bledgrace

[bledgrace]

mmmmkay, executive decision and because I hate switching accounts. so i'm moving dean to my new multi. ♡

[bledgrace]

mmmmkay, executive decision and because I hate switching accounts. so i'm moving dean to my new multi. ♡

[bledgrace]

who wants memes, from michael or dean?? I’m hopeless at coming up with random ideas for random starters without plotting. But I wanna write so badly lol.

[bledgrace]

does anyone want to write with Michael 🥺

[bledgrace]

i don't have spoons to right often anymore. and when i do have the spoons to write i'm limited by time. meaning i'll reply / write things when i can. thank you for your patience truly.

[bledgrace]

if dean had to pick his best friend in the whole wide world, universe and beyond and he wasn't allowed to pick abraham or sam, then it would be jordan. though they didn't meet up quiet as often as either of them would like... he'll blame the past two years on leviathans, todd —fuckin' todd. dean internally shudders at the thought; saw way too much of that man for his liking. then purgatory, swallowed up a whole god damn year. sorry for not contacting sooner, been kinda busy.

good, dean was afraid he was going to be too gluttonous and eat all the cheese fries himself. can't believe he's thinking about ordering more food after the plate the kitchen is working on. ‘‘ where do I even fucking start? ’’ snap of his fingers, with a point. ‘‘ I got married. we'll start there. ’’ yeah, the good stuff first.

how long had it been now? a year or two, at the least. definitely since that werewolf hunt in 'bama, what a wild full moon that was. too long, essentially, was the answer. they kept in contact but with the hunting lifestyle ... there was only so much that could be said over text. what he hadn't heard from @bledgrace, jordan caught through the grapevine. something about purgatory?

fingers trace the rim of chilled glass, watching the bubbles rise as they wait for their food next. jordan plucks a few cheese fries from the appetizer plate in front of them, munching before, “ so, catch me up ... what the fuck happened? ”

[bledgrace]

abraham most definitely knew the answer before he'd even posed the question. would you like that? and dean fell right into that trap. would you like that? yeah. I would. would you like that? almost more than anything, almost. if they were being fair, which they weren't. he really did just call because being apart from him always felt like he was being separated violently at the seams, like part of him was missing. the sexual intimacy they shared was just bonus. not entirely dean's fault that even just the thought of abraham has him beyond dizzy.

then he goes and makes all those sounds over the phone. well. the "mm" sound. it travels straight to dean's semi-erection. he smooths his free hand down the front of his denim to keep from touching himself right there in the kitchen. the low octave his husband drops on the having my way with you. dean exhales into the phone. the fucker. ‘‘ fucker. ’’ abraham always has this way of keeping a straight face despite making dean absolutely melt.

this time he lets out a punctuated sigh loudly into the phone. he almost hates when his husband is correct. but when you're right, you're right. ‘‘ ugh. ’’ back-pedals, ‘‘ — tell me you wanna have your way with me again. ’’

yeah. i would. was almost a rhetorical question, one met with a honeyed answer. of course he would, there was never a moment that went by when his husband wasn't thinking about sex. not that it was a bad thing, quite the opposite really. abe loved that about him, that he was so insatiable, that he longed for abraham to have his hands on him, his mouth.

a couple of boxes of cereal go into the cart next, along with a few versions of poptarts. he won't be ashamed for liking those damn things. “ mm, i thought so. and i suppose you'd like to know that i'm already dreaming of being home with you, ” taking full advantage of him, listening to those soft mewls leaving his lips as he plays with him. “ having my way with you. ”

why did we leave the bed again? god now he's starting to miss him too, itching to hold his hand and give each finger a kiss as they wandered the aisles together. “ because if we didn't then we wouldn't have food in the house. our turn for a run, 'member? ”

[bledgrace]

I’m not usually welcomed in the spn fandom, but when people love my dean I get all wobbly like 🥺 you don’t have to lie to me.

