body. he needed the artificial help. “let’s go.” it wasn’t far to the closest bus station, they could hitch a ride out of town & make their way to one of crowley’s many safe houses by stealing a car. dean knew how to do that, nathan knew as much.  

“Right,” Dean brushed himself off, scrubbing a hand over his face. The fabric was tougher than it looked, Kevlar woven into the fine clothes Crowley’d had custom made for him. He didn’t argue with Nate about the potion. It’s primary purpose was just for moments like this, when they needed to run and Dean couldn’t keep up. The plan was simple, always had been, but Crowley had always been the one planning. Now...now they were on their own.

The bus station wasn’t too far so Dean set up a brisk walk instead of running, conserving energy, and it looked less conspicuous. Maybe they could steal a car. Dressed like he was, he’d stick out on a public bus.

“Crowls had a car stashed around here somewhere.” Dean murmured, digging an enchanted compass out of his bag.

it all happened so fast. one second they were getting ready to leave & the next there was lucifer with a death grip on his king’s tie & an angel blade buried deep in the demon’s abdomen. the sounds that carried over made his heart throb & his eyes water, but he knew there was only one thing he could do now. protect dean. he loved crowley with all his heart, but there was nothing he could do, the ritual hadn’t been completed so staying here in hell would only result in death. king down, our king is down. protect his beloved. he dragged him away, called for his siblings to help & made for the way out. with dean in tow, he ran & and ran until he thought dean might faint. 

mind racing, he knew they had to hide as soon as possible, wait for the worst to blow over. it hurt knowing hell would fall back into lucifer’s hands, but they all knew it had forever been a possibility. “dean? you hurt?” he didn’t have time to check before, he’d just reacted & didn’t really stop to talk until then.

When Crowley had said it was time to run, it was time to run. He had an emergency bag packed, like he always had done, even in his hunter days. Especially in his hunter days. Now, instead of knives and guns, it was full to the brim with emergency spells and hex bags. Of course, it wasn’t short on knives and guns either. 

Crowley said he had a plan, and Crowley always had a plan, so it was easy to follow. He’d come to trust Crowley long ago, fallen head over heels sometime after. While Sam was trying to be a Man of Letters, and Cas was bemoaning the state of Heaven, Dean had found something like bliss. 

It all came crashing down in a second. Crowley had been part way through an incantation when Lucifer was suddenly there, wrapping his hand around Crowley’s tie and impaling him on an angel blade. Dean saw the flashing beneath Crowley’s skin, felt his own heart grow cold, his soul searing as Crowley’s mark inside him burned. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Someone was screaming, and he felt Nate grab his arm, dragging him away from the laughing Lucifer. 

He didn’t know how long they ran, Nate dragging him along, the ever loyal hellhounds leaving a trail of carnage in their wake. The stitch in his side became a gnawing ache, but he ran on, his mind and body numb. When they finally stopped, Dean dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. He quickly swallowed a vitality potion, feeling it restore strength to his exhausted body, and almost immediately began to sob. 

Never Go Home || closed.

thekingsparty‌:

"Yeah, just...bad luck." Dean murmured, twisting the ring on his finger that Crowley had given him before...all this mess. He ached for his lover back, his companion, his husband. Six years they'd been together, and he'd never in his life been happier. "Yeah, we had...all the usual things. I've been thinking, trying to figure out where this timeline and mine separated. Where the fork is."

Bitter Silence // thekingsparty

damnatiinfinem:

“Take your time waking up, darling. There’s nobody rushing you today.” The nurses wouldn’t bother them for now and Crowley could just watch his almost-mate wake up slowly, colour back on his face with every breath he took and his heart beating steadily. “You can always sleep a little longer if you want, I won’t mind holding you for another hour or two.” Because holding him and knowing nobody would be able to hurt him while he watched over him was the best feeling he could think of. 

And it wasn’t like either of them had to get up just yet, Crowley didn’t have to go to work and Dean.. well, obviously Dean had no duties other than seeing his little pup later. 

Dean smiled at the thought, warm and content in Crowley’s arms. He’d never thought he’d be free of that place, and now here he was, safe and free with an Alpha who’d not only promised to protect them, but signed an agreement saying no one could take them away again. He and Thomas were safe. As safe as they could be. Even if the other Alphas came for him, there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t take him away. “Thank you.” Dean said softly. “For everything.”

Never Go Home || closed.

thekingsparty‌:

Dean’s face fell at the mention of Lucifer and he looked down at his hands in his lap, feeling cold. If it hadn’t been for him...if Crowley hadn’t come back for him, hadn’t wasted his energy saving him.... “Six months.” He murmured, not looking up. “We were planning to go underground. Crowley said he had a safe house. I stopped at the bunker to pick up some essentials, and Lucifer’s goons grabbed me. Crowley came after me, and...you know the rest.”

It had been a good few weeks since Crowley had turned his back to life as he knew it. Or maybe it was months, he wasn’t entirely sure anymore. Life without Hell, life without duty was lacking purpose - he was still searching for a reason to get up in the mornings as most of the time he’d rather not. To say he was lonely now was an understatement. He no longer had his minions to keep him company, to portray a false feeling of belonging when they were around him. Where did he belong now? Hell had never been his home, not properly anyway, but.. at least he could pretend it is. 

Now though, new face, new life, new … everything. He had yet to find out what it was that he wanted from this newly-found life. Could he just move on and start fresh? He’d thought so, but he hadn’t exactly succeeded yet. He didn’t stay too long in every town he decided he wanted to spend the night at, he didn’t look to settle, he just needed some way to spend his time. Bars were a safe place, they reminded him of Dean Winchester the past and it gave him some sort of warmth nothing else could. 

He didn’t fear to be discovered, not with the brand-new body he was wearing. Nobody human would recognize him and he would recognize everybody else before they could know who he was. And he really thought he was safe, that nobody was looking for him (nobody who mattered anyway) and that he would just keep on being a shadow forever, but .. when he set foot into that bar and found a very familiar face behind the counter, Crowley had to reach out to the closest wall to ground himself at first. Good lord, really? 

What was Dean Winchester doing away from home, from Sam? Was he on a hunt? Though, working as a bartender? No.. or maybe? He would probably find out in a few minutes. Strolling closer to grab a seat at the counter, he felt his heart throb at the sight. He’d wanted to leave these feelings behind. Why did Fate have to mess with him time and time again?

It had started with a hunt to clear his head. He couldn’t handle being around Jack, not knowing if he could trust the nephilim, if he was responsible for Cas’ death, for...for Crowley’s suicide. Sam was fixated on ‘saving’ the kid, raising him right, whatever that meant. Dean had tried and failed to be a good parent. He wasn’t going down that road again.

The hunt had been relatively simple, and he’d been on his way home when he saw the ‘help wanted’ sign in the window of the bar. He’d stopped for a drink...and never left. The job was easy, routine, monotonous. He knew the regular patrons, but there were enough new ones to keep things interesting. It kept his mind occupied. Off of things more cosmic.

The bell chimed as a customer came in, and Dean turned to clean off a section of the bar and put a glass down on a coaster. Repetition. So maybe his eyes were a little haunted, and maybe most assumed he was a former soldier. In a way he was. Used up and burned out, and now all he had was this. Repetition.