DeityofCaffeine

Mostly 3am shitposts, my lover (coffee), random rants and my own wrtiter's tears

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Self-introductory

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[Scorpio sun] - [Libra moon] - [Scorpio rising]

[He/him | FTM] - [INTJ] - [Slytherin] - [Autumn] - [Workaholic]

[Writing two books] - [Writes fanfic on the side] - [drinks too much coffee because of it]

My favourite books: 

The blackthorn key series by Kevin Sands

Sherlock Holmes series by Sir.Arthur Conan Doyle

Harry Potter Series (f-ck you J.K.Rowling)

Educated by Tara Westover

The hidden witch by Chandelle LaVaun

Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Favourite shows/movies:

The Good Doctor

Sherlock

Criminal Minds

The Big Bang Theory - Young Sheldon

The Imitation game

Supernatural

Ghost Adventures

My blog will mostly be shit posts, information about my characters and books, book recommendations, playlists, and the occasional dark academia mood board. This is a safe space for everyone, unless you disrespect someone’s existence, then you are certainly not welcome.

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[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Start of Chapter 8, “Sins of the flesh”

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1359337904-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-8-raised-once-more Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/121978735 ----

Tension hung heavy in the air as Dean and Sam ate their breakfast of homemade pancakes and breakfast sausage; vegan breakfast sausage, in Sam’s case. Although Castiel found no reason to eat anymore as he didn’t have to pretend to be able to taste it, he still insisted on sitting with them.

Dean chewed slowly and methodically, eliciting high levels of nervosity in both the angel and his brother who sat nearby. Their forks and knives clinked against their plates, the light tapping and scratching sounding all too loud in a space that had once been constantly filled with noise when the three of them were together.

“So, erm… I’ve found a case for you two,” Sammy told them cautiously as he pulled a file off his lap and sat it down on the breakfast table, breaking the extremely awkward silence.

“For ‘us two’? What, you’re not coming on the first hunt we’ve had since Cas got back?” Dean asked, lowering his fork and knife to rest on his plate. “No, I need a break the hunts,” Sam told his brother truthfully as he took a breath followed by a bite of his pancakes.

“Have there been any reports on this case?” Castiel questioned as he put down the day’s newspaper dated December 17th, 2008. He took the file and opened it, watching uninterestedly as a map and a few pages slipped out of it.

“Yeah; a handful of people have gone missing in Virginia, in the Shenandoah national park,” Sam told them, watching as Castiel placed five pages in a line, each a different missing person’s report.

“Isabella Morake, Catherine Hilltower, Elizabeth Chinadora, Maxwell Carlem and Stephen Mystarn had all gone missing within two months of each other around the same area; each had been travelling in a group of two to three people when their teammates called the police to report that they had heard screams from the woods. There was blood splattered on the ground and on trees near where they had heard the yelling coming from,” Sam explained moving his hands in explicative motions as he spoke.

“Each scene had claw marks in the dirt, leading any police on the investigations to assume that they were bear attacks and the victims must have upset the bear or bears in some way.” The younger Winchester finished, waiting for Castiel to stop reading the file and reports.

“Five bear attacks in the same area at the beginning of winter? That’s ridiculous,” Dean muttered as he picked his fork and knife back up and stuffed a sausage in his face, chewing slowly to avoid having to speak again.

“Exactly why I think it’s something else; a wendigo, maybe? It matches up; seasons might be a little weird, but it’s possible it’s just stocking up on a bit more food before winter comes,” Sam suggested as he gently pushed his plate away, no longer feeling hungry enough to continue eating.

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Start of Chapter seven, “Sins of the flesh”

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1298315374-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-7-cherry-pie

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/110146278

----

Dean stood at the top of the church on October 26th, 2008, getting prepared for the day’s sermon as usual; he had been on edge for days, trying everything in his might not to call Castiel to make sure that he was okay.

