ocean sprout

carved out of the sea ~ listen
calm and dreamy mix that feels like the ocean

lion’s ocean ~ steven universe // how i became the sea ~ owl city // deep sea pastures ~ ponyo // rhythm of port town ~ free! // watermark ~ sleeping at last // still feeling the waves when you go to bed ~ lullatones // way to the blue departure ~ free! // water bubble dream ~ bee and puppycat // song of the ocean ~ cake bake betty // 1am ~ animal crossing new leaf // words that changed my life ~ free! // rose’s room ~ steven universe 

taking selfies in my moms vintage hokusai shirt bc i just finished all my art history homework !

Black On Black II (NC-17)

(Note: You can read part one of Black On Black on Tumblr or on Ao3. All of my other one shots can be found on my master post. Demon!Dean gif created by deansdamnation.)

Left wing. In, out, in, out.

Right wing. In, out, in, out.

They moved as seamlessly and effortlessly for Dean as his arms, yet he still felt completely awkward, bulky, and unnatural. As with every emotion, it all stretched back to inherent anger. Rage. Only spilling blood and stealing souls gave him mild relief, which, he guessed, was why every other demon followed that road before him. He fantasized about gutting a human there in the meadow as he worked out the kinks in his wings. That too felt as seamless and natural as anything else. He couldn’t even muster the moral compass to be disgusted by that fantasy anymore. Truthfully, he needed to hunt. If he didn’t soon, he could release it all on Sammy or Castiel.

Angel grace.

Just the mention of Castiel in his thoughts sent a jolt of hunger and delicious depravity through his dead human body. For a split second, thinking about tasting angel grace made him feel alive again. That was another thing that should have been in the nonexistent demon handbook. A drop of angel grace was like heroin to his new species. It aroused hunger, adrenalin, and the most wicked kind of sexual desire in a demon, which typically wasn’t a problem for most, except Dean had already been tangled up emotionally with an angel for years. Their bond made Castiel’s grace taste even better. He just knew it. Clean, good, and everything he wasn’t anymore. The addiction began without even lapping up any of the bluish-white honey.

Left wing. In, out, in, out.

Right wing. In, out, in, out.

The stretching just wasn’t working anymore. He knew deep down that Castiel had been right the day before at the docks when he said he needed to fly. Humans saw it as teleportation but their conception of time made them unable to fathom how demons and angels could fly around the world in a few seconds. Dean was stronger than the average demon and he knew he could bend time. He couldn’t make himself try, as if utilizing his powers would push him beyond the point of no return, but he knew he could do things that other demons could not.

If Sammy saw him do anything demonic, he knew he’d give up and embrace Hell. Only his little brother’s faith kept his tenuous hold on humanity. And Castiel. Damn it, always Castiel.

“Hello, Dean.”

Speak of the angel and he appeared.

“What fun Dean activity is Sammy dragging me to now?” he muttered as he reached around and massaged his sore shoulder.

“None,” Castiel replied. “He’s gone into town for food.”




He felt Castiel smile behind him, just slightly, as if he recognized something of his old self just then. Again, the struggle flared in Dean, making him want to slaughter his natural enemy but still feeling that intense attachment. He wanted to vomit out all the goodness Castiel gave him, but keep it locked away too. It exhausted him despite no longer needing to sleep.

“Come on,” murmured the angel.

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