[bledgrace]

y’all want to hear about my ending(s) for dean,

(These of course don’t count towards privately plotted endings, but they’re the typical ones. typical for his “main” universe)

one. he gets impaled, fuck rusty rebars. however, he lives, gets hospitalized for a while but he recovers. he doesn’t hunt anymore, that chapter of his life is put to rest after that incident— how he almost didn’t bounce back. he does however settle into a part time job, while his other being somewhat of a help for other hunters along their journey. the house I have above the bunker and the bunker become somewhat of a safe haven for hunters.

two. much like the trials to close the gates of hell. there’s a spell or ritual that only the strongest conduits can withstand, either one. it rids the world of those that have spilled innocent blood, in the terms of supernatural beings more than human murderers and essentially shuts hell. it doesn’t kill the monsters that have yet to spill blood, or won’t. but it eliminates a good chunk. Dean is the conduit for that ritual/spell, and it nearly kills him. brings back a lot of his old scars on his body. but he comes out on the other side alive, scarred but alive. hunting of course is not for them anymore, there’s still stragglers in the hunting community but seeing as 99% of the monsters and demons are gone. all is right in the world, and Dean retires from hunting, and lives the rest of his life running a mechanic garage and fixing up pld and new cars and selling them. they bring him the most totaled cars.

he’s beloved and I will treat him reverently. except when I am writing hurt/comfort because dean getting hurt is always a must. sorry I don’t make the rules.

but those two are like the main endings, if I had more brain power right now to remember my other “main” endings ideas I’d put them there but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I don’t so..

[bledgrace]

I find it hella attractive when a girl has a smart mouth on her and can be a little bossy. Like yes, boss me straight into your bedroom.

[bledgrace]

just a typical— what is today? thursday. just a typical thursday night, hunting vampires. steel-toed boot presses to the chest of the last one, if only to gain leverage to yank his own machete from the dead vampires shoulder. sometimes they sliced too well through the flesh. blood spurts. some of it lands in his mouth. he's about had it with that too. dean spits the crimson out. ‘‘ y'er tellin' me. i just got the blood out of this shirt from the last one. ’’

silly ol' hunting, @bledgrace

“dead man's blood, an oversized machete- oh, we're hunting vampires!” the sarcastic glee dripped off of the chalamet like honey, her own blade hacking through vampiric flesh like butter. “shut me up next time, will you? this is so gross.”

[bledgrace]

it had only been a graze,  yet that is all they had needed. enough to break the skin and get the poison into the blood stream.  dean just didn’t expect for it to act this quickly.  abraham had reached out for him,   moments before.  what’s expected of his right-hand…   and his lover.  he’s not sure where he’d be without the man.  perhaps not giving enough credit to himself,  but abraham had saved his life—  and not just in the heat of battle.  this time is no different.   It’s why his first instinct had been to reach for him and only him.  he doesn’t think he’d ever seen the man move so fast.   only when time is of the essence.

he's off his horse,  quickly by his side,  holding him up.  it’s a burning inferno around him,  sweat coats his brow.  vision is blurry  in his right eye and practically gone in his left.  the side that had taken the brunt of the arrow head.  his body had not hit the ground, had abraham not been there it would have.  the sounds of his men are distant despite being mere feet from him as they move to surround in a protective way.  not that it makes much of a difference now,  he thinks as he leans back into abrahams chest.  head lolls against abrahams shoulder inhaling as best he can his scent,  calms the panic that’s rising in him.  his chest is beginning to ache.

dean makes a displeased noise as his head and body is pulled away from the little comfort.  he has a hard time staying upright but he doesn’t have to struggle for long when he feels abraham envelop him again,  this time on horseback.  hold on to me.  except his hold isn’t so much as a hand placed on his bicep.  head once again tucks into abrahams neck.   If anything happens to me,  you will follow his commands.  and he meant it.   he doesn’t believe abraham would cause harm in his commands.  It’s a safe-guard—  knows that he has the best interests of  dean and his people.  in this case,  hope is that it’s temporary. that he would not meet an early demise.

we’re exposed.  he feels the rumble of abrahams chest even from under his armor long before the words associate in his head.   they had to retreat,  it was the smartest option.  it’s what dean was planning to do somewhere between the arrow breaking his flesh and collapsing into abrahams arms.   act of war.   distant gallop of horse hooves,  two sets. serenty and bailey’s.  moves hand from bicep to chest,  then up to abrahams neck.  no doubt can feel the burning heat that is surging through him. ‘‘ thank you. ’’ he manages out.  thank you for everything.  his body twitches even as it follows the movement of the horse,  of the man keeping him in place.  he has to close his eyes now because everything is starting to spin.  the sooner they get back to camp the better.

surely they knew better than to think it was their battle to win. they were outnumbered, outmatched. though abraham knows better than to underestimate the enemy, that is what gets people killed in war. turning the blind eye based on assumptions. but purely upon the observations: they don't stand a chance. deans army is fierce and battle hardened, knew these lands better than any. the men were born here, raised children here, swore an unyielding oath to defend her and her king. they would not go easy, and each of stood ready for anything as they followed the king along his journey, eyes on everything.