Castiel was an angel, after all; a tricking, pie-stealing, trust-breaking, barbarous hedge-born joitheaded liar of an angel, that is, and Dean was sure he would be just fine without him or Sam nearby to help him. Flipping through his bible to some of the tabs he had out in his bible to be able to find what he wanted to say, Dean heard the front door of the church push open.

Listening closely, the eldest Winchester quickly realized that it was just his brother who had decided to show up a tad early for the sermon. Dean listened as his brother’s footsteps came closer and closer to him, stopping right beside him just as he found the page in his bible that he was searching for.

“What’s up, Sammy?” The priest asked, tilting his head slightly in his brother’s direction. “Cas asked if he could come to see your sermon, since he’s, uh, picking up his books later on,” Sam informed him, though it seemed by Sam’s hesitant that he already knew what the answer to that question was going to be.

“Tell Mr.Novak that there are other churches across town that he may enjoy more,” Dean hummed with a sarcastic smile, still feeling rather upset by the whole ordeal. “Dean, you can’t keep running from-” “Castiel can fuck off, okay, Sam?” Dean snapped, frowning as he pretended to flip pages in his bible again. “Now if you would excuse me, I have things to do, Sammy,”

Dean felt a little bad as Sam sighed and turned away, disappointment radiating over him as he dragged his feet and retreated back to the house. The man could hear the back door slam as he turned another page of his bible, and he tried to remind himself that Sammy was upset with him too and needed a way to express that without too many repercussions. Despite the guilt hanging over him, Dean quickly got the rest of his planning done and stood beside the door to begin greeting guests as they flooded in.

Most were old voices, people who has helped raise Dean and Sam and aid their father in learning how to raise two children on his own, people who had brought the young boys meals when they realized their father left them home alone, just in case they hadn’t eaten in a few days.

Despite this, there were one or two new voices who dropped by to check things out, one has just moved to the area and the other just trying to figure out their religion or what they did and did not believe in. In both cases, Dean welcomed them with open arms and greeted the rest of the usuals before making his way back up to the front to begin the sermon...

[luftballons99]

i can’t stop thinking about @ehlihr‘s teacher!jon au i couldnt NOT draw something for it

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Just an amazing comic my an amazing artist 

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Start of Chapter six, Sins of the Flesh

Start of chapter four, Sins of the flesh.

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1281199235-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-6-castiel-angel-of-the Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/107196657

---- A few calm weeks went by as the temperatures dropped, whatever green was left on the trees shifting to bright fiery colours as they approached the end of October. Winds began to pick up and frost collected on the grass in the early mornings, days shortening as the sun began to lower in the sky earlier and earlier in the evenings. On October 23rd, Dean found himself hunched over a bible, trying to memorize a script for the Sunday sermon, one which his father had always taken very seriously because of the approach of Halloween. John had always been unnecessarily strict about the fact that Halloween was the devil’s work, that ghouls and demons would be invited into your home if you celebrated it. He wasn’t completely incorrect as both a priest and a hunter; many idiots tended to summon things nearing Halloween as a sort of daring and spooky activity, although the celebration itself had no attachment to any sort of gateways, as his father so-called them. Nonetheless, the priest still found himself in the dark of his kitchen, fingers gliding over the same imprints in the paper over and over in a desperate attempt to memorize them all by the 26th. He had, of course, memorized hundreds of passages in the past few years he had been carrying on the family business, but Dean preferred to preach new lectures and teach new things each year instead of simply repeating what he had already said; although there had been a few times he found himself repeating himself when he wasn’t able to think of anything new for that week. Dean barely noticed the passing of time as he worked for hours on his memorization, his mind began to wander as he remembered the happenings only just under four weeks prior; he had heard from Sam that the matricide had continued, and in some sick way, Dean felt guilty for leaving so many people to die. Plagued with guilt and the need to make his father proud, Dean carried on with his memorization and only stopped when Castiel entered the room and lay a gentle hand on his left shoulder. The priest flinched, startled out of his concentration at the sudden touch; he hadn’t even heard Castiel’s footsteps. “Jesus, Cas! Warn a guy before you touch him,” Dean grumbled as he fixed his terrible posture, raising his arms above his head as he stretched. “I apologize, Dean, usually I don’t have to,” Castiel apologized softly as he placed a mug on the table in front of Dean, the thick glass clunking against the table as it was set down. Dean picked up the mug and took a careful sniff of it before taking a sip, his brow creasing in confusion as he recognized the bitter taste of coffee on his tongue. “Why are you giving me coffee so late?” The priest questioned as he set the mug back down, careful not to spill any on his bible. “Late? No, Dean, it’s early. It’s five am,” Castiel informed as he sat down beside his friend at the table and sipped at his own coffee, made with cream and sugar.

