'From the minds of the Diabolical Fangirl Duo @cracklets - Tumblr Blog

Of Flesh and Grace and Something In Between

Title: Of Flesh and Grace and Something In Between Chapter: One Author: Mistina of the Cranky Ol’ Fangirls Beta: MY MOM!!! (Seriously, Mistina’s mother proof read this chapter.) Series: Person of Interest and Supernatural Pairing(s): Shaw/Root (Team Shoot), Dean/Castiel (Destiel) Rating: 14a Spoilers: “Person of Interest” through to 4x11 and "Supernatural” through to 8x23 Length: 2,181 words Summary: Shaw can't believe this is her new life. Afterlife? Unlife? Second life? Ugh. Whatever. She has more important things to figure out. Like how the Hell she became the nexus between a bloody civil war up in Heaven and the battle between two God-like A.I. machines down here on Earth?! Author's Note: After watching "Person of Interest” 4x11, I was in denial and I immediately put together a crossover fix it to pacify myself. Later the show revealed that I had nothing to be worried about. Well, not when it comes to Shaw. ^^;; This is that fix it. I hope you enjoy my canon denial. <3

Bang! The world went black. She felt heavy. Sinking down, down, down. The abyss reached for her. Pulling her down, down, down.

Claws lashed out from the darkness below, eager to have her in their razor blade clutches. Each graze they managed to land sent a jolt of pain, climaxing sharp and lightning quick, throughout her entire being. Her descent quickly became a violent free fall. The claws grasping for her rapidly grew in number and tore into her with increasing accuracy. Gash after bruise after break after scrape… The blows became so frequent that they soon blurred into a single perpetual torment. When the claws finally managed to latch onto her, they jerked her down hard into their bloody embrace. Temperature then made itself known. Within the confinement of the abyss was a heat that ignited her pain into a searing agony. There in the dark, shackled and convulsing, she knew the time had come to atone for the oceans of blood shed by her hands. Suddenly, a burst of light banished the claws and the heat and the pain. Sameen Shaw’s eyes snapped open. There was no desperate intake of breath. Her muscles didn’t jerk, or even so much as flinch, into action. There was no atrophy to indicate that she had been shot and then lying prone in a hospital bed or on a cold slab wearing a toe tag. She merely opened her eyes and found herself to be whole, taking a deep deliberate breath and gently flexing her hands in an attempt to verify her current state. Even disoriented, Shaw realized that those were an awful lot of red flags. She quickly took in her surroundings: attired in a flattering black pant suit, hair pulled back in its usual manner, seated in an office of some sort... She then surveyed the room, trying to gather enough intel to determine her current circumstances: stainless steel, neutral colours and glass… She’d had thought she was in a clinic or a lab if it weren’t for her clothes, the cubicles, the carpeted floors and the nearby water cooler. The office decor told her that her host was most likely cold, detached and efficient. She could relate to such traits which meant she knew all too well that having such a host was not a good thing. Speaking of hosts, she was facing a large desk occupied by a stranger. "Hello Sameen," said the man behind the desk, his voice deep and gravelly. She said nothing, shooting the man a suspicious look. Her eyes visually inspected the stranger while her hands took stock of available resources. Searching her pockets, her hands came out empty while her eyes yielded some information, but nothing helpful. The man seemed completely out of place here. The office was sleek but the man seemed… ragged. He had unkempt dark hair and a five o’clock shadow along his jaw with a wrinkled trench coat over a rumpled business suit. The look was topped off with a blue tie hanging crooked around his neck. His look said ‘unpolished average joe ’ but her instincts screamed that the look was just a ruse. “I apologize in advance for my terrible bedside manner. I’m not known for my social skills," said the man, stiff but cordial. “What are you known for?” she asked automatically. To seek and acquire information while giving up little to none in return was a reflex deeply conditioned into her psyche. A reflex which seemed to have paid off in this instance, for she spied a brief flash of sadness in the man’s squinted eyes before they were quickly schooled back into neutrality. “Depends on who you ask,” he replied mysteriously, “but you will know me as the one who raised you from perdition.” “So I did die,” she stated impassively. “Yes, you did.” The man deadpanned, just as impassively. Wearing a lazy smirk, Shaw leaned back in her chair, swaying slightly as it had wheels, and theatrically gave the room a once over. “Not exactly what I expected.” “If you were expecting fire and brimstone, that is where you were headed.” Shaw chuckled wryly at that. “So why am I here, wherever ‘here’ is?” She gestured lazily to indicate the office they were in. “This is Heaven and you’re here because I have a proposition for you.” “Heaven, huh?” she mumbled, eyeing the room dubiously. “What you see is your soul’s interpretation of this foreign and more complex plane of existence,” Castiel explained as though this was matter of fact, which it most certainly wasn’t for Shaw. “Through blinders I’ve put in place so that your soul can exist here without harm.” Shaw raised a brow at the afterthought, but let is pass for the moment. “And you are?” “My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord.” Her eyes widened slightly, the only hint that her calm demeanor was disturbed. “Reeaaallly?” she drawled. “Yes.” “So what does an angel of the Lord want with a recently deceased sociopathic assassin?” Castiel suddenly broke eye contact, a small frown on his lips, which troubled Shaw as he had not shown any obvious signs of emotion up until this point. “I’m offering you a place amongst our ranks.” “Excuse me?” she sputtered incredulously. Whatever answer she was anticipating, it was definitely not that. “We’ve been fighting a war for the last few years,” he explained calmly, though there was an undertone of sadness. To Shaw it seemed as though he had anticipated her disbelief which indicated he wasn’t completely socially incompetent, or—at least—not as much as he thought. “The death toll is devastating. Our Father had created us as immortals and so we were never given the ability to procreate. Hence every fallen brother and sister is a permanent deduction to our population.” “So, what?” asked Shaw, unable to slot herself into this scenario. "You’re going to hang a halo from a wire tied around my head and glue some wings to my back?” The angel chuckled. “That’s something a friend of mine would say…” A small, fond smile tugged at his lips as he briefly reminisced. “...I wish to imbue your soul with a fraction of my grace. With practice and training, it could blend with your soul and make you something… in between.” “‘Something in between’? The lack of a proper name really inspires confidence,” huffed Shaw sarcastically. “I must admit, this has never been done before…” “Oh, now I’m relieved.” the angel narrowed his eyes angrily at Shaw’s sarcasm but they didn’t deter her. “So I have to choose between being a lab rat in Heaven or burning in Hell?” “No. No. I would never—” said Castiel adamantly before taking a deep calming breath. “I don’t want to force your hand. I have selected you for many reasons but the most important one is that I firmly believe you do not truly deserve to go to Hell. No matter what you decide, you have a place here.” Shaw raised a suspicious brow. "But I only have your word to go on." "True, but I can't think of any way to prove my sincerity without being accused of using"—he did, honest to God, air quotes—"'angel mojo'. Can you?" Shaw gently bit her lip to stifle a chuckle creeping up her throat so she could focus on the matter at hand. “No. Not with angels having the mojo to manipulate my will while I'm none the wiser.” “We are capable of such methods, but I have no desire to use them. I’m an advocate for humanity’s free will.” As he finished this statement his jaw clenched imperceptibly and his eyes squinted. Whether in anger or sadness, she couldn’t tell, but either way there was a story there. “Yeah… Not sure how I feel about that.” She trusted humanity about as much as she trusted the ‘angel’ before her. She leaned back in her chair, running her tongue across her teeth behind sealed lips. “Alright,” she said eventually, “why the Hell not?” She smirked wickedly, amused by her own choice of words. “I don’t understand,” said Castiel, head tilting slightly in confusion. “The way I see it, if I’m still alive and this is some kind of elaborate ploy then everything you’ve suggested is impossible. So anything you do plan to do with me I can more than handle. In short, if I’m alive then there’s no issue here.” she shrugged nonchalantly as she finished her first point, her face turning deadly serious when she moved on to her second. “If I am, in fact, dead, then I am at your mercy. At the mercy of you and whoever and whatever else exists after death. Life after death is completely unknown to me, like it is to all humans. I’m lost in the dark with no tools or information. So if I’m to survive, you are currently my best source of information, my best chance.” “Your logic is impressive,” said Castiel thoughtfully, eyes squinted as if he were studying the soul before him and calculating his next move, “but I must urge you to give my offer more consideration. Whether or not you believe that the offer is genuine, what I’m offering will be quite… permanent. And for the deceased, permanent is potentially a very, very long time.” “Your concern is touching…” teased Shaw. “I don’t understand. You’re a sociopa—” “I am, but I was being sarcastic.” Shaw rolled her eyes, amused. “Look, don’t you worry about my decisions. I don’t have enough intel to work with, so consenting is my best option. However… On the off chance that all this is legit and you stick to your word, I will only consent if you meet one condition.” “A reasonable request, if it’s something I can provide.” He leaned forward slightly, supporting himself with his forearms and interlacing his hands on the desk. “What is your condition?” Shaw clenched her jaw, thrown off by her own impulsive request. Finding out that she had died was straightforward. Learning that this guy in a trench coat was an angel was surprising but easy enough to accept. Being told that this office was Heaven, well, that wasn’t much of a stretch after this 'desk jockey' angel. But this… lingering attachment. That unsettled her. “I want to be able to help my friends when they need it.” Unspoken, though surprisingly understood by the socially awkward angel, was ‘I want to see them again’. “If I were to deny you, I would be a hypocrite.” Finding the new information intriguing, Shaw quirked a brow which had Castiel smiling in a cryptic manner. "I’m sure you’ll find out all about that soon enough." “I’m sure I will,” said Shaw with an amused smirk. “I accept your condition, Sameen Shaw.” Castiel stood suddenly, his face deadly serious. “Do you consent to my proposal?” Shaw raised her right hand and held her left one over the heart, parodying a sworn testimony. “I do.” The angel frowned slightly at her levity, but accepted her response as sincere. He reached down to open a desk drawer and retrieved a simple glass bottle that contained something that was anything but simple: a small spec of golden light surrounded by a faint but alluring aura that seamlessly flowed from colour to colour. “Wow.” breathed Shaw, thinking that, if her current situation wasn’t real, she owed someone a huge ‘thank you’ for whatever seriously awesome drugs she was on. “I have broken off a piece of my grace and placed it in this container,” explained Castiel, though unnecessarily. “When I say that this is a part of me, I mean it in the most literal sense. My thoughts, my feelings, my memories... All of me is in this shard as much as it is a part of the rest of my grace.” “Wow, sounds pretty intimate.” whistled Shaw, looking up through her eyelashes playfully. “Can I add another condition? Because it’s starting to sound like you need to buy me a drink first.” “Are you done?” asked Castiel bluntly. “Sure, sure.” Shaw motioned for the angel to continue, which he did with a sigh. “Theoretically, when I fuse this shard with your soul, you'll have access to all that I have learned and experienced. I will do my best to limit its influence so my grace doesn't consume you.” at Shaw’s slight frown, he shrugged helplessly. “As I said, this process is unprecedented and is, as you might have guessed, dangerous and very likely will be extremely painful.” Her frown turned into one of grim resolve. “I can take it.” With one last sad look, Castiel opened the container and the shard gravitated up and out to circle idly around his hand. As it crossed his palm he ensnared it in his fist and, in a blink, the angel was right next to Shaw with his arm elbow deep into her chest. Grace met Soul. Burning, searing, tearing, breaking. Mind suddenly bereft of thought. Bleeding, crying, waning, fading The world went white. END of CHAPTER ONE

#team shoot #destiel #spn #poi #person of interest #supernatural #fic #crossover #au

phoenixyfriend

Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

#phoenixyfriend #reblog

sailorshipper

waltz your cares away

Inspired in part by a scene from Crimson Peak and by This drawing by TinnyDanny of TTICSYost

Just a little Danny Phantom Pompous Pep fan fic for Valentines day

thanks to mistina60 for beta reading

Ship: Pompous pep

Anxious, Danny searched the well dressed crowd for any sign of Vlad. This was only the second ball he had attended with his lover so Danny still felt out of place among the all of these high class men and women. It was so different from just hanging out with his friends or going to a movie with either Vlad or Sam and Tucker. The only reason he had had to come along was at Vlad’s request, which included a fair amount of bribery: a new ball gown that had been specially designed and tailored just for Danny.

