Summer Is In Full Roasting Mode Here, So I Wanted To Draw Something Refreshing And Fun! So Have Dean

Get that sausage girl!

Sexy, right? 😂 

Yes @impala-dreamer it is. Thank you for sending it. 

~

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You answered Dean as you grabbed a slice of pizza from the box.

“Slide that over here would ya?”

“Sure. This is the sausage, or did you want the pep…” Your voice trailed off when you closed the lid and you saw Dean. He was crooking to fingers at you. Two fingers that not so long ago were making your eyes roll back.

The smug smile on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you. You knew you’d been silent for too long when you saw the look Sam was giving you.

“Sorry.” You laughed. “Completely zoned there for a minute.”

“Have you not been getting sleep?” Sam asked, concern obvious in his voice. “You’ve been kinda spacey for the past few days.”

The truth was, he was right. Dean had been occupying most of your alone time, and teasing every chance he got. You felt riled up constantly and it was getting harder and harder to keep your budding relationship quiet like you’d promised each other.

“Yeah, Y/N/N. Something keeping you up all hours of the night?” Dean sassed.

Instead of answering either of them, you took an extra large bite of pizza and looked at anything but a Winchester.

“Are you two? I KNEW IT!” Sam yelped.

Dean pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about Sammy.”

“Oh my God. Seriously, how long?”

“Guys can we just eat? I’m starving.” You tried to push the conversation to the side.

“No.” They replied, at the same time.

“How long have you been sleeping together?”

“It’s none of your business!” You snapped.

“Ha! So I am right.”

“Fuck.”

“Alright, alright.” Dean spoke up. “Long enough. Now, drop it.”

Sam just smiled, shook his head and went back to his pizza.

Dean stood, and walked over to you. “I wanted the sausage.” He said softly and bent down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He didn’t say anything else, just grabbed the box of pizza and returned to his seat.

“Apparently so does Y/N.”

“Sam!”

i think we as a fanbase moved on way too quickly from the fact that the first ghosts lockwood ever saw were his parents

vehicular manslaughter chappell roan be like you can hit a hundred boys with cars

“Cas! What the hell are you doing in here?!” Dean practically yelped. Castiel stood frozen, phone in one hand, the other half-raised and immediately forgotten. His mouth hung open as if every functioning brain cell had spontaneously vacated the premises. His eyes were growing to a worrying size with each passing second, steadfastly fixed at waist level. He unabashedly stared at the frilly pink lace peeking out of Dean’s ripped, borderline-offensive cut-off jean shorts. Both men stopped breathing. An entirely awkward second later with Dean's face color shifting through exciting undiscovered shades of red, Castiel swallowed audibly.  Dean stared daggers. “You know what, Cas? I own it." A wet sponge hitting Castiel square in the face pulled him back into reality. "Now get working and help me clean Baby!"

I HAD SO MUCH FUN DRAWING THIS!! I should draw more ridiculous things in the future :D

Prints available here!

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[my social media links]

“my daughter is completely fine!”

ma’am your daughter has to read fanfics about fictional characters just to maintain a healthy mental state

Something I find so absolutely fascinating in Lockwood and Co. is the way in which the text reminds you you're reading about children - the kids live in this world where necessity has forced them to function as adults for most of their lives, but rather than just allowing them to have taken on these adult positions we see them be so silly and sweet. They all have an obnoxious sweet tooth, Lockwood has a bin of costumes and seems to use them wholly unnecessarily and dramatically. He does stupid accents. Hes literally just playing dress up. They're just babies 🥺

daylight .ᐟ

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night. And now I see daylight, I only see daylight'

Requested; @jellyfishjo

Notes; requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

For as long as he could remember his whole life had been shrouded in darkness. From the first lick of fire which took his childhood home, Dean’s life had seemed to dull to the same colour as the ash which had covered his brother's nursery the morning after.

The last time Dean Winchester saw light was when his mother kissed him goodnight before turning back to his little brother.

In some ways, he thought it was the universe playing some sick joke. His life had gone up in flames so bright that his eyes had watered only glancing towards the house, only for the sun to come up and cast his world into a neverending darkness. 

Tragedy, after tragedy, after tragedy.

That was until he met you. 

The first time he’d laid eyes on you it was almost as if for the first time in his adult life the sun finally seemed to peak over the horizon. Even now, the darkness of night surrounding you both like a blanket the world seemed lighter.

