Hey! I’m glad to see this blog is still up and running because I’m actually the creator (I guess?) who made it in 2014 lol it’s nice to see that it’s been kept alive all these years later !!
I wish we could keep it way more active but all of us have been really busy for a while! We’re looking for new admins rn 😊
GUYS. THIS IS IMPORTANT. A lot of people probably don’t know about this, I didn’t until now. And quite frankly, the hate people in this fandom are getting right now is just disgusting. So reblog to let your followers know they can do this!!
100 is a lot unless you write a lot of dialogue. I wonder if just linking fics on my word press would work because god damn this site is making things difficult. It’s like they’re trying to have people not use it.
yeah I noticed this, and I completely hate it lmao because I do write a lot of dialogue and I write small paragraphs for easy readability ): I might have to post everything on AO3 and just link it on here :/
The title apparently counts as one line since it wouldn’t let me go past 99.
Seriously @staff ????
IMPORTANT EDIT
EVERYONE CALM DOWN!!!
I tried this on desktop and did not hit a limit. It looks like a limitation of mobile posts.
I didn’t bother going past 543 because ain’t nobody got time for that, but there is no 100 block limit on desktop. You’re just going to have to post your fics on your computer or through your mobile web browser instead of the app.
Please reblog this version of the post so that people don’t totally freak out
7:40pm Pst I do not understand how I missed 4:20 ... Hey good music would be nice!
I’m currently listening to Ryan Caraveo. Some damn good songs, but not all happy joyful. Try listening to Andy Grammer’s “Honey, I’m good.” This song is a personal favorite of mine, but really most of his songs are my ‘feel good’ go-to.
You took one more swig of the handle and set it on the cold tile ground.
One thing you always looked forward to with showers was the steam building in the room. It was a sort of comfort, to feel the cloud of warm moisture as you inhaled, and the cool from exhale.
But this time - maybe from lack of energy, maybe from lack of care - the water ran cold.
You emerged you naked body into the shower, letting the water hit your face, drain through your hair, and travel down your body.
Slowly, your legs grew tired from the weight on your shoulders, and within moments, you were sitting down in the stand up shower.
Your eyes began to close, resting your head back against the wall. Tears, blending with the water droplets, fell down your checks.
The bathroom door creaked as someone entered. You didn’t care to look, until they pushed the curtains open.
It was Dean, standing tall yet broken. His breaths were heavy, and his eyes a sore red.
Had this hunt really taken a toll on everyone? The boys seemed to treat it like just another Tuesday, brushing that little girl’s death off like just another casualty of war. But as you looked up at Dean, it was almost as if he had removed his armor and stood before you in human form- human pain.
He was fully clothed, but didn’t seem to bother him as he entered the tub and sat in front of you.
The two of you stayed still, looking down and not speaking. The world seemed to slow around you. You listened as the water hit your skin and splashed the tub, hearing each drop.
You voice cracked as you spoke. “Does… does it ever get easier?”
Dean pulled you into him, pulling your face into his chest as he rested his head on top of your own. “No,” he said, “but… you will never be alone.”
Summary: Castiel tries to help Dean get for restful sleep by using his knowledge of a pop-culture movie.
Word Count: 1,200
Warnings: Little angst, nightmares, but mostly just fluff :)
A/N: So this was meant to just be a fluffy drabble, but my depressed ass went and added a bunch of angst to lead up to the fluff… Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy.
Castiel recalled a movie he had seen several weeks before, where - in one scene - the main character was struggling to sleep. As the fictional female twisted and turned, sweat dripping from her forehead, and the bed covers spread to all corners of the room, her loved one joined her on the bed. Pulling her close to him, her ear explicitly above his heart, she almost instantly and subconsciously calmed down.
Castiel and Sam sat across from each other in the library. As Sam’s eyes were clearly growing heavier by minute, Castiel held perfect focus.
“Humans find comfort in company,” Castiel stated. “Don’t they?”
Summary: Castiel tries to help Dean get for restful sleep by using his knowledge of a pop-culture movie.