for the moment it was peaceful. limbs sway with the gentle spring breeze, birds singing their songs and woodland animals seem to watch their journey with intention. any other day, perhaps it would've been beautiful: sun painting the skies soft pinks and blues, morning sun on the horizon, but something still feels off and abe can't place why. then the air shifts as arrow soars through open air, slicing through kings cloak. an act of war. negotiations were off the table, peace never in the cards with these interlopers. they came for glory and land blood, all of which would be taken by force.

immediately there is a roar of voices around him. the general keeps his men in line when some draw their swords, "lousy fucking shot" spoken from another, while more seem to wait with baited breath for what could possibly come next. abraham, though, doesn't dare tear his eyes away from him. red stains fine silk and the armor they had dressed him in earlier that morning, dripping over steal. perhaps not, dean says. changes do not go unnoticed, abraham offering a hand to balance before he reaches out to him, taking a fistful of his armor. fuck.

catch me, i'm about to collapse. fuck. he saw the slight lean in his posture before words come out, quickly dismounted his horse and ran to catch him just before he begun to buckle. the king has been attacked, in mere moments things are going to go to hell. and not before someone attempts to take him from his arms, his grip over him tightens, pulling him closer to his chest.

“ don't fucking touch him! ” he bites. eyes go to each of the trees surrounding them, the shrubs big enough to hide a would be assassin. too many of them. they're exposed out here, right where they wanted them. with all the strength he has, he places dean on his horse, hands on him to steady when he climbs into the saddle. “ hold on to me. ” dean first, others later. eyes snap to the general, pulling the reins to his horse and starting in the direction they came, “ we're exposed, get the fuck out of here. i'm taking him back. ” camp was not too far, he could make it back in twenty minutes. half that time if serenity was willing.

[bledgrace]

10.05

[bledgrace]

great. i was hoping my childhood would follow me forever and attach itself to my psyche and spread like mold. This is good

[bledgrace]

dean doesn't have to glance over to sam to know the way his (brother) is looking at him. so he just turns away, avoids his gaze sighing dreamily into the phone; the minute hey hot stuff left his husbands mouth. his face flushes and it creeps all the way to the tips of his freckled ears. why was he like this? he should've gone with him, that's the real tragedy. he stands from the chair, moves into the other room— still avoiding eye contact with sam.

he blows out a breath, suddenly not at all worried about groceries or if abraham will remember to get him those little frozen taquitos, four boxes this time. ‘‘ yeah. I would. ’’ voice thick with arousal. not at all fair really. he's supposed to be catching him off guard not the other way around. ‘‘ why did we leave the bed again? ’’

the soft chime of the bell above his head hits his ears before ringtone does. doesn't even have to look at it to know its dean, just had a feeling. smile comes across his lips as he grabs a buggy and wheels it to the first isle, bringing phone to his ear. “ hey hot stuff. ” hey, what are you wearing? its cute when he misses him. a box of oatmeal is placed into the cart. “ mmm, depends. in another fifteen minutes or so, it could be nothing. would you like that? ”

[bledgrace]

one minute he's got bailey's reigns in his hands, riding on either side of him his general and his right-hand @blednone. the next minute an arrow is flying through the air, slicing right into his shoulder. just barely a graze, but it makes him wonder why he ever thought that these invading people would broker towards peace. that's fine, an attack on royalty, an attack on him is an act of war. and if a war is what they want— a war is what they shall have.

hears one of his party say something about them being a shitty shot. but dean knows better than to agree, especially as he's beginning to lose part of his vision in his left eye. the air just got a little too hot for his liking. fuck. poison, of course. the cowards weapon of choice. couldn't even have laced his wine in it upon visitation. from the forest. ‘‘ perhaps not, ’’ his breathing has grown ragged in the short time. someone is then back-tracking to retrieve the arrow. the rest on high alert.

dean reaches for abraham, grips part of his armor, can barely get the words out but he manages, ‘‘ catch me, i'm about to collapse. ’’ and just like that he folds, knees buckling.

[bledgrace]

𝖀𝖒𝖇𝖗𝖆 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖒 , the shadow of death .

BLEDNONE. independent + private original character based in a meticulously rewritten supernatural. based heavily in silver's lore. affiliated & ship exclusive to bledgrace. redeemed by gold (she/her).

mother, i'm not who i once was ... or who you thought. wrath burns close to my heart, as familiar to me as death has become. it burns holes in the lining of my chest, oozing the darkness that has beckoned for me. i am the shadow of death, the scythe cannot pierce me.