Forget stardust—you are iron. Your blood is nothing but ferrous liquid. When you bleed, you reek of rust. It is iron that fills your heart and sits in your veins. And what is iron, really, unless it’s forged?
Before I realized it is heavy because you have so much love. You are pained because you’re all the good in the world trapped in one body, breaking at the seams, and you’re a beautiful explosion just waiting to happen.
I stand before you, and tell you ‘I’m home’. Know that I mean it as such: you are my home. Your arms are my foundations. Your eyes the doorways. Your lungs the fireplace. Your ribs my walls. Heaven cannot compare to the sanctuary that is you. So let me come back; let me rest in your heart. I’ve been on the road for too long.
There is one word that could easily sum up Dean’s day so far, and that word is fuck.
His nails are bitten to the quick, his palms are so sweaty he’s surprised they aren’t dripping, and there’s a new silver ring burning a hole in his pocket right now. Unconsciously, Dean fingers the damn thing, pushing it as far into the lining as it’ll go without ripping. He kind of wishes he could throw it into the ocean. Or a volcano, Mount Doom style.
He’s probably Smeagol. No doubt that the red flush creeping up the back of his neck is that cursed mountain’s lava, swallowing him whole, melting the very flesh off his bones, and – wow, he’s so screwed.
- Three days ago, you thought there was no such thing as me. Why do you think we’re here walking among you now for the first time in 2,000 years? - To stop Lucifer. - That’s why we’ve arrived. - Well… bang-up job so far. Stellar work with the witnesses. That’s nice.
Here’s the thing—guns at carnivals are always rigged.
Dean’s been using all kinds of guns since he was nine and has never missed a shot since he was nineteen when he put his heart into it, but guns at carnival games are a completely different ball game. Okay, fine, Dean is shit at this stupid game, but only because everyone is supposed to be shit at it. Rigged guns for easy money and all.
The only theory of the creation I believe in is the one that tells me I was created for you. The only law of physics that I accept is that we will find each other, despite the multitudinous frays and folds of this flourishing universe.