Word Count: 1,200
Warnings: Little angst, nightmares, but mostly just fluff :)
A/N: So this was meant to just be a fluffy drabble, but my depressed ass went and added a bunch of angst to lead up to the fluff... Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy.
Castiel recalled a movie he had seen several weeks before, where - in one scene - the main character was struggling to sleep. As the fictional female twisted and turned, sweat dripping from her forehead, and the bed covers spread to all corners of the room, her loved one joined her on the bed. Pulling her close to him, her ear explicitly above his heart, she almost instantly and subconsciously calmed down.
Castiel and Sam sat across from each other in the library. As Sam’s eyes were clearly growing heavier by minute, Castiel held perfect focus.
“Humans find comfort in company,” Castiel stated. “Don’t they?”
Sam looked up from his book and over to the angel (who, while Sam was doing important research for a case, was just staring off into the obis). Sam considered not answering his question, but he had to admit he was a little curious as to where Castiel was going with his inquiry.
“Well, I guess,” he said. “But it depends on the context. What does that have to do with the case at hand?”
“Actually a good deal,” Castiel answered. He turned his body to face Sam. “It’s proven that humans perform, both mentally and physically, better when they are well rested. Not only would it benefit you if you were to get a few extra hours, but it would benefit everyone if Dean got more hours of restful sleep.”
Sam huffed. “It’d be helpful if Dean was with us now, instead of drinking his way to sleep hours ago.”
“Dean is doing what he needs to in order to take care of himself,” Castiel said in defense. “But it’s not enough. He’s restless.”
“What do you mean?”
Castiel’s face dropped ever so slightly. “Dean hasn’t been sleeping well recently, or much of all for that matter. Most of the time he’ll sit there with his eyes wide awake, and even after passing out, he’ll still cry.”
“Wow,” Sam said after gaining insight on Dean he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know. “How do you-”
“I watch you two sleep.” After seeing Sam’s face drop, Castiel quickly added, “For protection.”
“You stalk us,” Sam said.
“I like to think of it as keeping tabs.”
Sam shook his head, then closed his book and put it on the table. “Whatever you want to call it, my room is off limits from now on.” He stood up. “I think imma call it a night though. All this talk about sleep has-” he yawed, “you get the point.”
“Before you go to bed,” Castiel asked, “would you mind spending two minutes comforting Dean? I feel like mild cuddling would be beneficial.”
Sam raised his finger in rebuttal, but quickly decided he didn’t want to have that particular conversation with the angel. Lowering his finger with a sigh, Sam simply turned and began walking away. “I’ll leave that to you, Cas. Lemme know how it goes.”
Castiel had gotten much better at being able to identify and understand sarcasm, but Sam might have had a point. Although the brother’s connection was far greater than any other bond he had observed, there would be a certain awkwardness if Sam had been the one to aid Dean to sleep.
As they were not related, Castiel might have been a better option. Despite having no interest in cuddling, or even sleeping for that matter, Castiel had a slight cheer in his eyes as he made his way to Dean’s bedroom.The angel strode through the hallways with a purpose, his trench coat flowing behind him.
When he reached Dean’s bedroom, the shifting sheets became apparent from the other side of the door. Opening it, he saw Dean in distress upon the mess he had made of his bed. Sweat was dripping from his blood rushed head, and he was grasping the covers with his hands at both sides.
Castiel’s heart broke a little seeing Dean in so much pain that he couldn’t even find peace in his sleep. Castiel was bred with the purpose of constant battle, tiring days and nights without rest. But humans, they were fragile. With everything the boys had been through, Castiel was almost surprised they hadn’t already shattered.
Castiel examined Dean’s situation. Unlike the movie, where the girl was on her side and curled up, Dean laid on his back like a plank. It would be difficult to get him into a position where Castiel could hold him.
He instead decided on another approach.
Castiel walked slowly and calmly, trying not to awake Dean. He crawled onto the bed and to Dean’s left side. As he slid his right arm under Dean, almost to cradle the back of his neck, Castiel rested his head on Dean’s shoulder and placed his other arm on Dean’s chest.