Keep reading

#ficlet #dp #danny phantom #pompous pep #sailor shipper #sailorshipper

sailorshipper

Vlad at work to make in through school. Drawn for TinnyVlad from TTICSY

cracklets

“Hey Vlad!” Danny called out as he closed the heavily ornate door of the castle like mansion behind him. “I’m in the study,” echoed a response from what is assumed to be the study that lay somewhere inside this vast manor. The loud casual, almost distracted, voice elicited a warm smile on the Danny’s face. Beaming, he quickly adjusted the strap of the backpack slung across his back before giddily rushing off through the corridors, navigating the maze of halls with an intimately familiar ease. “Vlad!” he exclaimed as he burst into a sunlit room with opulent furnishings and shelves upon shelves of regal books. “You’ll never guess what I saw today!” Vlad, a tall man with long grey hair pulled back and subtle glasses perched upon his nose, was rifling through papers at a grand desk. He turned in his office chair, crossing his arms, to quirk an inquisitive brow at Danny. “Oh?” asked Vlad. When the boy’s expression turned to one of mischievous glee the corners of his lips twitched downwards. When the boy started outright chuckling he frowned. “What is it, Danny?” he asked again, extremely wary, this time making certain to articulate his query. Danny ignored Vlad in favor of shucking his backpack by the doorway, next to the nearest bookcase, and snickering when Vlad scrunched his nose up in frustration. After a couple more snickers he cut Vlad some slack and scooped up the bag while rambling melodramatically, “I know. I know. Backpack goes on the backpack chair.” With a ridiculous flourish he carefully placed the bag in question on what was apparently its assigned seat, which was on the right side of the desk. “Thank you.” Vlad said curtly, eyes narrowing as he watched the boy lean against the desk. “Does the name ‘Ralph’ mean anything to you?” asked Danny with an air of mock innocence that was instantly exposed by a very cheeky smirk when Vlad froze at the question. “No… Doesn’t ring a bell…” Vlad brushed off, knowing full well that Danny had caught the nearly imperceptible tensing of his shoulders. He was caught with no way out, but he hoped the boy would be merciful. No such luck.

Damn nosy stubborn seventeen year olds. “Really?” Danny feigned confusion, casually shifting to lean on the man’s nervously taut shoulder in an pensive manner. He tapped his finger against his chin dramatically for gratuitous emphasis. “Maybe it was a relative of yours who has that lovely framed photo under ‘Employee of the Month’ at Ralph’s.” Vlad sighed as Danny quickly fished out his cell phone from his back pocket and quickly pulled up a snapshot, “Is he a brother you don’t like to talk about? Maybe a cousin?” “You know full well that’s me, Danny.” Vlad grumbled. “Aw, I thought you would deny it just a little bit!” The boy stuck his tongue out playfully before plopping himself down in the last available chair, which was on Vlad’s left. “Seriously, though. What’s with the award?” he said, joking manner suddenly turning to genuine curiosity. Vlad sighed deeply in frustration before collecting himself. He removed his glasses, putting them aside on the desk, straightened his posture and turned to face Danny properly. “As you know, Daniel, I am new money.”

Danny flinched at the formal use of ‘Daniel’. Vlad only did that during tutoring sessions when he was all business and no play. The silence that followed confirmed it, he was in lecturer mode. Danny groaned, having to play pupil. “Yeah, I know.” “And ‘new money’ means?” Vlad pressed, like a elementary school teacher helping a kid through a homework. “What?” Danny balked at Vlad’s sudden patronizing words, but he grumbled an answer anyway. “That you didn’t have money before?” “Exactly. And what does one do before striking it rich?” Danny rolled his eyes to hide just how much the words hurt. “Get a job?” Vlad smirked. “There you go! Mystery solved!” he ruffled Danny’s hair and spun around in his office chair to return to whatever it was that he had been working on. “I was only teasing…” Danny said, turning away with a huff. “I really wanted to know the story about you working at Ralph’s... There was no need to be mean.” He crossed his arms and was totally not pouting. Pouting was what kids did. Danny wasn’t a kid. Vlad looked over his shoulder at the miserable sight behind him and was immediately contrite. He swiveled back towards Danny and gently tugged the boy’s seat cushion so the chair would spin towards him. Danny didn’t resist, but he refused to look Vlad in the eye. The older man sighed. “I went too far, didn’t I?” “You know you did.” Danny mumbled softly, deflating a little. Vlad carefully put what he hoped was a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am an old snickerdoodle, aren’t I.” Danny looked up at that. “What? No you’re not!” he exclaimed, then was struck with a sudden realization. “‘Employee of the Month?’” Vlad looked away in embarrassment, confirming Danny’s suspicions.”You were worried by that?! I didn’t even read the plaque! I just thought it was funny that you, a rich eccentric scientist and half ghost, were a cashier!” “I should have known that you didn’t mean it that way, I admit.” Vlad fidgeted nervously, still avoiding Danny’s gaze. “But I couldn’t help but take it that way...” An awkward silence fell over them. “I suppose we’re both sensitive about… age, huh?” Danny finally voiced the issue, looking up sheepishly from under his bangs. “With good reason.” Vlad gritted through clenched teeth. “Hey…” said Danny softly, gently taking Vlad’s hand. “I love you just as you are, like I’m sure you love me as I am, right?” Vlad didn’t move, except to gently squeeze the hand that held his. “I do.” he said and finally looked Danny in the eye. “Everyone else can go fudge themselves.” Danny laughed, “that is the closest to an actual curse word I’ll hear you say, isn’t it?” “I don’t know, I’m sure there are other desserts that sound like bad words.” Vlad was smiling now. “I’ll be sure to look into that later. I do believe I was in the middle of telling you about my days at Ralph’s.” The joyous smile that bloomed on Danny’s face at the words had Vlad’s chest tighten fondly at the sight. “Yes. You were just about to tell me how you got that spiffy photo put on the wall.” Danny said as he rolled his chair so it was flush against Vlad’s. He then interlocked their hands firmly atop the joined armrests. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the degrading stupidity I had to endure working there! The award may as well have been handed to me on a silver platter.” “I think I can imagine a little.” Danny chuckled, before sighing happily and settling back to hear the adventures of Vlad Plasmius: Cashier.

#ficlet #pompous pep #dp #danny phantom

mistina60-deactivated20250108

Destiel Musical Episode: Let It Go!

The snow glows white on the mountain tonight Castiel: The blood runs thick through my fingers tonight Not a footprint to be seen Castiel: No salvation, though I prayed A kingdom of isolation, Castiel: The Kingdom in desolation And it looks like I’m the queen. Castiel: And it looks like by my blade ~*~ The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside Castiel: My grace is screaming for forgiveness it won’t find Couldn’t keep it in, heaven knows I tried Castiel: Couldn’t keep in line, heaven knows I tried ~*~ Don’t let them in, don’t let them see Castiel: Don’t disobey, Don’t doubt your faith Be the good girl you always have to be Castiel: Be a soldier just as God had ordained Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know Castiel: Conceal, don’t feel, don’t use free will ~*~ Well, now they know Castiel: Well now I feel… ~*~ Let it go, let it go Castiel: Let me go, let me go Can’t hold it back anymore Castiel: Too late to turn back now Let it go, let it go Castiel: Let me go, let me go Turn away and slam the door Castiel: Too much damage has been done ~*~ I don’t care Castiel: I regret What they’re going to say Castiel: But words won’t change a thing Let the storm rage on, Castiel: I can’t undo my deeds *sighs* The cold never bothered me anyway Castiel: This world never wanted me anyway ~*~ It’s funny how some distance Dean: Shit, how can you say all that?! Makes everything seem small Dean: You did what you thought was right! And the fears that once controlled me Dean: Free will ain’t supposed to be easy Can’t get to me at all Dean: Hell, I screw it up all the time! ~*~ It’s time to see what I can do Dean: Us ‘mud monkeys’ had centuries To test the limits and break through Dean: And still don’t know how to think freely No right, no wrong, no rules for me Dean: What’s right, what’s wrong, if we don’t know I’m free Dean: How could you know? ~*~ Let it go, let it go Dean: Please don’t go, Please don’t go I am one with the wind and sky Dean: Don’t leave me with your god damn mess Let it go, let it go Dean: Please don’t go, Please don’t go

You’ll never see me cry

Dean: Shit, wait… *spoken* Cas, I need you! ~*~ Castiel: *spoken* …What? ~*~ Here I stand Dean: On my knees And here I’ll stay Dean: I beg you to stay Let the storm rage on Dean: I won’t say it again~ ~*~ My power flurries through the air into the ground Castiel: My vessel suddenly can’t breathe and his heart pounds My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around Castiel: My grace is soaring even though I haven’t left the ground And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast Castiel: I know it’s wrong as I have sins to atone for I’m never going back, Castiel: But I’ll stay with you, Dean The past is in the past Dean: The past is in the past ~*~ Let it go, let it go Castiel: I won’t go, Dean: You won’t go And I’ll rise like the break of dawn Both: And together we’ll hunt monsters down Let it go, let it go Castiel: I won’t go, Dean: You won’t go That perfect girl is gone Both: No one’s perfect anyhow ~*~ Here I stand Both: Here we stand In the light of day Both: Keeping evil at bay Let the storm rage on, Dean: *same time as Cas* Hell can bring it on Castiel: *same time as Dean* Heaven can bring it on The cold never bothered me anyway Both: Our bond can stop anything they send our way ~*~ *CRICKETS* ~*~ Dean: *spoken* What the hell just happened?! Sam: *shouts* GAAAYYYYYY!!!!!! Dean: *shouts* Shut up, Sam! —————————————————— If any of the talented singers here on tumblr would like to sing this they have my blessing AS LONG AS I get a link. ;)

#medium: everything else #spn #supernatural #destiel #parody #destiel au #parody lyrics #let it go #frozen #disney

Fire Alarms are for Emergencies ONLY! (Though in this Case I’ll Make an Exception)

Title: Fire Alarms are for Emergencies ONLY! (Though in this Case I’ll Make an Exception) Author(s): Mistina60 of the Cranky ol’ Fangirls Beta: none Series: Supernatural Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel Rating: 14a for mature language Spoilers: I don’t think there are any. This is very AU. Length: 3, 951 words Summary: Inspired by a prompt that I’m quite sure wasn’t meant for this particular fandom but here it is as a Destiel University AU! “Third year Theology major, Castiel, had become accustomed to stupid and/or drunk students pulling the alarms throughout the year at stupid hours. He didn’t like it, but he had come to accept it. This particular prank alarm, however, might make them all worth while.” (Revised 2016/03/05)

—- PLEASE NOTE: Castiel is not socially awkward because he’s asexual. He is socially awkward because he’s Castiel! No matter what sexuality, gender, species, or universe he finds himself in, Castiel will still be Castiel. No two people are alike and asexuals are no exception. We vary from socially inept to socially adequate to social butterflies to social gods. We come in all shapes, sizes and colors. We all are capable of having a wide variety of skills, interests, hobbies, preferences, etc. Castiel is socially awkward because he’s CASTIEL! —- A shrill beeping sound shattered the comfortable silence of the dorms. The loud insistent alarm roused the students into a chorus of sighs and groans and cussing. Castiel, a third year Theology major, was among them.