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Start of chapter five, Sins of the flesh

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1274665060-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-5-50s-throwback

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/105834339

----

“Good morning, father Winchester, how was your hiatus?” A young mother asked as Dean welcomed her into the church, her little daughter perched carefully on her hip.

“My hiatus?” Dean questioned, though tried to make it too obvious that he hadn’t any idea what she was talking about.

“Why, yes; your four-month hiatus, to strengthen your relationship with god. How was it?” She questioned once more, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice. “Oh; yes, it was wonderful, thank you,” Dean hummed, doing his absolute best to smile as he continued to greet the guests into the church.

Dean eventually carried on the service, as usual, standing in front of everyone; however, about three minutes into the service he began to struggle slightly. The braille pages beneath his fingers felt foreign after all this time, the words seemed almost caught in his throat but Dean had to push through it, the quiet shuffles and coughs of people in the building overwhelming him slightly.

Near the end of service, the man almost had to have Sam take over, but he was too stubborn to allow it and ushed on; it was a relief when it was finally over, Dean’s energy mostly depleted by the time lunch was served.

“So get this,” Sam announced as he sat down at the table for lunch after Sunday service, the newspaper resting in his lap as he ate. “Apparently, there’s a town in the next state that’s had an unusually high amount of mariticide; nearly a dozen wives in the past two months murdering their husbands, all from the same town,” Sam told them, though Dean was slightly distracted by the sheer amount of noise that the many guests were making.

The many chattering guests mixed with the sounds of his two associates chewing their food, along with whatever other bothers were coming from the forest, the eldest Winchester couldn’t help but be reminded of his time in hell. “That is very odd… do you think it may be worth travelling for?” Castiel asked as he took a bite of his burger, a bit of ketchup falling onto his plate.

Dean shrugged, stuffing a bite of food into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days. “I think it’d be worth looking around, I'm in need of a good fight,” The priest joked, straightening his posture and whipping his face with a napkin as he heard someone approaching. The person veered away, though, walking off towards some other table away from the priest, his brother and best friend.

“Alright, we’ll leave right after lunch clean-up, then,” Sam settled as the three finished their meals. Dean continued to struggle throughout the cleaning process, his ears beginning to ring and his blood pumping in his ears as he fought off what could only be called a panic attack, caused by overstimulation.

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Y’know it's kinda screwed up that I had to rely on books to give me comfort growing up and that translated in perfectionism and writing obsessively because I'll now never be satisfied with my reality because I'm always chasing the feelings I've gotten from certain kinds of media despite knowing that I'll never feel that way again. BUT ANYWAY, C’EST LA VIE, GO BE HUMANS, GO HAVE FUN :)

[anxietymuffin]

HERES SOME FILLER ART

Enjoy my non Fallout related ocs from a book I’m writing with my friend @deityofcaffeine-writerstears

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

AIDONEUS, OPHELIA AND LIV- MY BELOVEDS!! Truly incredible art and characters that are dear to my heart.