Castiel noticed the smell and feeling of cold sweat on Dean’s entire body, but he didn’t mind it.
At first, Castiel got worried. Dean’s body didn’t change. It stayed tense, twitching uncontrollably at what Castiel assumed was a nightmare.
But then it happened.
As if instinct, Dean body relaxed and his left arm wrapped around Castiel. The way their bodies connected like puzzle pieces felt so natural to the angel. Within moments, Dean buried his face in Castiel’s mess of hair, and began to cry.
Castiel had seen Dean cry on several occasions, but not like this. Before, it was always a painful cry, either fueled by anger or loss, and powerful enough to break Dean. But this time was light. Not forced by any emotion, but rather as if a great weight had been lifted from Dean and he could finally feel safe enough giving in.
Dean’s breathing got smoother, his body temperature cooled, and his crying lessen until creasing. Before too long, he was in a deep rest.
Castiel’s original plan was to stay long enough to get Dean to sleep and then leave to continue research on their current case. But he no longer wanted to leave.
Of course, there was the small pride Castiel had from his plan actually succeeding, even with Sam’s doubt. But there’s was more of a comfort in Dean’s reaction. With Dean holding on to Castiel, lightly but certain, he would regret leaving.
On top of that, Castiel also felt relaxed from Dean’s hold. Always being caught up in a case or mission, Castiel rarely got a chance to simply rest. If the Winchesters got this privilege, why should he not?
Before to long, Castiel decided on staying with Dean for the night. He wouldn’t call it sleep, as angel were physically incapable of it, but as his eyes closed, Castiel mind was allowed this state of absolute blankness. His body melted into Dean’s, and he was at peace.
Obviously the conversation in the morning was awkward. At first, Dean was taken aback by waking up to the angel at his side, but as Castiel explained the previous night, Dean began to understand. And he even admitted to getting the best sleep he could remember in years.
Castiel was pleased with his efforts.
When Castiel and Dean entered the kitchen together that morning, with Dean wearing his embarrassed and frustrated ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ face, Sam, who was alreading sitting down eating his breakfast, shot wide eyes at the both of them.
Dean rushed to the refrigerator to grab his food.
Castiel had the mildest smirk on his face when he looked at Sam. The only words Castiel said were simply, “It went well,” in response to Sam's previous comment.
Summary: Dean walks into Cas watching some adult films. When he finds out the reason is not for Castiel’s pleasure, Dean must convince Cas that he’s enough.
Word Count: 560
Warnings: Mention of Porn (no description) A/N: So I got this idea after watching the Pizza Man episode. Although there is mention of porn, this isn’t smut. It’s fluffy Destiel with a little insecure Cas and comforting Dean. Hope y'all enjoy!
“Cas…” Dean stared at the angel on the couch, his own laptop on Castiel’s lap. “What the Hell are you doing?”
Castiel never took his eyes off the screen. “I was alone.”
“We talked about this, dude. No porn.” He shook his head, walking over.
“You said no porn when I was around others.” As soon as Dean stole the laptop, he looked up and added, “And I wasn’t around others.”
Dean had a confused face at the site. “Red-tube, man? Where did you even get the account?”
He stood up. “Crowley.”
Dean rolled his eyes, then closed the site. “Of course. But why are you even watching this? You can’t understand jack about it.”
“You like porn, yes?”
Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Sure, as much as the next man, but-”
“And you like the way sex is portrayed in this films, correct?”
He nodded. “Skip to the punch line, Cas.”
“Crowley told me that you like people with experience. Well,” Castiel flicked his eyes away for a second, “before you, I was a virgin. I was just hoping to learn more efficient ways to please you in sexual activities.”
At that, Dean burst into laughter, placing his hand on Castiel’s shoulder for support. When the angle did not join with him, Dean calmed himself and took a breath. “Wait, are you serious?”
“You have never disappointed me, Dean.” His face held a slight hint of worry. “I just want to show you the same.”