His eyes fluttered opened as he heaved a frustrated, yet unsurprised, sigh. University life was nothing like in the movies or on TV, but that didn’t stop certain classmates from behaving like silver screen buffoons. Yawning, he sat up to stretch and rub his eyes into wakefulness. Every year there were idiots pulling the fire alarm at the dorm for laughs, frequently and at very unfortunate hours of the day. With another yawn, Castiel reached for the trench coat he kept folded on the nightstand, a habit he started when he had finally realized that false alarms were a common occurrence in dorm life. Hell, he couldn’t even remember when the last fire drill was since they were lost in the torrents of prank alarms. The dorm's population had already been lectured by the fire department twice this semester alone, but lectures have never deterred morons in the past and probably never will. Sluggishly, he turned his head to check his alarm clock for the time: 3:00AM. Rolling his eyes, he got to his feet and fetched his shoes then draped his trench coat over his sweatpants and tee shirt. Once sufficiently dressed, he left his room into a bustling hallway. He was on the twelfth floor, so not only were his dorm mates whining about the 3:00AM wake up call but they were also moaning about the twenty four flights of stairs they had to climb at 3:00AM (the trudge down and then the march back up). Castiel didn’t mind the stairs so much, but it seemed that his colleagues had forgotten that it was freezing cold and snowing outside, which he also didn’t mind, but the cacophony of complaints was going to hit record levels tonight, which he did mind. With another sigh, he was pulled into the tangle of half-asleep uni students in various states of dress. After ten minutes of descending the steps—enduring elbow jabs, having his toes stepped on, and being kicked repeatedly in the shin—he finally reached the lobby. Castiel flipped up the collar of his coat and pulled the fabric so that it wrapped his shoulders more firmly. Braced for the weather—and the inevitable whining—he stepped outside. He shuddered when the biting wind grazed his stubbled cheeks as soon as the sliding doors opened. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he crossed the street to the adjacent building where the other evacuees were gathering. He found himself a spot behind them, leaning back against the glass wall while the others surrounded him. This particular position was a strategy he had developed over the years: have a building at his back and use the crowd as a human shield against the worst of the cold. That it usually ended up being a great spot to 'people watch' was an unexpected perk. ‘People watching’ was a guilty pleasure of his. Well, less of a guilty pleasure and more of a deeply conditioned habit. Castiel had always had trouble relating to others—the boys were all fixated on tits and ass, the girls were always primping themselves to catch a boy’s eye, then there was him completely uncomprehending and uninterested in the preoccupations of either—so he had always observed others in an attempt to learn. Learn he did. Albeit nothing useful in regards to his social awkwardness, but what he did discover was entertaining. Early morning alarms usually resulted in the most interesting fashion choices. Sometimes there were mismatched shoes or socks and sometimes there were onesies. He’d seen flannel pajamas with big fluffy bunny slippers, super hero jammies, various plush dolls and blankets, costumes you couldn’t even imagine being worn on Halloween, a jock in a neon pink bathrobe and boots with a cheerleader in a football jersey and heels... He’d even seen a scary vinyl and zipper garment though he truly wished he hadn’t. And those were just the ones who managed to get some fabric on before evacuating. There was always at least one person caught straight out of the shower who ended up outside in just a towel or oneperson who sleeps in the nude and only managed to wrap the comforter around themselves. Then there’s the occasional streaker, of course, but never in this kind of weather, thank God… As Castiel reminisced about the 'best dressed' of past fire alarms, a shivering form caught his eye. The poor guy was hunched over, arms wrapped around himself in a futile—as he was only dressed in shorts and boots—attempt at warmth. He was large and muscular, neither of which would help against the cold, with slight love handles, which would onlyimperceptibly help against the cold. His nose, cheeks and ears were so pink they were practically glowing, his teeth chattered so loudly Castiel could almost hear it through the clamoring crowd, and his breath produced sporadic puffs of air like a chimney. Castiel nearly started getting chills just watching the guy, he looked so miserable. Castiel frowned. Though seeing his fellow students caught in the cold in various states of undress was hilarious in hindsight, it was never quite so funny in real time. When faced with people in genuine need, Castiel would always do his best to help and today, at 3:00AM in the cold snow, he was no different. Being the bleeding heart that he was, he didn’t hesitate to make his way over to stand behind the freezing guy and, without a thought, wrapped him up in the trench coat. The fact that such a gesture could be interpreted as anything but being a good Samaritan never crossed his mind because… As was mentioned earlier, his mind just wasn’t wired that way. “What the fuck?!” The guy yelped in surprise. He struggled but Castiel held him firmly. “You’ll get sick if you stand out here in your just your boxers. You might even die, in fact.” Castiel could see him flush, well he could see ears which turned from pink to red. “Better to die in the cold because I’m a dumbass who forgot my coat then to live going around molesting people under the pretense of warming them up,” the man ground out through chattering teeth. “Molest?” Castiel blinked in genuine confusion before he understood the man’s accusation. “Is this sexual for you?” he asked, finally recalling how his actions could be viewed by people who weren’t him. Oops. The guy wriggled around to face his captor. “What the Hell are you playing at—” Once he was finally facing Castiel, the anger seemed to dissipate only to be replaced by a hazy recognition and a fierce curiosity. “Oh. You’re that guy everyone talks about.” Castiel tilted his head owlishly, even more confused now. “You know! The religious robot dude—” the man bit his lip in shame, realizing too late that the words were rude. “Oh, that guy,” Castiel said, dumbfounded but completely unoffended. He wasn't bothered by such teasing in his first year, so now, 3 years later, he really couldn't care less. However, he was surprised that this shivering man was more remorseful of his own misdeeds even in the face of someone who was allegedly even more in the wrong. “I suppose that’s me. My name is Castiel.” Before the man in his arms could respond, a floor rep called for silence. “Alright, everybody, listen up!” The floor rep waited for an adequate silence—as completely quieting a large group of college students was never going to happen—before continuing. “Until the fire department checks the building we are notto go back inside. Unfortunately for us, we have to walk two blocks for shelter. Head for Building F, people!” “What about this building?!” shouted someone from the now even more disgruntled crowd. ”No one here has the keys to that building,” was the blunt response, eliciting groans from the crowd. ”It sucks, I know. But let's get moving before someone catches something!” The man in Castiel's arms suddenly struggled—again—to break free but—again—he held fast. ”Is it more preferable to walk the two blocks in just your shorts then to walk it with me and my coat?” he asked uncertainly, torn between the awkwardness of the situation—that he was now aware of—and his moral obligation to not to let someone die. “Yes!” the man snapped irritably. “Because I don’t know you and it’s creepy!” Confidence lost and more than a little embarrassed, Castiel let go. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…” The man stepped back, looking slightly contrite as he eyed Castiel warily. “Your rep isn’t exaggerated, is it?” he asked softly before turning around to make his way to the shelter of Building F. Though shaken by this failed interpersonal interaction, Castiel was undeterred. He swiftly removed his coat to place it firmly on the man’s shoulders before speeding away ahead of him. “Hey!” the man exclaimed in surprise. “Dammit, man! Wait up!” Castiel slowed down so the man could catch up. Once the man was at his side and matched his pace, Castiel asked apprehensively, “Was that creepy too?” “Wha? No! I— Well... Dammit!” He took a steadying breath. “My name is Dean.” “Oh.” Castiel blinked in surprise. “Hello, Dean,” he said softly, teeth chattering slightly as he was just starting the feel the cold now that he was without his coat. The man—Dean—smiled awkwardly. “Thanks, man.” Castiel was shivering visibly now, but his smile was warm and sincere. They walked in silence for less than a minute before Dean exclaimed, “Dammit!” Castiel stopped dead in his tracks at the sudden curse. “Look, I appreciate your help, but I feel like a dick wearing your coat while you freeze your ass off.” “But I offered it to you," said Castiel, perplexed. “Besides, I’m wearing more clothing than you are and it’s only two blocks...” “So?! I still feel like a dick…” Dean trailed off as he swiftly—as if he’d lose his nerve if he didn’t move quickly—bridged the gap between them to pull Castiel under the coat alongside him. Castiel raised an intrigued brow at the contradictory gesture. “This makes you feel better?” “Much better!” said Dean with conviction, grinning wide. “Okay, then.” Castiel smiled through the cold induced shudders, though he was feeling much warmer already. “Let’s go. It’s really cold out.” “No. Really? I haven’t noticed.” Dean stuck out his tongue playfully and had them both laughing. They hastily made their way to their toasty warm destination. They were so focused on getting to said shelter—it’s fucking cold, after all—that they didn't banter. However, for reasons that eluded them both, they grinned like idiots the whole way there. Eventually they finally crossed the threshold of their temporary shelter, into a dimly lit lobby that held the much coveted artificially heated air. At first, the heat was like a smack to the face, which had the pair hiss from the shock, but the stuffy air soon enveloped them and they sagged with relief. “Thank God!” exclaimed Dean, whooping with joy. That is, until he noticed that Castiel was moving away. “Wait!” Dean grabbed the other man’s arm, a physical reaction that seemed almost unconscious to Castiel. He tilted his head again. "I wasn’t leaving, just vacating the coat.” When Dean moved to remove the garment, Castiel held out a halting hand. “Keep it until you get your hands on... some more clothes.” he said, in a way he hoped wouldn’t be misconstrued as sexual innuendo or leering considering his mistake earlier. He was genuinely concerned, seeing as the lobby was full of tired students of varying degrees of maturity and under that coat... “Oh.” Dean flushed, only just becoming self-conscious now that the situation was no longer dire. With the evacuees casually milling about the lobby of Building F as they waited to return to their dorms, Dean would feel very exposed in just his boxers. In fact, he already felt pretty exposed even with the coat on, which made losing it all the more daunting. Awkwardly tugging on the coat’s lapels, pulling the coat tighter around his trembling form, he mumbled a shy, “Thanks.” “No problem!” said Castiel as he looked about for a place to settle down and wait for the green light to trek back to the dorms. Other than the floor, there were only the chairs—the ones set out for parents and other visitors across from the reception desk—but they were all currently occupied by his dorm mates. Castiel had anticipated this, seeing as in situations like these, all chairs—no matter how cheap or uncomfortable—are always snatched up right away. However, over the last couple of years Castiel had learned that the chairs in a corner, obscured by a large potted plant, tend to get missed. Fortunately, they had been missed again tonight and Castiel could quickly claim one for himself. He claimed another chair for Dean too, who gratefully accepted the fairly isolated seat. “What’s your major?” asked Castiel, both to help the poor guy relax—after all, he’s had a rough night so far—and out of genuine curiosity. “Mechanical Engineering,” Dean replied easily. “Uh… First year,” he quickly added as an afterthought. “So cars and trains and planes and… robots?” Dean flinched at the jab. “Cars, mostly. Robotics is a completely different field…” he answered with an apprehensive smile. “Relax. I was just teasing,” Castiel reassured gently, while his mind reverently reviewed what he had said over and over looking for mistakes. Not that he could recognize social missteps if there were any. “For the record, I’m not a robot. I’m just socially awkward...” he faltered, unintentionally emphasizing his point. “You seem to be doing fine. Well, except for attacking me from behind.” Dean joked without thinking. His face clearly expressed that he was internally kicking himself for bringing that up after the admission. Castiel couldn’t help but find this endearing. “About that…” started Castiel, nervously worrying his lower lip. For reasons that completely eluded him, he wanted Dean to understand why he did the strange things he did. He didn’t want to be misunderstood by Dean. More specifically, he didn’t want Dean to see him the way everyone else seemed to. For Castiel this was strange as he had never felt such a compulsion before, but he couldn’t deny that he felt such a compulsion now. However, without any prior experience of successfully expressing himself or of others coming to understand him, he found himself at a total loss as to how to proceed. “About what?” asked Dean, oblivious to Castiel’s inner turmoil but that’s how any new acquaintance should be. “About what you called ‘attacking you from behind.’” Castiel clarified carefully, notwithstanding the air quotes he did out of habit. He didn’t understand why he was pressing the matter. After all, compulsions didn’t have to be carried out. With effort they could be ignored, but he wasn’t even trying to resist. “I didn't mean it like that,” said Dean, trying for nonchalant but he still came across as uneasy. “Well… Okay, I guess I did... But now I know that you aren’t a creeper and actually had pure intentions, though I wouldn’t recommend going around and doing that to other people—” “It just never occurred to me that that could be considered… sexual,” Castiel blurted. “What? Why not?” asked Dean. Though he was obviously taken aback, he somehow managed not to react aggressively and respond amicably. “Well, I’ve never really thought about that stuff—” Castiel rambled until he realized that Dean clearly didn’t understand what he was trying to say, much less glean the point he was attempting to make. “So.... Are you saying that you’ve never—" “Yeah, I’ve never…” Castiel cleared his throat and not so subtly changed the subject. “Here I go, being socially awkward again," he said, trying to sound casual even though inside he was freaking out. He was so afraid that he had been about to make a huge mess that he aborted the topic altogether. Though Castiel worried about making a social faux pas, he noticed that a hope lingered: a hope that he and Dean would meet up again. After tonight, that is. He then realized that he really wanted to talk with Dean again, so much so that it was terrifying. He rarely bonded with anyone—much less upon the first encounter and never after meeting a person in such a bizarre way—yet here he was, anxious about how he came across to Dean. Castiel hoped he was making a good impression but he feared he wasn’t since precedence proved otherwise. At the same time, he wanted Dean to knoweverything about him and still accept him: his social awkwardness, his family baggage, his steadfast moral compass, his asexuality...Everything. "To clear up the rest of what you know of me from my reputation, yes I am male, and identify as such, so that part of my ‘reputation’ is correct." Castiel returned to clearing up his ‘robot’ reputation, setting aside his concerns and confusion for when he had the time to review and resolve them. When Dean chuckle at the start of his literal break down of his reputation, he relaxed. "Religious? Not so much, though I am majoring in Theology.” “‘Theology?’” Another swing, another miss. “I study religions.” “Oh…” Dean looked like he suspected there was much more to this than was he being told, and he was right to, but he politely let it slide much to Castiel’s relief. “So you’re a brain, huh?” Castiel tilted his head, which had Dean chuckling again, having obviously recognized the mannerism from before. “Book smart. All research and reading and studying..." Dean elaborated, trailing off as a thought struck him. "Hey, you’d get along great with my little brother, Sammy. He’s a brain too! In fact, he's studying Law at Stanford,” he said, beaming with pride. "Stanford? Really?” Castiel's eyebrows shot up, well and truly impressed, but couldn’t help teasing a little. “What, are you guys blue bloods or something?” Considering Dean was a Mechanical Engineering major specializing in automotive repair, Castiel was pretty much certain that wasn’t how ‘Sammy’ got accepted into the Stanford Law program. The fact that he had even bothered to reply creatively, with an ironic remark, confused him. He never thought he could be playful, yet here he was teasing someone he had only just met and wasn’t worried about of being misinterpreted. Huh. “Not even close!” Dean laughed at that, clearly catching and appreciating the subtle humor which only baffled Castiel further. “He’s just wicked smart. He got in on a full scholarship!” he continued to boast lovingly. “Oh wow..." Castiel's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he smiled happily. Dean’s pride and joy was quite infectious. "I’m nowhere near that brainy, though.” “You just said you’re a Theology major, right? So you’ve got to be pretty close, at least.” Castiel preened at the praise, which unexpectedly made Dean nervous. He could tell by how Dean’s elated expression faltered and how he cleared his throat. “The scholarship was a huge help, but we still had to work to pay for the outstanding expenses...” Dean tried to resume the safe topic that was his brother, but it seemed that he had only managed to talk himself into a figurative corner. Castiel presumed that there was more to his tale, probably explaining why a man in his early thirties was a First Year Uni student, but now wasn’t the time to delve into that. So, as Dean had done for him, Castiel gave him an out. “Your brother sounds amazing, Dean.” “Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, then immediately became flustered when he realized too late the nickname that had unintentionally rolled off his tongue. “Uh… I mean—” “Cas?” “Uh…” “Never been called ‘Cas’ before, but I like it,” said Castiel, smiling softly, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back. “Much better than ‘Cassie’, anyhow.” Dean laughed at that, but before he could asked about that other nickname the floor rep was calling for everyone’s attention. “Alright, we can head back now!” the floor rep bellowed over the chattering of tired and frustrated students, motioning them out the doors. “By the way, the Firemen are really pissed off this time so if one of you think of pulling this prank again… Just remember the last few lectures and expect the next one to be much, much worse.” Dean and Castiel carefully got to their feet, their muscles groaning in protest from sleep deprivation, the sudden shifts in temperature and the exercise that was completely unwanted in such conditions. They stretched, bracing themselves for one last excursion. Before Castiel could take a step towards the doors, Dean held the trench coat open in invitation. Chuckling, Cas settled in next to Dean and asked, “Ready?” Dean rolled his eyes, a gesture that seemed almost fond but Castiel couldn’t be sure. “Fuck, let’s just get this over with!” He pulled the coat tighter around them and he hurried them out into the cold only to yelp when the cold air suddenly clawed at his bare skin. “FUCK!” “Agreed,” said Castiel, teeth already chattering, but added with a smile, “but this is much better than our first trip.” Dean did a doubletake, then laughed out loud. “Yeah. Much better!” Trudging through the snow and against the wind went much faster this time around and they quickly found themselves safely ensconced inside the dormitory lobby. Castiel snuck out from under the coat and and, before Dean could protest, settled the garment onto Dean’s frame. “I told you, Dean," said Castiel as he adjusted the lapels for the shivering man, "keep it until you can get your own clothes on.” Cheeks burning, Dean mumbled into the collar. “Thanks man.” “You’re welcome, Dean,” said Castiel as they both jammed themselves into the now functional elevator, which was packed with their fellow students who also refused to take the stairs. Somehow, they managed to squish their way in so they that were still standing next to one another. Well, they were standing upright but they were smushed together shoulder to shoulder. “I’m on the 6th floor...” Dean gasped, having just been elbowed in the gut. “I’m on the 12th— OW!!” exclaimed Castiel, his toe having just been stomped on. “12th?! Wait! How am I going to return your coat?!” “I’m room seven!” Castiel yelled over the cacophony of the slowly emptying elevator. “Floor 12, Room 7?!” Dean shouted for confirmation. “Oh, look! It’s your floor!” Castiel pushed Dean out of the elevator, laughing. “It’s Room 7, Floor 12? Right?!” Dean yelped, his tone slightly panicked. He quickly stepped aside to wait anxiously as the occupants of this floor exited the elevator. Once clear, he desperately returned to the entrance way before the doors could close. “Room 7 on the 12th floor?” he asked again, a little out of breath. Castiel couldn’t help the smile on his lips. “Yes, Dean.” he finally answered, before chuckling fondly. “See you when you’re dressed.” “It was nice meeting you, Cas,” said Dean, a little flustered from that little jab. “It was nice meeting you too,” Castiel replied shyly. “See you soon?” “Definitely.” Castiel waved goodbye to Dean. He waved back. The remaining students started to groan, one of them shouting, “12th floor, room 7! Can we get a move on now so I can get some sleep before my exam this aft?!” Embarrassed, they stepped back to let the doors close. They grinned at one another until they couldn’t see each other anymore. Actually, they continued to grin long after that. THE END

