SHIT
dean watches hentai in canon so i’m just gonna put this out there:
hs au dean sees cas sketching and notices that, though the style is cas’ own, the character looks like this guy from a manga dean reads and so he’s kinda like
‘oh nice drawing. looks kind of like this guy blah blah blah’
and cas just raises his head, eyes wide, and reaches into his bag to pull out a volume of the manga and dean just LOOKS at him and they literally just STARE at each other for a long time
THEN THEY BECOME BEST FRIENDS AND BOND OVER THEIR MUTUAL LOVE FOR COMIC BOOKS AND GRAPHIC NOVELS and dean prefers dc and cas prefers marvel but it doesn’t really matter because cas does like the batman movies and dean goes with cas to watch the avengers movie all 7 times while it’s in theatres
and they also have star trek marathons together okay yes
sam buys hats for cas and dean because he was the first dean/cas shipper so he buys a bunch of hats and brings them over
cas ends up wearing a green elf hat because as “fitting” as the halo may have seemed, cas says it just doesn’t appeal to him very much (he says this as he scrunches his nose)
dean forces the reindeer antlers on sam with a laugh and volunteers to wear the santa hat because ‘I obviously run this whole operation’
sam says he probably just wants to be able to eat all of the cookies and milk
later, jess comes over (with pumpkin pie, god bless her) and squees when she sees her fiance in his “adorable” christmas antlers
"cockles fic where misha and jensen are watchign tv on couch late at night and jensen goes to brush his teeth and when he does misha sneaks some milk and when jensen comes back they make out and its good but then oH GOD MISHA TELL ME YOU DIDNT YOU ASS"
okay so i need like a disney!hercules au
where cas is a fallen angel found by bobby and ellen
and like jo is an older sister figure to him and he explains to her one day how out of place he feels and she helps him pack his things and when he’s leaving bobby catches him and he explains why he has to go and bobby kinda of sighs and agrees and wishes him luck
and he travels to the temple and prays and finds out what he really is and how he’s supposed to regain his grace
and he runs into gabriel who isn’t quite “fallen” but he ran away from heaven so he helps his little bro out and trains him until he’s ready to face demons and monsters
then he meets this guy sam who’s being chased by some kind of monster and helps him out, sam smiles and then dean shows up who sees sam with some stranger and gets all flustered and mother hen-ish
but they hang out for a while, killing monsters and demons and cas and dean get close and sam likes to go over angel lore with cas and it’s all good and dandy
but what they don’t now is sam got really sick when he was younger and dean sould his soul for him and now dean’s living on loaned time from crowley, the ruler of hell, and wOW
so then there’s a whole big thing and climax and cas jumps into hell to save dean’s soul and dean’s like, NO IM NOT WORTH IT and cas is like, you always were
and then theres a dramatic scene and cas becomes and angel and dean’s soul is saved and cas gets to join his family in heaven and dean lives on with sam and then one day he walks outside and cas is standing in front of the house with a basket of apples and he’s like ‘hey’ we can make that pie now\
andyayyyyy
also can balthazar be the pegasus equivalent i need that
//favor in sickness and rebuking release//
a tongue of burning coal
electric fibers — fingers
eye sockets filled with
frosted glass —reflecting
vertebrae like stones
one after another
a skeleton of flame
mouth pouring light
white and iridescent —
pooling at talon-like feet
creeping up supple skin
(so pink and wet and raw)
the liquid ash trickles down your
throat, simultaneously
choking and reviving you
your breath is sin
and it must be quelled
there’s no salvation for you
but redemption i have plenty
come near, child
reap and rape and take
and swallow and chew and
gorge and rip and tear
these paper wings of mine
—oozing ink and
bleeding scarlet—
are useless for flying
so take what i have and
leave me a watery void
inside your aching chest
so i may be cradled inside your
carving-decorated rib cage
and in turn cradle the heart
i forged for you
Okay Merry and I are having feelings and uh we just really need to either find or write our own fic where it is an AU set during the American Revolution and
The Winchester are Am. colonists who own ships, the family is composed of sailors
“The family business” could be transporting weapons/staples for the war
Sam bonds with the local natives despite what is going on and meets an healer and they just tend to the wounded from all ends.