“Do you honestly think I’m judging our relationship on the quality of your sex? Cas, please.”
“Members of those adult movies are very talented, I assume. It seems only reasonable that you would expect the same from me.”
Dean sighed, a comforting half smile on his face. He moved so he was just in front of Castiel, hands on both shoulders and gazing straight into his eyes. “Cas, porn stars are hired because of their skills under the sheets. But I’m not dating you because you’re good at sex, which you are anyway.
“And I could pick up any girl at a bar and have a good night, but you’re the only one that understands the life, understands my struggles, and is willing to put up with me when I’m going downstream, knee high in shit.
“I didn’t choose you because I wanted perfect sex. No, this isn’t some one night stand, Cas. You’re my boyfriend because you’re perfect as my boyfriend. Sex is only one part of a relationship, and I love you for every single part. I love you, just the way you are.”
Castiel began to smile. Being human had caused some insecurities he had never understood as an angel, but it also allowed him to feel this happy. “I love you too, Dean, I just want to prove it.”
“And you do, Cas, trust me. But sex is no proof. The way you always want to heal my tiniest cuts, the way you kiss me awake in the morning, the way you try your hardest to be romantic. That, that is proof. Anyone can be good at sex, but only you could be good at being my boyfriend.”
Castiel leaned into Dean’s chest, burying his face. Dean wrapped his arms around him. He whispered, “And plus, the more bad you are at sex just means the more I can to teach you,” and winked.
Warnings: Fluff, Castiel’s Hair (which, tbh, might warrant a NSFW tag by itself)
A/N: Just a short little Megstiel fluff for y’all. -Admin Rachel
Castiel stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, still slightly fogged from his warm shower. Simple human tasks such as bathing - although pointless to the angel - had a rather calming effect that he had grown attached to.
His hair was still damp and in a mess as he grabbed a small section. He twirled it around his finger, noticing how it had grown. Human hair grew, he thought. However, a human vessel didn’t age- or at least shouldn’t.
Castiel had keep note of Jimmy’s body aging. Although subtle, it was not as it should have been. He often wondered if, by spending as much time on Earth as he did, he was growing almost human.
The thought passed as it mattered little.
Castiel grabbed the scissors and raised them to the bunch of hair he held. Opening the pair, he took a deep breath.
“Woah, woah, slow down there, angel boy.” Meg enter the bathroom, shaking her head with a smile. “Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“Cutting my hair,” he answered sternly. “A regular task,” he continued, “of which I didn’t think required interrogation.”
Meg smirked. She reached for the scissors, having to raise her feet in order to match his height. She took them, then returned them to their proper place amongst the bathroom shelves. “Well, you thought wrong.”
She walked closer to Castiel, looking up into his blue eyes. Running her fingers through his hair, she clenched her hand to pull him down into a kiss.
Castiel felt Meg’s lips form into a smile as he pulled her into his chest.
Kissing: another human task he had grown fond of.
When their makeout session ended, Meg returned her gaze to his hair. Shaking her hand through it, making more of a mess than it had originally been, she just smiled.
“Yeah,” she said, “there’s no way I’m ever letting you shorten this beautiful chaos you’ve got going on.”
Castiel thought for a moment. Although he was not much of a flirt, or even knew how to be a proper part of a relationship for that matter, he returned with, “Well, if it means more kisses like that, I’ll never want to cut it.”
~~~
A/N (pt. 2): Hey guys, lemme know if you liked this/wish to be tagged in future work. I’m doing Daily Drabbles on my main blog, @grumpy-kittycas. Please feel free to go check it out and request drabbles. Love you all.
Warnings: Fluff, Castiel’s Hair (which, tbh, might warrant a NSFW tag by itself)
A/N: Just a short little Megstiel fluff for y’all. -Admin Rachel
Castiel stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, still slightly fogged from his warm shower. Simple human tasks such as bathing - although pointless to the angel - had a rather calming effect that he had grown attached to.