#destiel #deancas #dean x castiel #ace!cas #asexual castiel #spn #supernatural #ficlet #au

The Wingman Exemption

Title: The Wingman Exemption Authors: Mistina60 of the Cranky ol’ Fangirls Beta: none Series: Supernatural Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel Rating: 14a for mature language Spoilers: You just need to know who Castiel and Gabriel are and you’re good. Length: 824 words Summary: Gabriel is a firm believer of ‘Grace before Blood’. Yup. It’s true. Deep down he’s a family guy… Well, only if the family member in question isn’t a big bag of dicks. (Revised 2016/03/14) —- Gabriel is a ‘big bag of dicks’ and proud of it. He likes hunting the wicked, finding their deepest darkest secrets and rubbing them in their faces. The darker the sins, the more salt he poured into their festering wounds. The worst of the sinners he smites off the face of the earth—after he’s had his fun, of course.

To Gabriel’s acquaintances he is a ‘medium bag of dicks’, though they certainly didn’t know that. Having never experienced Gabriel in a 'big bag of smitey dicks' mood, his friends would bitch and bitch, never realizing that they were, in fact, getting Trickster Diet. He loves to dig up their secrets and rub them in their faces, as per usual, but instead of trying to drive them to insanity and/or death, he aims for plain and simple humiliation. He makes sly remarks about Sam Winchester's hair and his habit of 'sharing his feelings', for instance. The moose was insecure about his masculinity, courtesy of Dean's incessant teasing, and poking at it never got old. Speaking of Dean, that boy had so many buttons to push: his car, his overprotective big brother complex, the amazing layers upon layers of repressed feelings all of which are all fair game— Except one. Gabriel has made a single exception, though it wasn't out of respect for Dean—pfft, as if!—but for his brother, Castiel. Don't get Gabe wrong, riling up Cas was just as fun as pissing off Dean. But this… Castiel was truly good. The epitome of goodness. Gabriel makes fun but he couldn't deny the purity and innocence of his brother's grace. Hell, even after being battered and tainted as he struggled to do what was right and just, his brother remained well and truly good, though very much broken. Though this makes Gabriel incredibly jealous and resentful—duh!—this also makes it impossible for him to use his baby brother's own love as ammunition against him. It seemed sacrilegious somehow—which is saying a lot considering he hasn't used that word outside of a joke in a millennium—to mar an emotion so great and pure that it was nearly blinding. Especially since this miraculous love belongs to a brother who had endured so much for so very little, which Gabriel thought was incredibly stupid yet somehow admirable. For Castiel, he would leave this one thing unbroken. Well, at least not by his hands. It's a shame that such a beautiful and fierce devotion was being wasted on the likes of Dean ‘the shrimp’ Winchester. Alas, Gabe couldn't do much about that. The growing power within Castiel's grace only existed because of the 'righteous man' and continues to exist for the ‘righteous man’. Seems that being a ‘big bag of dicks’ is hereditary. I’m looking at you, Dad! Regardless, Gabriel never teases Dean about his crushing on Cas, nor subtly (like a two by four) bringing up how attractive Castiel's vessel is when in earshot, nor make kissing noises whenever Dean praised Castiel... Gabriel really, really wanted to, but Dean would get defensive and deny everything which, in turn, would hurt Castiel and Gabe is having none of that. Boy did Gabriel want to find that treacherous sliver of empathy hiding in his grace and smite it into oblivion! He listens to Castiel wax poetic about Dean, ignores the stupidly long stares Castiel frequently directed at Dean, offers comfort whenever Castiel fretted over Dean's wellbeing, did his best to save Castiel's sorry ass whenever he stupidly risked his life for Dean... Gabriel did all this without teasing his brother. Who says I have no willpower? "Gabriel?" asked Castiel after a particularly long and disgustingly fond bout of staring at Dean’s profile. Gabriel held out his index finger and quickly tapped it against the tip of his brother’s nose—BOOP!—and just as quickly pulled it back. "Wassup, little bro?" "You know, don't you?" Castiel asked softly, eyes averted. Gabriel knew exactly what Cas was talking about because, after all, he hadn't exactly been subtle. Nope, not at all. So he answered bluntly, "Yup." "When did you—" "Since day one, kiddo." Gabriel answered before his baby brother could finish. "Then why haven't you—" This was getting a little too ‘chick flick’—why am I quoting Dean? Ick.—for Gabriel so he cut straight to the heart of the matter. "I'm a dick but I'm not heartless." "Oh..." said Castiel, contrite. "Don’t worry about it! Not like I’m going around wearing my heart on my sleeve, right?” Gabriel slung an arm around Castiel and pulled him into a side hug, a small relieved smile tugging at the corner of his baby brother's lips. “As for your pining, I'm cool with it, though now I know you have terrible taste! Terrible! Did I mention terrible?" "Thank you..." said Castiel, quiet but sincere. "Don't sweat it, Cas." Gabriel waved off the gratitude. "But the second he hurts you I'm going 'pagan trickster' on his ass." THE END

#destiel #deancas #dean x castiel #spn #supernatural #ficlet

phoenixyfriend

Reblog if you write fanfic and would be totally down with your followers coming into you askbox and talking to you about your fic

#reblog #phoenixyfriend

'is it any good?' IS IT ANY GOOD YOU ASK. SHATTERED MY HEART IS WHAT IT IS. I need more.

(*)Thank you! <3

lux-mea--lex-deactivated2015110

L and Light being drift compatible

cracklets

Title: Drift Compatible Killer Authors: Mistina60 of the Cranky ol’ Fangirls Beta: none Series: Death Note (Pacific Rim AU) Pairing(s): n/a Rating: Um… G? Spoilers: Spoilers for “Death Note”, but no spoilers for “Pacific Rim”. WARNING: Implied canon major character death. Length: 602 words Summary: L hunts the feared Kira in a world full of literal monsters. (Revised 2016/02/26) —-

Not long after the Kaiju appeared, wreaking havoc around the world, so did another destructive force: Kira.

Unlike the Kaiju, who were not of this earth, Kira was human. This madman used the Kaiju as a symbol to gather followers and to mete out his perverse justice. He racked up a body count that rivaled that of the very monsters he used to manipulate the minds of his fellow man.

L was the most highly sought investigator in the world at the time. With his high IQ and proportionally high solve rate, he was tasked to find the terrorist cult leader and to bring him/her to justice. L accepted readily and threw himself into the investigation. The case was endlessly frustrating. The more clues he uncovered, the more questions arose. He became engrossed to the point where nothing short of the end of the world could pull L away from the case.

He was drafted as a Jaeger pilot before he could solve the case.

He was assigned to Light Yagami, the son of the highly decorated Marshal Yagami. Light had been groomed all his life to become a great military officer. As of the first wave of Kaijus his education had shifted to specialize in piloting Jaegers. He was a favored candidate of the Jaeger program, what with all of his training and his high IQ, but they had difficulty finding him a co-pilot. The Jaeger program’s recruitment team eventually came across L’s file and concluded that he had a high probability of drift compatibility and should be tested.

L and Light passed the preliminary tests with flying colors.

96.981% drift compatibility.

Once it was established that they were compatible, they were rushed into the program and personal space became a distant memory. They trained together, ate together, slept together… The marshal was so strict about their regimen that there were times that they felt chained to one another.

L didn’t mind much.

He could converse with Light, which was a rare feat for L. Light was capable of challenging L’s intellect, which was a rare treat for him. Light somehow made the mundane mind almost understandable, explaining the foreign thought processes in terms L could nearly comprehend. It was the first time L felt some genuine understanding of the civilians he served.

He quickly came to trust his co-pilot.

He came to see him as a friend.

In the rare moments he had to himself, L would continue the investigation he had been forced to drop. It was difficult considering how little time he had and how his access to related resources had drastically diminished. He was soon inclined to invite Light to help him, if he’d like.

He agreed.

Since including Light in his cold case L became increasingly uneasy. The frustrating clues were finally starting to come together, but as they did they started to reveal connections to Light. Nothing concrete, but enough for L’s trust to wane. There was never any conclusive proof, but the more they investigated together, the more L feared the worst.

The first time they drift, L immediately chases the rabbit. For a split second he felt disbelief, because their drift compatibility was in the high 90s it was extremely improbable for either of them to chase the rabbit. The next split second he realized the rabbit he’s chasing isn’t born of his memories, but of his co-pilot’s memories. Light’s mind is filled with bloody secrets, more than enough to lure L in. Those secrets contained all of the answers L sought, confirmed all of his suspicions.

AngerSHAMEregretFaILurEdespairBETRAYALguiltGUILTGuIlTguilt…

And L was lost.