Dean tries to follow in his father’s footsteps; his father became a soldier for the war and was killed by British soldiers recently.
Castiel was originally a colonial Loyalist who was volunteered for the British army by his English family, who are mostly merchants/politicians. He now serves the British army; but he has doubts about the viability of the war and hates bloodshed.
Castiel meets Sam when he’s wounded and when Dean stops by to check on his brother, the two meet and form an unexpected bond; despite their rocky beginnings, the two find themselves yearning for a similar goal in the war.
PLEASE SOMEONE TELL ME THERE IS SOMETHING LIKE THIS OUT THERE I NEED IT OKAY WE BOTH DO
The Different Types & Manifestations Of Pain I Allow Myself To Be Victimized To
Fandom Pain:
Pain caused by extreme emotional distress due to a certain show/film/book/video game/comic/etc.
This form of pain is usually directly related to:
- Sad things happening in said tv show/book/etc.
- When a certain character is treated poorly within a fandom or canon.
- SHIPPING PAIN
- SHIPPING PAIN
- PEOPLE BEING DUMB PAIN
- PEOPLE BEING RUDE PAIN
- SHIPPING
- SHIPPING
- why is that actor so perfect stop this you complete asshole (ex: Misha Collins)
Then there is pain caused by certain people.
Usually, much of the pain I allow myself to suffer is from the hands of people I actually care about (who knew?)
Such as:
Dani (glitterstrippersam.tumblr)-
Dani is the sweetest person ever. She loves Jared Padalecki and adores Sam Winchester and we agree on many things. She is smart, beautiful, and has a FANTASTIC sense of humor. Also, I have her phone number, which makes me feel privileged. Most of the pain she causes me is via reblogs and the occasional Rant-Of-Feelings, where we shed mutual tears over whatever is paining us at that particular moment (see: Cas Feels, Sammy Feels, and Misha Collins).
Chris (wugs.tumblr.com)-
Chris is literally one of the most intelligent people I know. He’s talented, outgoing, friendly, and has one of the most entertaining and endearing faces and personalities known to mankind. He’s a linguistics kid at heart, (call him wugsy, seriously, go do it) and ships SteveTony like the perfect person he is. He’s also fucking hilarious. Go follow him or something.
He is the best. I also have his phone number. Any pain that Chris causes me is from either: laughing at a post he made or crying at a post he made/reblog, and also over how perfect he is.
Merry (superwholock-in-camelot.tumblr.com)-
Where do I fucking start. Merry is… Merry. She’s the Arthur to my Merlin, the Tony to my Steve, the Merry to my Pippin, the Sherlock to my John, the Watson to my Holmes, the Dean to my Cas… -sigh-
I touched her soul with my grace/mind melded/bonded/whatever when she was two days old (there is photographic proof) and she has been the center of my affections, attention, and the cause of most of my frustrations since we were babies.
Now, you may ask, what is the pain you allow Merry to inflict on you?
Well. -ahem- If you would kindly refer to my listing of parallel relationships, you may find the names, Dean, Arthur, Merry, Sherlock, and Tony on there.
As in:
Dean Winchester. Arthur Pendragon. Meriadoc (Merry) Brandybuck. Sherlock Holmes. Tony Stark.
Now…those personalities…as wonderful and talented as they all are…
Are you getting where I’m going with this? Like I said. FRUSTRATING.
And…at last, but certainly not least,
Rhena (thisdominionismine.tumblr.com)
Rhena. Wow. How do I word this. Rhena is fantastic. She really is. Brilliant.
She’s snarky, funny, witty, intelligent, cynical, adorable, and is a FANTASTIC friend to me. I really really care for her and I think she might like me or something.
There is uh one thing though…
SHE WRITES THE MOST HEART BREAKING FUCKIGN STORIES EVER.