“You okay?” Your voice broke through the silence, the wind blowing your hair gently as you turned to look at him from where you were sitting on the hood of his car. He hummed leaning back against the hood. “M’fine.” He said turning to face you fully.

“Really? Cause you look like you're about to give yourself an aneurysm.” You joked lightly your hand finding his on instinct. You squeezed his hand for a moment as he rolled his eyes. “That's a lotta large words sweetheart.” He mused, a playful glint in his eyes. 

You raised an eyebrow gently pulling him closer, to stand in front of you. “Do you even know what an aneurysm is?”

Dean scoffed. “Course I know what it is? I did go to class…sometimes.” He smiled rubbing his free hand over your knee.

“Yeah. Sometimes.” You squeezed his hand again as he rolled his eyes, his finger jabbing into your knee for a moment. 

You both fell quiet again, eyes on the sky above. The night was surprisingly clear for September, the moon cast a dim light across the field you’d both taken refuge in for the moment. The stars themselves seemed to be out in the masses, a sight which was so rare and almost jaw-droppingly beautiful.

Dean’s gaze flicks back from the sky to you, his face showing a rare moment of vulnerability as his eyes trace the shape of your face, watching the way your eyes seem to light up just slightly in the moonlight.

His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand as he cupped your cheek with the other. Your own eyes moved back to him, a small smile tugging at your lips as his thumb brushed your lips for a moment.

“I love you.” 

Dean’s voice was barely a whisper as his eyes darted over your face, logging details he’d long since memorised. “I love you too.” Your voice matched his as you subconsciously leaned into his hand.

His own lips pulled into a smile as he hummed lowly. He could happily live in this bubble forever. 

You, him, his car, and peace.

He knew in the morning you’d both go back to everyday life, back to the horrors which were your normal and this simplicity would fade away until you had enough time to yet again step into this small bubble.

Yet, for the first time in his life, he realised he didn't hold resentment to the idea. Hunting was okay, he was used to it. It was his normal. The darkness had become his normal, had been his normal.

Yet the darkness didn’t seem to matter anymore. 

For the first time in almost 20 years, he finally saw the light again. 

not to be insane about her on main but you know I never stopped thinking about jessica right. you know I never stopped thinking about jess lockwood

shes like. she's JESS.

shes haunting the narrative. she's haunting lockwood. shes haunting nothing at all, in the literal sense, which is rather strange. shes in Lucy's face and the way she stands at the door. shes got lockwoods eyes, or maybe hes got hers. she's burned into her bedset. she's burned into her house. she's burned into wood. she's a broken pot. she's a clumsy rapier. she's waiting at the apple tree. shes sleeping under her covers. she likes stickers. she's a kid, she's a guardian, she's not going to take off the baby wallpaper in her bedroom. she's clung to youth. she's forced to grow up. she's younger than her baby brother. she's the world. shes important enough to die for. she's important enough to live because of. she's blue and swollen and on the floor and dead. she's pale and smiling and holding her brother in her lap, immortalized, shoved in a dresser drawer because somebody couldnt handle seeing her face.

she's that important. she's that important.

she's a lockwood, she's a mirror, she's lucy joan carlyle and anthony john lockwood and a reminder and a child and doomed, doomed, doomed in such a way that she could save everyone else.

she's the boxes lockwood couldn't open. she's the right time. she's warm feathers and stitches purposefully undone.

in her childishly wallpapered room, she is sitting, watching, cross legged on her bed.

you are sam winchester and everyone you love ends up dead because of you. your mother burns on the ceiling. your girlfriend burns on the ceiling. your college friends were puppets planted there for you. the people underneath the demons are long gone. your brother stabs your childhood friend. you get reunited with an old flame. she chokes in front of you. a gift to you. a message to you. you are responsible for your loved ones dying. you meet a hunter and she gives you hope that you could build something real and lasting, but she is killed and you know it was your fault. she would have been fine if she hadn't met you. she comes back and gets taken away again. you're destined to kill the one person who's ever understood you in your entirety with no judgment. you still think about jessica. your hell is right here you are cursed to kill and kill and kill.

you are dean winchester and your loved ones keep killing themselves for you. they die and they die and they die and it's all for you. not just because of but for you. offerings of devotion that make you want to repay the favor but you keep springing back up like a grotesque clown in a box. your curse is to keep on living and living, carrying them within you. an altar stained with their sacrifice. an obscene fire sustained against your will by the corpses of your loved ones.