THE END

#death note #dn #light yagami #l #ships: everything else #fandom: everything else #ficlet #luxmealex #lux mea lx #cinensis #cinensis reblogged this twice #so mistina ficced #is it any good?#i don't know #pacific rim

Pompous Pep in Atlantis

A Danny Phantom / Atlantis: the Lost Empire Crossover Role Play —- (Shipper) *Kida chasing Danny around trying to blast him* (Shipper) Everyone else: Da fuck? (Shipper) Danny: Why does everyone try and kill me?! (Shipper) Vlad: You do have that effect on people when they first meet you, don't you? (Mistina) *Danny is not amused* (Shipper) Danny: Shut up and get Princess Crazy off my ghost ass!

(Mistina) Milo: Oh my god. They do exist... *Atlantis wasn’t the only myth he believed* (Shipper) Danny: Yes we do. Now you do something about your crazy girlfriend! *dodges another blast from flying fish* (Mistina) *Mole, Vinni and Audrey are just laughing their asses off* (Mistina) *Milo is stumped* (Mistina) Audrey: Dumbasses. (Shipper) *Vlad is torn between helping and laughing until Danny gets hit* (Mistina) *Vlad goes ghost but Audrey interrupts before he comes to the rescue* (Mistina) Audrey: Yo, Kida! (Mistina) Kida: What? (Mistina) Audrey: The Ghosties are with us! (Mistina) Kida: Oh, ok. *backs off without any argument* (Shipper) Danny: *peeks out behind blasted wall* No more shooting? *shifts back to human form* (Mistina) Audrey: Nah, you’re in the clear. (Mistina) Mole: ...Killjoy. (Mistina) Audrey: *punches mole* (Shipper) Danny: *muttering* You get chased by a crazed princess on a fish and see how much you like it! (Shipper) Danny: *turns to vlad* and YOU were no help at all you useless Fruit Loop— (Shipper) ((Audrey is such a great character, lover her and Dr. Sweet.)) (Mistina) ((Hehe)) (Mistina) ((Yes, she’s awesome. I need to work her into more fics.)) (Mistina) Dr. Sweet: Omg. I’ve spent how long learning medicine… Not I have to learn all of it again but for ghosts?! *gets all excited* (Misitna) Dr. Sweet: *hands Danny huge ass jar* Here, fill this up! (Shipper) Danny: With what?! *eyes get huge* (Shipper) Vlad: *gives Dr. Sweet a warning look* Careful there! There are a few things that are off limits to all but me. (Shipper) ((That jar thing never gets old, nor the reaction.)) (Mistina) ((Agreed.)) (Mistina) Atlantis Crew: ...but to you? O.O (Mistina) Mole: *heavy french accent* Are you ‘is daddee? (Mistina) ((I am horrible.)) (Shipper) ((I started it.)) (Shipper) Danny: *turns very bright red* Don’t you dare respond to that! (Mistina) ((So many comebacks he could make.)) (Mistina) ((But he can’t make them or he’ll get the couch. >.<)) (Shipper) ((Hehe.)) (Shipper) Vlad: *smirks knowingly* (Shipper) Danny: *phases halfway through the floor in mortification* (Misitna) *Which Disney character would pick up on—* (Mistina) Kida: Are you his mate? (Mistina) Dr. Sweets: But he’s a kid— Unless he ages like the Atlantians… (Shipper) Danny: *whines* Why me? (Mistina) Milo: Are you 200 years old? (Shipper) Danny: *tiny squeaky voice* I’m 15. (Shipper) ((Because why not, gunna say it’s been at least a year.)) (Shipper) Vlad: I will have you know I’m waiting as long as a should and am waiting until he is considered legal. (Mistina) Danny: Can you kill me now, crazy fish lady? Please?! (Mistina) ((What year was Atlantis set in? What was the legal fucking age at the time? Hmm)) (Shipper) ((I think it was either 40s or 20s.)) (Shipper) ((Checking.)) (Shipper) ((I was off. 1914.)) (Mistina) Everyone: Oh, that’s fine… *they mutter in agreement* (Mistina) Danny: O_O (Mistina) Vlad: O.O (Mistina) Vlad: … (Mistina) Vlad: SWEET! (Mistina) Dr. Sweet: Yes? (Shipper) Vlad: What? (Mistina) Dr. Sweet: You said my name. (Shipper) Danny: Wait. What? You guys are saying there’s nothing wrong with me being with a 40 year old. Wow I think this I like this place. No more sneaking around... (Shipper) Danny: *thinks* I can finally get laid. (Shipper) Vlad: My apologies. Sweet is also a term used to express happ… Daniel, why are you looking at me like that? (Mistina) Audrey: Why would you be sneaking around? Your parents have different religions or something— Oh! You’re both guys! Right. (Mistina) Mole: How adorable! (MIstina) Vinni: ..I’m not making you guys corsages. (Shipper) Danny: *still looking at Vlad* Yes, that would be nice... *Not paying much attention* (Shipper) ((OMG this just keeps getting funnier and funnier.)) (Mistina) ((You’re welcome.)) (Mistina) Vinni: I said no!! (Shipper) Vlad: I think Daniel’s not here right now. *waves hand in front of the boy’s face* (Mistina) Audrey: *knowing look* I think that’s our cue to go, guys. These boys have some catching up to do. (Mistina) Milo: C-Catching up? (Mistina) Audrey: No with you, dummy. *Moves to hit Milo* Ah! Two for flinching! *punches Milo twice* (Shipper) Audrey: I’ll explain when you are older. ;) (Shipper) *and then some very NSFW stuff happened* (Shipper) *Kida drags Mole away every time he tries to peek.* —- THE END —- Author’s Note: This is spur of the moment crack that Shipper and I spewed out over the line app. Not to be taking seriously. Quickly proofread and revised.

#pompous pep #danny phantom #vlad masters #atlantis the lost empire #atlantis: the lost empire #disney #crossover #ships: everything else #fandom: everything else #kidakagash #milo thatch #nsfw

The Life and Times of Sam Winchester's Laptop

Title: The Life and Times of Sam Winchester’s Laptop Author: Mistina60 Beta: books-movies-anime-shows-life, stormlyht

Series: Supernatural Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel Rating: R (lots of mentions of mature content) Spoilers: If you know Cas then you’re good. :D Length: 5,681 words

Summary: Sam Winchester’s laptop is caught in the whirlwind of two idiots dancing around their love.

Dedication: As always, To my muse, sailorshipper. To books-movies-anime-shows-life and stormlyht for the wonderful beta. To bookkbaby who inspired me to write a different ending for this story, one that I think is more creative and better suited for our boys. Thanks, guys!

—-

"Alright, Dean. I just got to the motel," said Sam as he unlocked the door to room 17 of the Lazy B motel. "I’ll call if I find anything. Later!"

With a tired sigh he hung up and entered the room. He closed the door behind him and locked it with the deadbolt, the latter being a conditioned response. After throwing his cell onto the nearest bed, dropping his rucksack next to the door and stripping off his jacket, Sam then went about setting up his laptop. While it booted up, he stretched in the stiff motel chair next to it.

Once he entered his password—dEangetthef*ckoffmylaptopJERK—he did what he always did when he first logged onto his computer: checked the browser history.

#destiel #dean x castiel #deancas #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #cas #sam winchester #impala #gay porn #yaoi #hentai

The Dr. Allure to Your Dr. Sexy

Title: The Dr. Allure to Your Dr. Sexy Author: Mistina60 Beta: none Series: Supernatural Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel Rating: G Spoilers: A bit of Season 6. Otherwise, if you know Cas then you're good. :D Length: 3,275 words Summary: Dean decides that he and Castiel would celebrate their first Halloweens together. Nothing goes quite as planned but what else is new? (Revised 2016/04/12) Dedication: Dedicated to cinensis, a friend who unwittingly started this whole thing, bookkbaby, a friend who needed some Castiel fluff, and sailorshipper, my partner in crime who—without which—I wouldn't be writing at all. —-

"Jesus Christ!" Dean exclaimed, jerking back violently in surprise. He really should be used to this by now, the whole ‘Castiel popping in and out via Angel Airlines’ thing. After four years he really shouldn't be caught off guard. All the same, Dean was fifteen minutes into a rerun of "Doctor Sexy" and, as everyone knew though he will deny it vehemently to his death and then some, he gets completely absorbed in the show. Completely. Dr. Sexy was his kryptonite.