LIKE WHAT THE FUCK WOMAN. HOW DO YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHERE TO HURT MY SOUL. LIKE HERE, JUST TAKE MY HEART, BECAUSE AFTER READING THAT, I DON’T THINK I’LL NEED IT ANYMORE. OW OW OW OW OW.
And the worst part? YOU LIKE IT. YOU LIKE HOW IT HURTS.
AND YOU COME BACK FOR MORE.
EVERY.
DAMN.
TIME.
I just needed to let you guys know that.
(I love everyone mentioned in this post.)
Dean pushes Castiel down onto the bed, his grip firm, but his gaze gentle. Castiel’s breath hitches as he looks up into dark hazel eyes. He wets his lips and Dean is prowling closer when he’s vaguely aware that the stereo has changed tracks and he’s slightly dazed when Dean’s lustful stare changes into something brighter and his face breaks into a shit-eating grin.
“Hey… Cas,” Dean says lowly, and oh lord he’s basically growling.
“Hey Cas you want me to Rock You Like A Hurricane?”
If anyone has anything in poor taste to say to me about Castiel, I will fight you. I am not concerned about you taking offense. I am not concerned with your opinion. I do not care about your ship. It’s none of my business whether or not you think Misha Collins is a good actor (though I’d argue he is bloody brilliant). I am not worried about whether you like angels or if you have a problem with any of Castiel’s actions.
Because Castiel is not the first person to make poor choices on this show.
Everyone in this show has made mistakes. Dean and Sam are no exception.
Castiel loves Sam and Dean.
Castiel has sacrificed himself over and over again for our boys.
Castiel is a Winchester whether you like it or not.
Because family doesn’t end with blood
and Cas deserves to be recognized as part of ours.
thewinstonisin asked: "I demand Sabriel with something that requires standing on one's toes."
So I have never written Sabriel in my life, which is a problem. But it’s too late to get any practice in so here we go. Please excuse me if the characterization sucks. I am horrible at this.
—
Okay so here’s the thing. Gabriel is screwed. Royally. Loki, God of Mischief, Trickster, and golden winged archangel, messenger-of-the-Lord Gabriel has met his ruin.
He’s kind of in love with a human.
Precisely, Sam Winchester.
So it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that one late night (after Dean has passed out and Castiel has flown off to check the progress with Bobby) when Sam Winchester steps outside to rummage through his duffle bag from the back of the Impala, that when he opens the trunk, instead of hunting supplies, a small mountain of candies awaits him in various, brightly-colored wrappers. As several butterscotches spill over and fall down, hitting the cigarette butt-decorated asphalt, Sam sputters and jerks away in time to hear a bellow of laughter behind him. Eyes wide, and lips pursed, Sam turns to face the culprit.
“Hey kiddo.”
Sam crosses his arms and the skin at the edges of Gabriel’s eyes crinkle in response.
“W-What are you doing here, Gabriel?”
Gabriel smirks and shrugs, eyes bright.
“Hey now, there’s no reason to be cross, Sammy. I thought you’d appreciate my gift. Butterscotch is a favorite of yours.”
Sam shifts under Gabriel’s gaze and glances towards the motel doors.
“Worried about old Deano? Don’t be. He’s out like a light. And… I’m sure Cas is keeping an eye on him.”
Another smirk, and Sam relaxes his tense shoulders.
“Gabe…”
Gabriel’s signature smirk changes into a genuine smile as Sam takes the several steps forward to close the space between them. Sam’s long arms wrap easily around the shorter man and Gabriel’s devilish fingers make their way into Sam’s hair.
“I have to admit, this was a much better gift than the last one.”
Gabriel laughs again, “Yeah, well I figured sweets were the way to go since you rejected the arabian beetles pretty harshly.”
Both recollect the image of Sam opening his duffle bag to find a hoard of massive beetles crawling out, before jumping back with a yelp and running off, long limbs flailing, to find a suitable weapon. Gabriel muffles a snort and Sam frowns, eyebrows raised slightly.