His hair was still damp and in a mess as he grabbed a small section. He twirled it around his finger, noticing how it had grown. Human hair grew, he thought. However, a human vessel didn’t age- or at least shouldn’t.
Castiel had keep note of Jimmy’s body aging. Although subtle, it was not as it should have been. He often wondered if, by spending as much time on Earth as he did, he was growing almost human.
The thought passed as it mattered little.
Castiel grabbed the scissors and raised them to the bunch of hair he held. Opening the pair, he took a deep breath.
“Woah, woah, slow down there, angel boy.” Meg enter the bathroom, shaking her head with a smile. “Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“Cutting my hair,” he answered sternly. “A regular task,” he continued, “of which I didn’t think required interrogation.”
Meg smirked. She reached for the scissors, having to raise her feet in order to match his height. She took them, then returned them to their proper place amongst the bathroom shelves. “Well, you thought wrong.”
She walked closer to Castiel, looking up into his blue eyes. Running her fingers through his hair, she clenched her hand to pull him down into a kiss.
Castiel felt Meg’s lips form into a smile as he pulled her into his chest.
Kissing: another human task he had grown fond of.
When their makeout session ended, Meg returned her gaze to his hair. Shaking her hand through it, making more of a mess than it had originally been, she just smiled.
“Yeah,” she said, “there’s no way I’m ever letting you shorten this beautiful chaos you’ve got going on.”
Castiel thought for a moment. Although he was not much of a flirt, or even knew how to be a proper part of a relationship for that matter, he returned with, “Well, if it means more kisses like that, I’ll never want to cut it.”
~~~
A/N (pt. 2): Hey guys, lemme know if you liked this/wish to be tagged in future work. I’m doing Daily Drabbles on my main blog, @grumpy-kittycas. Please feel free to go check it out and request drabbles. Love you all.
^ A quote from a new fic I’m writing. It’s going to be angst, A LOT OF ANGST, and all the feels. I just finished the intro (a short little drabble to introduce the AU) and will hopefully be posting it later tonight.
I know I’ve been inactive for almost a year now (god damn…) but I’m really in love with this new series.
Okay guys, I just finished the first part to this AU I’m working on, and, well, I’m a mentally, emotional mess right now.
I’m just waiting on some personal edits and some beta-ing and it should be posted tomorrow night. (not that anyone is really keeping tabs at this point)
Basic Summary:
The Winchesters won what would be their greatest battle yet, but it came at a most dreadful cost. Now don’t get them wrong, the brothers have faced tremendous loss, but nothing more mentally straining than this. However, when Sam is faced with a basically the definition of life changing decision, will he choose to take the easy way out?
As always, if you’d like to be tagged, please let me know.
Summary: Dean vents to a bartender with some life advice, then visits an old friend for a final goodbye.
Word Count: 800
Warnings: Character death
A/N: This is just something short to prove I can actually write, lol. Look forward for more to come. :)
“Okay,” the bartender said, “what’s your story?”
“Huh?” Dean asked, the bourbon slurring his words.
She leaned over the bar, then pointed to the three - almost four - empty shot glasses. “Everyone in here has a story. Usually they’ll be in so often, I can read ‘em like a book. Or they drink enough until they end up spilling their whole life. But you… you’ve come in every day for the past week and haven’t said a word past your order.” She paused, looking Dean top to bottom. “So what’s your story.”
“Long,” he said, nursing his drink, “too long.”
“Well, I’ve got another half hour before the bar closes and we’re not exactly packed.”
He looked around. Much like the last couple nights, the bar was quiet, Dean being the first and last in.
“I’ll answer your question, if you answer mine,” he finally said.
She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Fair.”
“Why do you want to know? Countless men come in on the daily, all more than happy to have a beautiful woman such as yourself give two shits about their life. So why give any shits about mine?”
“Well, beauce you’re a mystery. Like I said, I can read most anyone like the open book they are. And they’re boring- all the same story. You’ve got something more, and I’m curious.”