Angry and humiliated at being caught so totally enthralled by a chick show—yet again—Dean turned slightly to shoot the angel a glare over the back of the couch. "Dean..." Cas said reproachfully at the human's choice in expletive. "Dammit, Cas..." The hunter grumbled as he turned back to the television. "I'll stop saying that when you start knocking!" Taking a swig of his beer, he scooched over to make room for Castiel under the pretense of getting comfortable again. Castiel looked back towards the door, "I forgot again." "Yes, you did.” Dean muttered. “Scared the crap out of me. No fair sneaking up on me with angel teleporting powers..." he trailed off grumpily into his beer bottle as he took another swig. Castiel made his way around the couch and took the newly vacated seat next to the hunter. His posture was stiff and awkward as he stared intensely at the side of the hunter's head. "I'm sorry, Dean." The hunter couldn't maintain a facade of anger in the face of such a sincere angel—only Cas, really—so he didn't bother. Dean chuckled fondly. "I know you are Cas..." Taking a small dose of liquid courage he continued, "Didn’t mean to snap at you, buddy." Castiel smiled, relieved that Dean wasn't angry and pleased by his apology. Though vague to the point of not resembling an apology at all, that was, in fact, an apology. Relatively speaking, it was an incredibly sincere apology coming from Dean 'No Chick Flick Moments' Winchester. "I forgive you, Dean." "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Dean full on laughed, amused for reasons unknown to the angel. "I know, Cas. I know. I'll be surprised when you don't." He teased. Castiel was about to say 'I don't understand...' but his train of thought was derailed when the TV suddenly blared. "OoooOoOOoohh!" Wailed the man on the screen, from under a sheet. Castiel never understood how that ridiculous onomatopoeia had become associated, nearly synonymous, with ghosts in the first place. But he was fairly certain if spirits were sentient they would be offended. “How do you Boo, boys and girls? Still looking for a Halloween costume?” the bedspread ghost wailed again. “Come on down to ‘Shindig Town’” “Where we’re exorcising prices!” Another man, dressed in black, leapt onto the scene holding a book titled ‘Nancy Drew and the Ghost of Blackwood Hall’ and a cross made of twigs. The so called ‘specter’ wailed then said, "What ghost up must come down!” Another wail and the he finished, “And prices will go down until we find a happy medium!” A gaudy carny psychic, sequined from head to toe in hot pink and yellow, walked on screen. He looked confused while the other two wore huge forced grins. The jingle started to play when Dean suddenly turned the TV off. Now Castiel was definitely certain that they would be offended. “Was that man in costume too? The one in black.” he asked, starting with the part he understood least of the advertisement he had just witnessed. “I think he was supposed to be a priest…” Dean guessed. "Oh." "Yeah... That was pretty bad. Super low budget. Must be a local place.” “It’s... interesting how the festival of Samhain has slowly evolved into this ‘Halloween’ you celebrate.” Castiel mused. “How much do you know about ‘my’ Halloween?” Dean asked with genuine interest, though it might not have sounded like it to anyone else considering how he worded it. "Have you celebrated?" Castiel understood no offense was meant, as per usual. “I don't know much. I haven't been to earth until after I resurrected you and I've been busy since then.” Though Dean knew he wasn't at fault, and that Cas wouldn't blame him even if he was, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by guilt at the angel's words. Ever since Castiel raised him from perdition nothing seemed to go right for the poor guy: He lost his faith, rebelled against his family, was banished from his home, and lost his grace—his wings—many times... He tries and tries to do the right thing yet so much innocent blood still wound up on the angel's hands, weighing down his grace. It was hard not to feel guilty when all of this started with Dean. Castiel, who could read him as easily as a neon sign, smiled softly. "It's okay, Dean. I have time to learn now." "Yeah... Yeah!" Dean suddenly perked up, now awash with ideas. "We can get tons of candy for you to try! Though we'd have to buy it because we can't trick or treat 'cause people would get the wrong idea. Maybe we could crash a party—" "Wrong idea?" "Uhh... You don't want to know." Before the angel could pry further Dean prattled on. "We could dress up too! Save the whales? Or a western flick? Maybe horror movie baddies— Oh man! We need to watch the holiday movie basics! Let's see... Halloween, d'uh! Friday the Thirteenth, Nightmare on Elm street, the original Dracula—" "Dean?" "Yeah, Cas?" "I don't understand most of what you're saying..." "Oops. Sorry, man." Dean chuckled sheepishly. "I guess I've never really celebrated Halloween myself what with... You know..." "That I understand." The angel knew well how Dean was raised: childhood not included. Dean took a deep gulp a beer hoping to—but not expecting to—distract the angel from his flushed cheeks. He took a moment to compose himself then became pensive. Castiel waited patiently for the hunter to speak up again. "I think you should pick your own costume." Dean eventually said. Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "What?" Dean rolled his eyes fondly. "You heard me, Cas." "But... I don't... I have no idea where to begin, Dean. I need your help—" "Naw, Cas. Candy I will provide so you can figure out what you like, same with TV and movies. But the costume thing... It's a personal choice, man! You have to dress up as someone or something you like! Someone or something that inspires you, someone who makes you smile. Not me, Cas, you!" "Inspires me..?" Repeated Castiel in a thoughtful manner and without any hesitation the first thing that came to mind was... Dean. "Not God." Castiel flinched at Dean's sudden stipulation. Not because he was caught thinking of God but because he wasn't thinking of Him. "Ya hear me, Cas?" "Yes, Dean. I should choose a costume of someone who inspires me but not God." Said Castiel, a little distracted trying to puzzle out why God wasn't his first choice. Perhaps the angel didn't think of God first because He never made him smile... "Perfect! That's your homework." Satisfied, Dean picked up the remote from his lap and turned the television back on. "You pick yourself a costume and I'll handle the rest!" He leaned back into the couch, settling down to continue watching his program. As Dean hadn't explicitly dismissed him nor seemed to object to his continued presence, Castiel decided to stay a while longer. Imitating the hunter, he leaned back as well. Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as the angel sank back into the cushions. Castiel froze, eyes widening like he just had an epiphany, and then squirmed around purposefully before settling. "I now see why you sit like this." Said Castiel as he rested an experimental forearm on the armrest. "This posture is much more pleasant." Dean nearly choked on his beer at Castiel's words. After forcing down that last gulp of beer he burst out laughing so hard he couldn't speak. "Don't let it go to your head." "Stop it!" Dean rasped between peals of laughter. "You're killing me, Cas!" The angel smiled. Then frowned when the answer to what he was contemplating earlier dawned on him. "Oh..." "Shh!" Shushed Dean, trying to catch his breath. "The... The next episode is starting!" Dean needn't have bothered hushing the angel as he was far too distracted with his recent revelation. After the initial shock wore off, Castiel turned to stare at the hunter's profile like he usually did, only much more self-aware. Dean didn't notice any of this as he was already deeply engrossed in the program. "This will be the surgeon performing the appendectomy on your patient tomorrow." Said the chief of medicine. "Dr. Sexy, meet Dr. Allure." "Oh man! I love this episode!" Dean exclaimed suddenly. "Love?" Castiel blinked rapidly in confusion as he refocused on his surroundings. "Yeah, Cas! This is the one where they introduce Dr. Allure." "Nice to meet you, Doctor. I've heard good things." The surgeon held out his hand, his face completely devoid of emotion. He was a handsome man with dark hair, squinty blue eyes and a five o’clock shadow. Dr. Sexy eyed his new coworker warily, "Nice to meet you too..." He took the proffered hand and they both shook firmly. "If there's anything you'd like to ask or discuss with me prior to the surgery tomorrow, you can page me anytime." Said Dr. Allure, scribbling down the number onto a loose leaf on his clipboard, tearing it out and handing it to his new colleague. "I will be filling out paperwork until then, as it will be my first procedure at this hospital." The surgeon was nearly monotone; no one could tell if he was being matter of fact or hostile. "Thank you, Doctor." Said Dr. Sexy, accepting the number. "Good day, Doctor." Dr. Allure nodded to him, then to their superior. "Chief." As he walked off, the nurses swooned in his wake. "Damn..." Breathed Dr. Sexy in what could be interpreted as a besotted manner. "I've only heard of surgeons who are adrenaline seeking jocks but this guy..." He ran a nervous hand through his long, dark, shampoo advert worthy hair. "Take it from me, son..." The chief patted him on the shoulder. "...never play poker with the guy." Dean was completely enthralled, almost like the nurses on screen, which confused Castiel. "I thought Dr. Sexy was your favorite character?" "Well..." Dean took a moment to mull over his answer. "Dr. Sexy is a guy I want to be like. My role model, I guess. I can relate to him." Castiel nodded. He could see the similarities between Dean and the fictional doctor. A good deal of their shared traits are the ones Dean valued most. Also, the doctor's life, though full of drama and being fictional, was relatively calm and 'normal' to Dean's. Though disillusioned after living with Lisa and Ben for that brief stint, Castiel knew that the 'apple pie life' was still very much appealing to Dean. "But that Dr. Allure guy... I don't really get him but he's a good guy and very awesome— Just watch!" "No..." Dr. Sexy gazed upon the scene before him in horror. The piercing wail of the patient flat lining rang in his ears while on the other side of the glass Dr. Allure was fighting tooth and nail to save his patient. "How could I have missed..." "He's stable, doctor." a nurse told Dr. Allure. Dr. Sexy let out a huge sigh of relief. "The fruit of all our hard work." Said Dr. Allure, his flat voice somehow conveying his sincere gratitude toward his colleagues. "Thank you, Beth, Alan, Dani... Let's close him up." After a chorus of 'yes, doctor's the surgical team regrouped to finish the procedure. Dr. Sexy watched them do this, his expression one of inner turmoil. He stormed out the viewing room just as they were wheeling the patient out of the O.R. The scene cuts to Dr. Sexy stewing in his office. He is startled out of his brooding by a knock at his door. Instead of a greeting and an introduction he heard a muffled "It's not your fault." through the door. The camera switches to the other side of the door momentarily to reveal Dr. Allure in his scrubs and cap, pulling off his mask with freshly washed hands. It was as if he had forgotten he was still wearing the thing. "I'm busy." The camera back on Dr. Sexy as he lied. He obviously did not desire any company at the moment. "Sorry to disturb you." The door was on the screen now, through which came Dr. Allure's slightly less muffled words. "I know words don't sway guilt, but for what it's worth, I don't blame you." The camera zooms out as Dr. Allure's footsteps fade away and to show Dr. Sexy lounging in his chair, a smirk forming on the corner of his mouth. "See! He's a weird dude, but still cool!" "I see..." Said Castiel softly. "Oh sweet! The season 4 Halloween episode is next! It's my favorite because by then they are total bros and Dr. Allure..." Castiel wasn't paying much attention anymore. He had chosen his costume. ~*~ "Trick or Treat." Said Castiel after knocking on the motel room door three times. He did this on the proper side of the door no less. The angel was getting the hang of this 'making your presence known' business. "Wow, Cas!" Dean exclaimed, swinging open the door wearing a Batman costume. "I can't believe you knocked and got the greeting right—" he stopped short at the sight of Castiel in his usual outfit with the meager additions of latex gloves and a medical mask. "Who are you dressed as Dean?" Asked Castiel, as clueless about Dean's costume as the hunter was of the angel's. "We'll marathon that guy's show another day—" Dean brushed off Castiel's inquiry quickly so he could get to his own question. But he tripped over the words, feeling bad for not being able to figure it out himself. The angel didn't really look dressed up but, knowing Cas, he had some kind of logic behind the minimalist costume. Dean didn't want to make Cas feel bad on his first try but couldn't find the tactful words he wanted. "Wow, Cas. Who are you supposed... To be..." Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "Is my costume inaccurate?" Yup. Dean felt like a dick. The angel looked himself over to find where he went wrong, unintentionally making Dean feel worse. "I was trying to look like that surgeon you think would suit Dr. Sexy…" Now Dean was stunned. "Cas... Umm..." The hunter really wished he had tact right now. "You were supposed to dress up like someone you admire, not me—" "I know." Castiel's response only confused Dean more, he could tell, so he elaborated. "I admire you." Well, he thought he was elaborating. "What?! Uh… Thanks but what does that have to do with... I don't under—" Dean was confused, yet strangely pleased which sparked panic. "Dammit! Get in here!" He grabbed Castiel by the lapels and yanked him into the motel room, closing the door behind him. After the angel stumbled in, Dean stormed across the room to put some distance between them. "Explain!" "You said to dress up as someone I admire. There are many I admire for having certain qualities I value but I gathered that you meant a role model: Someone, or something, that motivates me and drives me to action. In that sense, there was only you." "Uh..." Dean's face was burning from ear to ear. He thinks that he has never been so red in his life, and he's been strung up by his feet more times than he'd care to admit. "Okay... But why Dr. Allure?" He winced, the sexual connotations of that name having not really hit home until Dean said them aloud just now. "There's a saying... 'Imitation is the highest form of flattery'. I think that's what this holiday is about nowadays. But I know you wouldn't appreciate my flattering you in such a way." Dean tried to picture Castiel dressed like him and, yeah, that would have been weird. Then the ridiculous image of the angel costumed as 'Dean Winchester' morphed into a 'strangely not so ridiculous' image of the angel borrowing the hunter's clothes. Now Dean felt weird in a different way that only fueled his growing panic. "There was no one else who fit the criteria so I thought maybe a costume related to you in some way would be appropriate. I knew you liked the fictional character, Dr. Sexy, but you wished to be him. So I opted to be the fictional character you liked but didn't relate to." He held out his hands indicating the clothes he was wearing. That was probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for Dean. Not that the bar was set high, in fact Dean’s standards were quite low, but even by a ‘normal’ North American’s standards this was so incredibly thoughtful… The hunter struggled with Castiel’s actions: what they meant and what they could mean; what he wanted them to mean but he could never believe them to mean. His yearning warred with his inflexible mindset. He wanted so many things to be true but personal experience had proven that they couldn’t be. No one could possibly care about another so selflessly. It’s a dog eat dog world. It’s everyone for themselves— “Dean?” “What?!” The hunter snapped, causing the angel to flinch and consequently making him feel worse. “Um…” Castiel held out two items that the hunter could have sworn he wasn’t holding before. “I brought a clip board and a medical coat for you. So we can… So we can celebrate our first Halloweens together.” Dean tensed when Castiel set the bar impossibly higher but then, surprisingly enough, he relaxed a fraction. Castiel isn’t human. Isn’t a monster. Not a demon. Not an angel. Not anything that disappointed Dean in his screwed up past. He was just… Cas. “Thanks Cas.” Dean accepted the costume from Castiel. “That’s a fantastic idea.” Castiel beamed, shattering any last vestige of doubt the hunter had. Just like that, the angel’s stark honesty and selflessness wasn’t quite so overwhelming anymore. He quickly shed the mask and the cape to replace them with the coat and clipboard. “I thought we’d start by you trying some candy and chocolate,” Dean gestured toward the one bed that was littered with a wide assortment of candies and chocolates that Cas hadn’t noticed until now, “then, once you’ve found a couple varieties you like, we could start our horror film fest with Friday the Thirteenth.” He pointed to the TV where a stack of VHS tapes were stacked next to the screen then the second bed where all the pillows were stacked for use during the movie viewing. “Sounds perfect.” said Castiel, smiling brightly. “Well then…” Dean pretended to consult his clip board. “I’m going to prescribe 20ccs of mars bars. If that doesn’t work we’ll try 40mg of M&Ms with 10mg of Baby Ruth.” Castiel tilted his head owlishly. Dean laughed, picking up a mars bar from the bed and handing it to the angel, “Sound good, Dr. Allure?” “Ah…” Castiel opened the packaging and took a big bite. After he chewed carefully and swallowed, he said. “Sounds good, Dr. Sexy.” THE END

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #spn #supernatural #ficlet #halloween #holiday

Conversation With A Q (I Actually Like)

Title: Conversation with a Q (I Actually Like) Author: Mistina60 Beta: none Series: Star Trek the Next Generation and Young Avengers Pairing(s): Billy Kaplan/Teddy Altman a.k.a. Asgardian/Hulkling

Rating: G Spoilers: TNG – If you know Locutus of Borg, you’ll be fine. Length: 3,737 words Summary: Picard never thought he’d ever see the day when he is rescued from Q by another Q. Much less a day where said other Q would also require their help. (Revised 2016/02/18) —-

"Q! " Picard startled at the scolding voice directed at the infuriating trickster, as it wasn't his own. "Leave them be! " He whirled about to find its source, as did the rest of the bridge crew. Standing in front of the closed turbolift doors was a young, seemingly human, boy in a red Starfleet uniform. He was staring down the omnipotent miscreant. Said miscreant, who was casually leaning against the captain's chair, smirked and drawled, "Yes, Q~? " The stranger's face scrunched up in disgust. "It's Billy and you know it." Q laughed. "If you insist... Billy ." "I do," Billy said with a withering glare which, for some reason, only elicited another laugh from the trickster. Before the intruder could snap at Q, which Picard would have loved to see, the Captain cleared his throat to interrupt. After all, the safety of his crew was in question and that takes precedence over his own self-satisfaction.