There’s a brief moment of quiet as the sound of long, drawn out sighs fill the air and Sam silently notes that Gabriel smells subtly of peppermint and dark chocolate. Inhaling the scent, Sam closes his eyes and relishes in the warmth that spreads through him where their bodies touch.
“Shh, I’ve got you Sammy.” Gabriel’s voice is soft and Sam takes another deep breath, allowing himself to relax.
Sam feels something in him stir and he backs away to look into deep amber eyes. “Hey..Gabe.” Sam smiles shyly and takes the Trickster’s face in his hands, pressing his lips against Gabriel’s.
Gabriel makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and tugs gently on Sam’s hair, causing the taller man to gasp.
“Aw dammit…” Gabriel presses himself up on his toes, and pulls on the back of Sam’s neck, bringing his lips back down on level with his and Sam laughs into the kiss.
“Come here, shorty.” Another laugh, and Sam bends his head down and kisses Gabriel deeply, wrapping his arms languidly around Gabriel once more, pulling him in closer and holding him tightly.
And Gabriel, archangel Gabriel, one of the most powerful beings in the world, blushes.
—
RHENA I HOPE YOU ARE HAPPY
Anonymous asked: "Prompt: Love letters, midsummer afternoons, and sighs."
Oh wow thank anon but seriously THIS PROMPT.
—
Dean Winchester doesn’t really know if he believes in “love” of the romantic sort. He believes in the catharsis of a good beer, the way the road feels when he’s driving his 1967 Chevy Impala, and he believes in his cassette tapes. He’s heard love songs on the radio. He loves the way being with a woman feels. He likes his hands on the curve of hips, soft, supple lips, the swell of breasts under his hands, and brushing away long, stray hairs from a soft cheek. Dean likes women and he likes sex. He’s loved women before. He’s been happy with women before. But Dean isn’t sure he believes in “falling in love.”
Tracing his fingers over the notes he’s found bound with a leather cord, tucked behind several large volumes of Walt Whitman (really, Cas? Really? Where did he even GET these?), Dean thinks about love.
“Goddammit…” He swallows hard, recognizing the handwriting. The sun is slowly beginning to set and though the morning was unbearably hot, the afternoon provides a soft breeze as the sun begins to dip down behind the curve of the horizon. Dean grabs a beer and sits on the stairs of the front porch, chewing slightly on his bottom lip, brow furrowed and eyes wide.
—
He’s holding the final letter in his hand, the parchment crinkling under the amount of pressure from Dean’s grip. He takes a deep breath and hears a soft sigh behind him. Startled, Dean jumps up and turns around wildly.
Searching blue eyes meet his with a question. Dean feels his mouth go dry. Chapped lips part and Dean steps forward. There’s a moment where Castiel looks almost scared and Dean feels almost hesitant, but a warm breath on his cheek clears his mind and he answers Castiel’s unvoiced question with a kiss.
It’s just a soft press of the lips but there’s heat behind it and Dean’s pulse quickens when he hears the hitch in Castiel’s breathing.
Dean pulls away to look at Cas, whose eyes are bright and there’s a slight curve to his mouth. Dean smiles, unable to stop himself and that’s when he realizes Castiel’s hands have made their way up to his shoulders. Dean pulls Castiel closer, their bodies aligned, hipbones touching, and this time it is Castiel who kisses Dean. And this isn’t lust, it’s sensual, sure, but it’s more than that, it’s important because Cas is important and later in the cool of the night when Cas says Dean’s name, it will sound like always. Like Dean is important and something to be cherished and how the hell is he supposed to react to that? And no, it’s not like falling, he knows, they’ve been through that before. Dean believes in family. He believes in his brother Sam, and he believes in the love reflected in Castiel’s eyes. And he believes in midsummer afternoons.
Someone please help regulate my dreams.
Usually I have really nice, weird, but nice dreams, where Jared Padalecki and Richard Speight Jr. make a giant chocolate wedding cake in my house and Jensen is in my driveway in a red, convertible 1967 Chevy Impala, and Misha is in the seat next to him wearing aviators and a russian kilt of some kind.
And then I have dreams where Dean Winchester is performing fellatio on my cock.