He thought for a moment. “Fine, okay.” Dean tilted his head back, and took his shot, the sting a familiar comfort. “I work in a very dangerous occupation. A lot of people get hurt. It’s hard to do alone, so… well sometimes I need help. I got someone very important to me involved and…”
“They got hurt?” she asked.
He slowly nodded. “You can say that. And now… I don’t think I can forgive myself.”
“Well shit.” She turned, grabbing the Jack and two shot glasses.
“Aren’t you on the clock?”
She poured the dark liquor. “You’re an exception.”
They both grabbed the glass, maybe hoping for something a little stronger, but settling for anything to numb.
A little after the glasses landed back on the table, the girl looked back at Dean. “Ever consider a different occupation?”
“Not in my cards, sweetheart. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried, but it’s like this diseases I was born with. It’s the family business, and there’s not much family left to carry it on.”
“Lemme guess, they got hurt too?”
He nodded. “More like killed.”
“Well shit.”
“But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that everyone dies. Doesn’t matter much how.”
“No, not really,” she sighed, “but it does matter how you live, and dying young kinda puts a cease to that.”
They both sat in silence for a moment, until she finally said, “You know, I used to be in the business.”
“Different business,” Dean scoffed.
She tilted her head. “Hunting. You’re a hunter, aren’t you?”
He paused. “How did you-”
“I read people, remember?” She took a breath. “My family brought me into it too, and I thought it was over. I thought I had no other life… But look at me now. Been clean almost five years.”
She used ‘clean,’ as if hunting was some kind of drug one would get hooked on. Maybe she had a point.
“I’m glad,” he said, sorrow in his tone. “But I’ve tired. Don’t work for everyone.”
And silence took the room once more.
“I should probably get goin’,” Dean said. “I’ve got one more thing to do tonight.”
“Hey, I never caught your name.”
“Dean,” he said, setting enough cash on the table to pay for double his tab.
“Sammy,” she added. “Well, will I see you tomorrow, Dean?”
He closed his eyes, trying to hide his emotion. “No, Sammy, I don’t think so. I think it’s time I moved on.”
Sammy nodded. “Just remember, it’s not too late for you.”
But Dean didn’t reply. He just walked out.
~~~
The grass was still moist from the evening’s rain, and the crisp air send shivers down Dean’s spine. But he barely even noticed, his focus was set on walking forward and not collapsing onto the ground.
After what seemed like hours, Dean finally stood ahead in front of the headstone.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’m sorry I failed you.”
He fell to the ground, tears falling from his eyes. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this, I shouldn’t have. You could have had a life, and now… You had a chance, more of a chance than any other of us.”
He stared at the dates engraved in the stone. “It should have been me, god dammit it.” He spoke softly, regret flowing out of his mouth.
“I'm done,” Dean stated, “I'm getting out. I'm gonna go find Lisa, I'm gonna beg her to take me back, and I'm gonna live- just like you wanted…”
He laid the little bronze amulet just under the head stand. While walking away, he whispered, “I'm sorry… Sammy.”
How elegant a heart is- beautiful and fragile like glass.
This world is the furnace, burning and melting the grains of sand into something people perceive as value. But with such refinement comes great delicacy.
You see, just as a heart, glass can’t be shattered with only a few strikes.
Sure, the first couple hits will crack it, the lines spreading to all sides, and the piece never able to regain its original fullness. Its form will be deformed, its style will be destroyed, but in a sense, it will stay whole. Glass, as brittle as it is, has more strength than most give credit.
It takes more than a couple petty throwbacks to shatter completely. In fact, it’s almost impossible. One hit, from one person - one object - can’t break its fortitude. And then one more hit, from one more person, with one more object, hitting at a different place with a different force, will once again only crack it.
If one wishes to shatter glass, one must hit the same shot again, and again, and again, until the structure can no longer handle the force.
You see, the only way to shatter glass is to continuously strike its weakest point, so it has no other choice than to revert to its origins, back to scattered grains of abandoned sand.
A heart is the same way. It can broken again and again, different people– different times. But it can only be shattered by one, the one who comes back to strike again.
gummygunk
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