Before the intruder could snap at Q, which the Picard would have loved to see, the Captain cleared his throat to interrupt. After all, the safety of his crew was in question and that takes precedence over his own self-satisfaction. "Q, is he a friend of yours?" he asked, indicating the newcomer. His tone was teasing but he was extremely wary, quite familiar with the alien’s cruel theatrics. Q rolled his eyes and let out a melodramatic sigh. "He's no friend of mine, Jean-Luc. But don't you worry your pretty head. He's a boring old pacifist, like you. No threat at all~!" "Yes. Unlike a certain member of the Continuum, I can fight my enemies without causing collateral damage." Billy's lip curled up into a smirk, a dangerous glint in his eyes. If he hadn't known any better, Picard could have sworn that Q paled at the threat. Considering that his skin wasn’t real and that he had no blood to rush from his false face, that couldn't have been what Picard saw. At least, it shouldn't have been. But looking around he realized that apparently he didn't know better because, judging by their shocked expressions, his crewmates saw this too. Try as he might to hide it behind a nonchalant facade, at Billy's words the trickster's posture did, in fact, visibly lose all of its confidence and swagger. "Very well, Billy." Conceded Q, only arousing more suspicion. "Let it be known that I do share... Sometimes." Before anything else could be said, Q snapped his fingers and vanished in a flash of white light. Just when Picard thought he couldn't be any more confused by the situation, Billy—the one who had intimidated Q of all people—let out a breath of relief and then smiled. Not a smug or mischievous smile. No. It was a genuine smile of happiness. It was so very... human. Well, that's how it seemed. Picard wasn't letting his guard down based on appearances alone, not when the Q are involved. Especially not with the Q involved. "Thank you for the rescue, Billy," the Captain said warily. "Not that I don't appreciate it but what brings you to the Enterprise?" "Oh!" The boy startled. "I'm sorry, Captain." His reaction and his apology only confused the Starfleet officers further. After all, the Q are omnipotent beings and therefore have no reason to apologize and definitely cannot be startled. Picard was at a loss for words. How could this seemingly human child be the all-powerful being that had scared off Q only moments ago? The boy jogged down the ramp—so very like a human—up to where Picard stood in front of the command chair. He held out his hand to shake—a very human custom—and introduced himself with a shy smile. "I'm Billy Kaplan, sir. Nice to meet you!" Picard smiled, the kid's enthusiasm was infectious. "Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise." He took the offered hand and shook it vigorously. "Though I suspect you already knew that." "Yeah, I did." Billy looked away guiltily, taking his hand back and running it nervously through his dark hair. "I was going to meet you through the proper channels but then I heard Q was pestering you and..." "Proper channels?" repeated Picard, baffled since the omnipotent beings he knew saw no need for decorum. "I'm finding harder and harder to believe that you're related to the Q I know." "I'm not!" Billy snapped defensively but was immediately contrite. "Well, I am. I really don't like it, though..." "Sounds like you have quite the story to tell. Perhaps we should move to my ready room—" "Right! You're right. This is unprofessional..." Billy looked around the bridge, ashamed. "I'm sorry for intruding while you're all working—" "Please don't worry yourself, Billy," said Picard in a reassuring manner. "This is, after all, a very unusual situation." "I'm still sorry." "Come, come, my boy." The Captain ushered Billy into his ready room, the bridge erupting into frantic whispers of gossip as soon as the doors closed behind the pair. Picard immediately went to sit at his desk, but hesitated at his chair when he noticed the boy looking lost at the door. Billy was fidgeting nervously yet he was observing the room eagerly. It was as if he couldn't take in his surroundings fast enough. It was as if... He was in awe. "Please, have a seat." Picard offered a little uneasily, motioning toward the chair in front of him. Billy quickly did so, looking both relieved and unusually pleased. "Thank you, sir!" "No need to be so formal," said Picard cordially, sitting down himself. "Picard is fine." "Thank you, sir— Er... Picard," exclaimed Billy excitedly before bashfully correcting his immediate slip. Picard became pensive at the boy’s contradictory behavior. He simply couldn't read the boy. Q had identified him as a member of the Continuum, had even run from him suggesting that Billy was higher in the hierarchy or simply more powerful than the trickster, yet here this 'child' was… respecting him, maybe even in awe of him: Jean-Luc Picard, a human and therefore a lower being. It was unsettling. "So, what brings you here, Billy?" he finally queried. "Oh, um... Well... I need your help," the boy blurted out, evidently aware of how absurd the request would sound. Picard was speechless for a moment. "Curiouser and curiouser..." he eventually mumbled. "What?" "Forgive me but I'm confused. Are you not a member of the Continuum? How could you possibly need our help?" elaborated Picard, confirming that—yes—the question did sound absurd to the human Captain. "It's a long story..." "I have nowhere to be at the moment," said Picard, leaning back in his chair to emphasize his point. "Oh, well... Um... Where to start? Um..." babbled Billy as he struggled for words. He finally settled with the topic sentence, "My father is Terran." "What? How—" Picard wasn’t an expert in the field of Biology, far from it, but even he knew that a hybrid between a mortal organic being and an immortal being made of pure energy was... Unfeasible, to put it lightly. "My mother gave up the Continuum for him. She's mortal now. You've probably heard of them. Dr. Vision and his wife Wanda?" "She was a Q?!" "Yes. And Tommy, he’s my brother, he has superhuman speed but is otherwise mortal. I, however..." "Inherited more Q than human?" Picard couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but he was following the story easily enough. Billy made a face. "Yeah... So much more that it eclipsed my Terran half. I don't know how it works, or if anyone knows since it's unprecedented, but technically I'm a full-fledged member of the Continuum." Picard didn't mean to stare but he couldn't help himself, he was so astounded, and Billy squirmed under the scrutiny. "But the 'Q' genes didn't fully kick in until a few years ago, when I was fourteen..." "Fourteen?! But that means you're only..." Picard didn't know why this hadn't occurred to him sooner. He knew that Dr. Vision and his Wife were middle aged and only had two teenage boys. Amused, Billy quirked a brow. "...a child? Yeah, I'm only 17. A baby—a fetus—in the eyes of the Continuum." "Then why did Q run from you?" "That's… That’s a story for another time, Captain. This one is long enough as it is..." Billy paused, having apparently lost his train of thought. "Where was I?" "Your powers manifested at the age of fourteen..." prompted Picard. Though he had yet to determine the veracity of the boy's tale, he couldn't help but find the story to be endlessly fascinating. "Right! So... Having been raised a Terran, I had no idea how to control my powers. I was having accidents more and more... My family was scared and I… I was terrified." Picard’s heart went out to the boy. "I can't even imagine—" "I think you can," Billy interrupted, without hesitation. That completely shattered any trust Billy had garnered from the Captain. "What?" "I've always admired you, Captain Picard,” the boy explained excitedly. “Because of you I wanted to join Starfleet when I grew up! That is, until my heritage put an end to that." When he finished, his mood wilted. "I'm flattered, but how do you think I can relate?" asked Picard, the flattery not making him any less suspicious. "Well..." Billy fidgeted, like he was worried that the Captain would not take what he said well. That in itself made Picard frown which only made the boy more nervous and... After taking a deep breath, Billy broke the nasty cycle by blurting out, "The incident with the Borg." A strained silence followed. "I'm not saying it's the same!” The boy panicked. “Also I don't think it was cool or anything! I mean, I wish it never happened to you. It must have been horrible. The fear that comes with what your hand could do, or did, against your will..." "I'm not offended, Billy,” said Picard softly but suddenly. “Merely... caught off guard. But you're right. I suppose I can relate.” Billy let out a huge sigh of relief. The captain couldn’t help but smile at how the boy seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve: afraid to offend his role model but too honest to lie. This demonstrated nothing but good qualities. That is, if this wasn’t an act. “Is that why you were going to approach me, specifically, through the 'proper channels'?" "Well, yeah…” Embarrassed, Billy’s cheeks flushed. “...and because, all in all, I'm a huge fan, sir." Picard didn’t know what to say, so all he could come up with was a lame "Thank you." “You’re welcome…” The awkward silence that followed only lasted a moment before Picard prompted, "So... What happened next?" "Wha— Oh yeah, right!” exclaimed Billy, before continuing his story. “One particularly bad night my mom told me everything. It took some convincing—I'm sure you can believe that—but once I’d accepted what she was telling me, she asked if I'd like her to contact the Continuum for help or If I'd like her to try to ask for her powers back so she can teach me. Neither option sat well with me, especially after everything she just told me… I didn't want to be more of a burden than I already was! But without help I would become an even greater burden so... I agreed she should reach out to them but not to rejoin them. I didn’t want to hurt anyone more than I already have..." “You never asked to be a Q, boy…” Picard tried to reassure the boy. “None of this is your fault.” "I know… But you understand that I can’t help but feel guilty.” Billy’s brown eyes went hard with an aged wisdom no one wants to see in a youth. Picard nodded solemnly because he did understand. Not that he could deny that now as they had just established that he could relate. Billy sighed, slumping slightly as if he was bone tired from having lived an eternity though he had only lived seventeen years. “As you can tell, they responded and, as you can guess, they were jerks about it. It took some negotiating but my mom finally struck a deal that didn't royally screw us... But the second the deal was made they took me away! I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone! Not my mom, not my dad, not my brother, not... Not anyone." "I'm sorry, Billy..." Picard said sincerely, wishing he could do more but couldn’t fathom how he could. "Thanks." The boy smiled gratefully. "I found my family as soon as my 'training' was complete—just before coming here, in fact— but..." His expression turned into the most heartbreaking look of sadness, "...I can't find my friend." "How is that possible when you have the full power of the Continuum?!" Picard exclaimed. "I mean... Q listened to you and he wouldn't do that unless you were more powerful than him." "You're right, I'm more powerful than him, which is what worries me..." said Billy, frustrated as he tried again to figure out the answer. "There aren't many ways to circumvent the Continuum's reach, and my reach is far by the Continuum's standards, yet I can't find him! My best guess is another member of the Continuum, someone high up in the hierarchy, is working on a project that's classified but... What could the Continuum be interested in that involves him, a Terran?!" "If you can't find him, how could we?" Picard felt like he was starting to sound like a broken 19th century record. "You're a Terran. You're a natural part of his society—his environment—so your presence would go unnoticed. Also, they don't consider Terrans to be much of a threat— No offense!" Billy added hastily. "None taken," said Picard, rolling his eyes. "Q has rubbed that in our faces enough that we know how they view us. But I know you don't see us that way." He truly believed it, despite only having the boy's word to go on. "I really, really don't," said Billy adamantly. "I was hoping you could look him up in your Federation databases? Maybe?" "It's a very reasonable request so I don't see why not," agreed Picard. "Which is further proof that you are not like the other members of the Continuum." "Aw, thanks Captain!" Billy beamed. Picard leaned back in his chair and pressed the comm badge on his chest. "Picard to Data.” "Data, here." "Data, could you search all possible databases for a Terran named..." The Starship Captain gestured to Billy for the name, realizing too late he had never asked. "Teddy— Er... Theodore Altman." "...Theodore Altman?" "Searching all Terran related databases now, sir. It will be completed in 2.45 seconds." "Thank you, Data." "Search complete. There is no Terran by the name of Teddy Altman on record—" The crushed expression on Billy's face was heart wrenching. "—however there is a Starfleet cadet aboard by that name who is half Kree and half Skrull." "Half... What?!" Billy exclaimed, thoroughly shocked. “That’s impossible!” Picard couldn't blame the boy. He knew well that the Kree and the Skrulls have been at war for centuries. If Billy thought the boy was Terran, then to find out that not only he is not a Terran but a Kree/Skrull hybrid… Though after discovering that humans and the Q can procreate, the idea of a half Kree and half Skrull child doesn’t seem quite so farfetched now... "Yes. Half Kree and half Skrull. Strange... Other than his basic personal and medical information, his file is classified by Starfleet." "Classified?!" "Could you please summon the cadet to my ready room, Data?" Picard asked hastily, aware they would learn nothing more from Data. The sooner they see the cadet the sooner they would get answers. "Right away, sir." "I... I don't understand..." "I understand less,” said Picard in an awkward yet sincere attempt at comfort, “but we will soon enough." Lo and behold, the door slid open and closed to admit a tall blonde into the room. "Cadet Altman reporting for—" At the sight of the young Q, his salute faltered and footsteps stumbled. "...Billy?" Hope swelled in Billy's chest, recognizing the cadet's face. "Teddy?" "Captain?" The poor cadet looked like he's just encountered a ghost. "I don't understand... What—" "Teddy, it's me!" In his excitement Billy forgot to actually use his feet and suddenly appeared at an arm's length from the frightened cadet. Teddy nearly jumped out of his skin and took a step back. "It can't be... You... That is, Billy... He... How did you..." Picard cleared his throat, catching cadet Altman's attention. "Though I have yet to confirm his identity, he tells a compelling story that I'm inclined to believe." Teddy looked from the Captain, to Billy's pleading face, then back to the Captain again. His expression said that he desperately wanted to believe this was the Billy he once knew, but couldn't. He was just an outsider but Picard's heart ached at the sight of the pair, so he couldn't imagine what the two involved were going through. "Billy told me of his parents, Dr. Vision and Wanda Maximoff, and of his brother, Tommy." "How can you know that he didn't look that up in a database?" "He doesn't. But you'll know, Teddy." The cadet raised a brow at that, but Billy pressed on, smiling sadly. "Because I remember Tommy was an absolute douche when I came out, pointing at every passing guy and shouting 'Is he your type?'." Teddy's eyes widened in surprise and welled up with tears. "I remember that you were one of them. You were the only one he pointed to, could have pointed to, for whom the answer was 'yes'. But I had put all of my courage into coming out. 'We Terrans are a peaceful and progressive species!' my ass..." Billy shot a 'no offense' look at Picard, who was far too swept up in his story to be offended. Not that the Captain would have been offended, seeing as he himself agreed that prejudice is still an ailment humanity suffered from. "My courage was all used up, so I lied. I was too scared to admit how I feel about you. I was even more scared to actually tell you how I feel. I really wish I had told you back then because I never got a chance after that..." The cadet hesitantly closed the distance between himself and the Q. "Is it really you?" Warily, he reached out a hand and, when encountering no resistance, he cupped Billy's face. The young Q leaned into the touch. "It's really me, Teddy..." "I'm sure that, whatever happened, you had no control over it." More confident, the cadet used his thumb to wipe away a stray tear on Billy's cheek. "Right?" "Right." Billy leaned forward to rest his forehead against Teddy's. That's when the Captain cleared his throat again. The cadet scrambled back to stand at attention. "Sir! I apologize—" "No apologies necessary, cadet. After all, this is a very unusual situation. Right, Billy?" Picard shot the omnipotent boy a knowing look. "Yes, sir— er... Picard," said Billy, grinning from ear to ear. "Now, I'm sure the two of you have a lot of catching up to do but, alas, I have a ship to run. So if you'll excuse me..." "Yes, sir!" "In this very strange situation, and in this situation only, you may drop the formalities, cadet— oomph!" The Captain suddenly found himself with his lap full and being hugged ferociously by Billy. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" "Er... Well... You're welcome." Picard had forgotten just how young this omnipotent being was until just now. Now that he remembered, his inability to handle kids was coming back strong so he breathed a sigh of relief when Billy popped back over to the cadet's side. "I will cancel cadet Altman's duties for today, but I expect him to be at his post on time tomorrow," said Picard, kind yet stern. "Thank you, sir," said Teddy, deeply heartfelt. He was beaming just as much as Billy. "You're welcome, cadet." Smiled Picard, feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside as the youths left his ready room on foot. He leaned back in his chair to bask in the afterglow of such a touching reunion only to be startled by an unwelcome visitor. "I think I'm going to be sick." Q, the menace not the kid, was sitting atop his desk grimacing at the doors through which the couple left. "What are you doing here, Q?!" "Relax, Jean-Luc. I mean you no harm." "You always say that." Picard ground out angrily. "Well…” said Q, acting as though as he was reviewing his memories to confirm this fact. “Yeah, I guess I do." "Q..." "What, Jean-Luc? Oh. Oh yes! Why am I here?" With a snap, Q was next to Picard, leaning against the chair well into the Captain's personal bubble. "He's a good kid, Jean-Luc. Do be sure that this Teddy doesn't hurt him, hm?" Picard was dumbfounded. Of all the reasons for his impromptu visit, of all of the creative excuses he could have come up with, ‘overprotective sibling’ wasn’t even on the list. Not even close to being on the list. "What the Hell are you playing at?" asked the Captain suspiciously. "Who says I'm playing?" Q retorted, not even trying to feign innocence. Not trying hard, anyway. "Of course you're playing! All you do is play—" The Captain stopped short when a thought occurred to him. He had no evidence to support his sudden theory but it was so very Q that there was a possibility. "Wait, are you the one who hid Ted—" Q pressed a finger to the human's lips, shushing him. "What can I say, Jean-Luc?" With a snap, he was suddenly leaning against the closed doors. "I'm warming up to this whole 'having-a-little-brother' business." "But how could you—" "Pull the wool over my 'messiah' of a baby bro's eyes?" Q griped, like a brother jealous of a successful sibling. "He still thinks like a human. Linear. So very linear. I have to take advantage of this before he learns better." "Dear God…” Picard groaned. “Leave the poor boy alone, Q!" The trickster grinned wickedly, waving daintily at the Captain. "See you later, Jean-Luc." The Captain got to his feet and stormed over towards the smug Q. "Stop coming back..." He trailed off when he realized he was gone. "Well... It's good to know there's one good apple in that rotten bunch." With a sigh, Picard activated his desk's console to research Dr. Vision and his family before returning to the bridge. A couple words into the first file, he suddenly realized that Q had dropped an extraneous bit of information. "'Messiah'?" THE END