Except I am a 17 year old female, and I do not have a penis.
And I am asexual.
seriously what the hell 
His eyes were hazel.
Cas shreds the grey and brown pieces of grass between his fingers, winter having robbed them of their brilliant green. He wipes his hands on his worn out jeans, effectively staining them with streaks of dirt, and stands up.
Dean sits next to Cas outside on the hood of the Impala. ‘I used to do this with Sammy.’ Cas smiles gently and looks up at the night sky, pretending he isn’t aware of Dean’s eyes on him. He gives up pretending, he turns to meet Dean’s gaze and can feel Dean’s breath on his face, his lips part and he looks deeply into hazel eyes.
The rusted doorknob creakes as Cas makes his way back inside. He lets his fingers linger on the pillow next to him as he slides under the covers, too aware of just how big the bed really is. His eyes are half-lidded as he takes in a deep breath; it’s musky, dark and damp and it fills him with dark water and smoke.
Dean smiles, a flash of white teeth contrast against tan skin and wet lips. His eyes crinkle and Cas feels himself smile back. Dean’s arms are wrapped around Castiel’s lithe frame and his hands are warm. Cas bites his lip gently, catching Dean’s eye and they kiss lazily with the light of the morning sun peering in through the nearby window, casting a warm beam across the two of their bodies, and their eyes are luminous and bright. Azure and hazel.
Cas shivers, the cold wind seeping through the threadbare covers and into his bones, sucking out the very marrow. There’s no point in starting up the fire again, he hasn’t been warm for a very long time. Cas’ breath hitches and he sits up slowly, rolling his shoulders, and his joints and bones creak as they rub harshly against each other. He raises his eyes slowly to the window, and all he can see is grey. He stands up and pulls on an old coat over his clothes and steps outside. He’s barefoot.
Dean leans on his side next to Cas, thumb tracing over his jaw, their bare toes rubbing against the warm earth and Cas places a dandelion in Dean’s hair, earning him a scowl and a rough kiss, Dean’s stubble rubbing against his cheek. They laugh softly.
The snow has transitioned into ice and Cas has lost feeling in his feet over an hour ago. He trudges along, his tears half frozen on his face. He moves along, trying so hard not to think. He finally comes to a stop and the sky is a dark grey, giving no hint of the time of day. Cas wonders how long it’s been since he’s seen the sun. He licks his frost-bitten lips, and hums a slow and dark melody. The one that’s been haunting him for longer than he cares to remember.
Dean’s face is calm and inviting as he pulls Cas with him into the water. It’s cooler than the hot summer sun, but it feels good on his skin, and he trusts Dean, so he leans into the touch, allowing Dean to pull him in deeper waters where his toes come off the lake bottom when tries to keep his head up out of the murky water. Dean has a hand on him though, and says nothing. He smiles and it’s pure sunshine.
Cas makes his way over to the frozen water. His feet are completely numb now, and he sits down, letting the blood soak through the snow and ice and pool down into the dead grass and dirt. He pulls the brown leather tighter around himself. He can’t feel anything anymore, it’s the sentiment it provides rather than any physical comfort. Cas lets the tears roll down his face now, knowing they will fall into the ice and he imagines the cold and the earth consuming him, his flesh, his blood, his tears, and his anguish. He laughs once, voice hoarse and eyes sad, his lips cracked open, and then he sits and tries to remember the sun.
There’s nothing left come summer. Nothing but an old leather coat and dandelions.
thewinstonisin asked: "Because I'm a troll (and write stories involving trolls) and fulfilled all your demands, I come to you on my knees to beg for Mishalecki. :P"
Oh dear. I have never read Mishalecki so I do hope this isn’t cringe-worthy.
I did it from both perspectives. :P
—
Eccentric, snarky, intense – not what he’s used to. But what he wants.
Nicknames. Twitter. Stage kissing. Endless flirtatious pranks. I’ve got you. Checkmate, Jared.
Apparently there’s an OTP meme out there and I have opinions so I decided to do it yup.
—
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