[korvidbrekker]

Catboy!Virgil surrounded by every pillow/plushie etc. in existence. Just a cozy boy in bed.

He's so cozy.

If you like, please reblog. <3

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Everyone must see the cozy cat boy Virgil.

[bonelessenthusiast]

autistic people are allowed to fit autism stereotypes

i take things literally. i don’t get a lot of neurotypical humor and often feel left out of the joke or even feel like i’m the joke sometimes. i’m gullible. there’s no way to sugarcoat it or put it more nicely, i’m just gullible. i don’t always know what’s satire. i’m socially awkward and have a hard time befriending or remaining friends with anybody who isn’t like me.

much of the autism community puts so much emphasis on “all autistic people aren’t x” and not enough on “who cares if we’re x, we deserve rights”

this goes doubly for ID and nonspeaking autistics btw i just can’t speak to that experience personally

[nightowlqueen]

[headspace-hotel]

Nothing on tiktok is this funny

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Re-blogging for the vine.

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

I have a mixed relationship with studying.

On one end, I absolutely adore it; the classical or gentle music I listen to as my pen glides against the page, the controlled chaos that litters my desk and the dim lighting of my lamp.

On the other hand, however, I hate it; the seemingly endless hours I spend studying and yet never learning, the few bits of knowledge I do retain about these subjects I despise barely enough to get me passed with a decent enough grade.

If only I could learn to love the ache in my hands after writing for hours again, the challenge of understanding new knowledge made fun again.

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

The captain goes down with the ship.

Coffee_Sigh.Rho. · Playlist · 48 songs

Yes another playlist I made. Not my art on the cover.

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Remembering a lost love.

Coffee_Sigh.Rho. · Playlist · 68 songs

Another playlist I made :) Photography on the cover does not belong to me.

[lyralit]

ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ

ᴅɪᴀʟᴏɢᴜᴇ ➼

"pull me closer..."

"coffee or tea?"

"get the blankets."

"I'm turning up the heat!"

"it's fine. you're here now."

"look at the moon..."

"my hands are cold." "is that a pickup line?"

"ugh, finally!"

"remember that time...?"

"do you want to sit?"

"have a coffee."

"let's share."

"oh, it's adorable!"

"shall I start the fire?"

"ugh, you make me dizzy."

"you're my happy place." "don't get cheesy on me."

"you smell nice."

"hold my hand. please."

"did you make that yourself?"

"that smells so. good."

"what film?"

"this is somewhere I feel safe."

"I'm going to fall asleep..."

"it's already twelve?"

"it's just how I remember..."

"look, look!"

ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ➼

draping a blanket over their sleeping body

knowing how / if they take their coffee

squeezing hands

splitting a cake in a small café

spinning around together until you get dizzy

crashing together on the couch after a long day

knowing each others' tells

watching the rainfall

jamming out to the radio at midnight

cooking for the sick friend even though they're bad at it

lighting candles

snuggling in a blanket in front of the tv

hiccuping tears into their shoulder

rocking back and forth in their arms

pulling out that favourite hoodie

/ the collection of stolen hoodies

staying up until midnight to talk

roasting burnt marshmallows

sneaking out to look at the stars

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

I painted a mirror. An eye for an eye, friends.

[deityofcaffeine-writerstears]

Atelophobia is a plague that attacks your mind and not only instils the fear of not being good enough in your mind, it is a package deal of insecurities and overworking. Atelophobia is working into the late hours of the night, writing and thinking for fear of failure; it is empty coffee cups and fighting insomnia to get just one last page of work done, or so you say. It’s feeling eyes watching you as you type until your fingers are sore, until you really can’t keep up your own eyelids, until your eyes are burning from the amount of hours you’ve forced them open.

It is worrying about the future, wondering if you really are taking on too much but forcing through it, all for the sake of not failing. But what is failing, if not the fear of never achieving perfection? Atelophobia at it’s core is the fear of losing a battle you had no chance of winning.