#teddy altman #billy kaplan #young avengers #star trek tng #jean luc picard #star trek the next generation #star trek: the next generation #asgardian #hulkling #wiccan #fandom: everything else #ficlet #crossover #marvel #marvel comics

mistina60-deactivated20250108

DOMINION 1X03 THE EPISODE DURING WHICH CASTIEL SHOULD REALLY TAKE NOTES

continued from this post. Me: Let the negotiations begin. Sailor Shipper: Who’s on top? Me: How long Michael can babysit… Mistina60: But if they were to have that particular negotiation, I think it would go like that game of chicken… ~*~ Alex: *orders an ARCHANGEL* Alex: I’M TOPPING! Michael: Dumbass. Michael: *manhandles Alex with superhuman speed and strength because HELLO, ARCHANGEL* Alex: What the fuck- Michael: You have been topped. Alex: DAMMIT!!! ~*~ Me: *bows*

#dominion #dominion syfy #ficlet #fandom: everything else #ships: everything else

All ficlets will be listed there in chronological order there.

#spn pkmn au

Hello, Dean

Title: Hello, Dean Authors: Mistina60 of the Cranky ol’ Fangirls Beta: Stormlyht (THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!) Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel Rating: Um… G? Spoilers: You just need to know who Castiel is and you’re good. Length: 1,188 words Summary: Dean Winchester, now a Pokemon Master, is found by Castiel. 10 years later. 10 FRIGGIN’ YEARS!!! (Revised 2016/06/07) —- They were lost. They were so very, very lost.

Hearing his Emboar squeal happily, something Dean hadn’t heard since Johnny was a wee little Tepig, should had tipped him off to the change in circumstance at the very least. Had he not been so deeply engrossed in not being lost anymore, he would have noticed the strangeness of that sound and looked up. “Quiet, dude!” Dean barked at his Pokemon without looking up from the crinkled and folded open paper he was scrutinizing. “I’m trying to read this friggin’ map! Stupid Stanford City is stupidly far—” “Hello Dean.” A voice suddenly spoke up, the gravelly tone familiar. “Holy f—” Dean whipped around to find himself nose to nose with the man he hadn’t seen since his childhood. “Cas?” he whispered incredulously, heart pounding. “Cas?” the legendary trainer, Castiel, tilted his head owlishly in confusion. “You friggin’ jerk!” Dean pushed Cas roughly, ignoring the embarrassing question. “Where the Hell have you been all this time?! 10 years, man! 10 friggin’ years, you son of a b—” Balthy, Castiel’s currently sheathed Honedge, chirped it’s anger but Cas put a calming hand on the hilt. “I told you before I left, Dean. There was work for me to do—” “Yeah, you said you had stuff to do. I remember.” He rolled his eyes at the obvious answer to the obvious portion of his question. “But I also remember you saying that you’d come when I needed you! But not once in 10 friggin’ years did you come. Not once—” “You never needed my assistance, Dean. Though a little unorthodox at times, you handled all of life’s obstacles—” “Assistance?!” Dean sputtered and words escaped his mouth in the form of a growl before he could stop them. “I didn’t need your assistance, I needed you—” A stunned silence fell over them, emphasized by the rustling of the tall grass lining the road and the faint cacophony of the insects dwelling there. The longer the silence stretched, the redder Dean’s ears became. Emboar burst into a fit of deep throaty chuckles once his trainer turned tomato red, completely flushed with embarrassment. Dean glared daggers at his backstabbing Pokemon, but its intensity was enfeebled by the panic welling up in his chest, suffocating him and threatening to burst through his rib cage. The words were spoken. They were out in the open. Johnny had heard them. Balthy had heard them. Cas… Dean couldn’t take them back, not now, but he couldn’t move forward with those words flitting about. He was trapped. "Dean…" Castiel said softly, taking a cautious step forward. Dean startled and looked like he was about to hyperventilate. He looked so terrible that Johnny wasn’t laughing anymore. "Dean!" Castiel instantly closed the gap between them to grab Dean firmly by the shoulders. "Dean, relax!" "Let go, you son of a bi —” "Dean! Please calm down so I can talk!" Dean was stunned into silence and stillness at Castiel’s raised voice, having never heard it before and having never expected too. Once Cas had Dean’s full attention, he took a breath and smiled softly. "I have been watching over you, Dean. Always." His smile grew wider and wider as he spoke, brilliant with genuine affection. "There were many times I could barely restrain myself from flying down to aid you, despite knowing you were more than capable of resolving the situation. And you did, you made me so proud, Dean. But even so I wanted to…” “Why didn’t you?!” Dean yelled, pulling away and breaking out of Castiel’s grip. “I wasn’t allowed.” “Allowed?!” “I wasn’t allowed to see you until…” his right hand flexed at his side. Dean, upon seeing this, unconsciously rubbed his left shoulder. "Why?” the reason he always wore a tank top was to reveal the hand print shaped birthmark there. “I couldn’t interfere with your natural development. You had to become… you.” Dean snorted, “You are way too late to worry about that, Cas—”at Castiel’s horrified look he quickly elaborated”—no, no, no! You didn’t screw up! It was for the best, Cas.” Confused, Castiel tilted his head in an owlish manner Dean hadn’t seen since he was kid. “You changed my life, dude,” he said with a fond laugh. “Finding a long lost hero gave me hope and confidence.” Dean blanched at Castiel’s recitation of words he’d never spoken aloud. “My anger at his absence gave me strength and drive. This feather gave me a goal.” Everyone was shocked speechless. Not for long, though. Johnny fell to the ground hard, wracked with peals of laughter. “W-W-WHERE IN THE HELL DID YOU HEAR THAT?!!” Dean exclaimed in horror, beet red with humiliation. Even Balthy was chirping his laughter, for crying out loud. “I watched over you, Dean,” Castiel deadpanned, seemingly unaware of Dean’s embarrassment, “and so I heard you too.” “B-but I didn’t say any of that!!!” Dean cried out desperately. “You mouthed it as you wrote it down in your journal.” They fell silent though their Pokemon were still cackling away. “You heard… everything?” “Yes.” “And you still didn’t come?!” “Well…” Castiel hesitated. He wasn’t saying no. “Well what?!” Dean couldn’t believe it. Cas was, honest to God, flustered. Normally the guy responded without a thought. He knew all, he told all— Unless… “Wait. Those times when I came close to giving up and… And I had those dreams where you lectured me a-and comforted me…” Castiel didn’t answer, but his burning cheeks told Dean everything he wanted to know. “That was you?!! Like, the real you and not my dream you?!” Cas raised a brow. “’Dream’ me?” Dean flushed. “What, so you weren’t watching my dreams?” Castiel shook his head. “I only entered your dreams when I couldn’t keep myself from flying down to comfort you in person. But when I did, I needed help from a friend…” Dean was so busted. It just wasn’t his day. “You dreamt about me?” At this point their Pokemon exchanged looks and rolled their eyes when they realized their trainer’s feelings were mutual. Amused, and a little frustrated, they both huffed ‘Humans!' in their respective tongues. “So you couldn’t see my dreams!” Dean abruptly changed the topic for a tiny moment of reprieve. “You heard me? Every time I… I… called for you?” “Yes. Until now, I couldn’t come.” “’Until now?’ Do you mean…?” Castiel position himself so that he was nose to nose with Dean, whose breath hitched at the sudden proximity. It wasn’t unwelcome, just new. “Why…” Cas mumbled. “What?” Even if he wasn’t currently distracted, the question was awfully vague. “Why the tank tops, Dean?” Castiel gazed deeply into Dean’s eyes, squinting in their sincerity. “Why the feather? Why ‘Cas’?” To his everlasting shame, Dean not only blushed, he blushed fiercely. “B-Because… I… I was… waiting….” Castiel carefully placed his right hand on Dean’s left shoulder. It fit perfectly atop the birthmark. “The cycle has begun. Are you ready, Dean?” “Only if you don’t leave,” he replied without hesitation. Castiel smiled brilliantly, his hand still on Dean’s shoulder. “Agreed.” THE END

#destiel #deancas #pokemon #pkmn #supernatural #spn #spn pkmn au

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