seen from Ireland
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Japan
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Spain
seen from China
seen from Serbia
11/04/23
a strzyga is a usually female demon similar to vampire in Slavic (and especially Polish) folklore. these undead creatures were believed to fly at night in a form of an owl and attack travelers, sucking out their blood and eating their insides.
reply to be added to the tag list
So, my friend @naughtystiel started this AU, and I was fascinated by the idea of a Slavicnatural trip! For all the consequences blame dearest Naughtystiel and please have a close look at the Slavicnatural tag! (and yes, the uncensored version is on Twitter, all links are here linktr.ee/shedarart ) And yep, the animation is loading painfully long, thanks Tumblr.)
Winter of the century (aka chapter 1)
Correcting himself nervously on the bench, Dean clung more tightly to the angel. Cas sat leaning toward the fire, casting a look of clear blue eyes into the dark smoke in reverie. His hands were entwined together as if in silent prayer, folded loosely in his lap. His elbow partially brushed Dean's thigh, though it was unlikely to be intentional.
Temporarily giving up the struggle for attention or a bit of longed-for warmth from a source blandly associated with the temperature, Dean focused on the storytelling woman. Watching her proved to be an impossible mission, so he devoted all his attention to the spoken words. Spoken slowly, and forcefully, leaving behind an unintelligible tremor in the air as they all collectively held their breath.
The woman had a strange accent, though Dean couldn't pinpoint exactly where it might have come from. He associated the voice itself with a dense forest, soft undergrowth, moss, and the sticky smell of resin. With his father's raised voice and monsters hiding under Sammy's bed.
The wood in the bonfire crackled merrily, sending more sparks into the air. The dried bark quickly turned into black dust, and every thinner twig curled up in an inexplicable dance before finally falling away with resignation and also turning into nothingness.
Suddenly, the smell of smoked fruit in the tea seemed very much at home with him.
"Do you guys know Baba Yaga?" the old woman probably directed this question to the children, who eagerly shook their heads. However, from behind the cover of the fire, Dean got the impression that dark eyes were staring straight at him. It was only at that moment, when all of his muscles tensed at once, holding stillness, that he realized he had been nervously twitching his leg earlier.
since I saw the post by @naughtystiel I have slavicnatural brainrot and I was thinking to myself wow art and fics are amazing
but
where is
the SHITPOSTING
and then I remembered I have this gem stored
czy to dobry moment na przypomnienie, że kanonicznie w kiepskich istnieje bóg, św piotr oraz archanioł michal?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
"So the victims are linked by... what? Nightmares? Stress?" asked Sam at last, dipping his fork into his meatless version of the stew. A despicable imitation of the real culinary marvel that Dean had just slogged through. A mouthful of the meat and vegetable pasta mixture dripped with juicy tomato sauce. The burnt tongue seemed a true miracle of irony in frigid conditions.
As strange as the small town seemed, Dean had to give the local people credit for really knowing how to cook. He still fondly recalled the meatballs from the mayor's wife's recipe. And the stew currently disappearing from his plate at an alarming rate was to haunt him in dreamy fantasies for years to come. Of that he was sure.
A satisfied moan of pleasure ripped from the depths of his throat, drawing two pairs of wide-open eyes to Dean. Sam seemed horrified, almost disgusted. Whereas Cas... Well, hello there. Dean did so miss the dark look of fascination and wanting on the angel's face. Huh.
"Dean," Sam rebuked him, tightening his fingers around the cutlery.
Deciding to ignore the whole incident, his thoughts returned to the course of the conversation. The victims and the clichés connecting them fit the whole local community. Yeaaaah.
"They are also united by their fucking love for the forest and the stories of the old hag. Like all the crazy people in this town. If I hear about the spring equinox celebration again..." he announced, chewing on a particularly rubbery piece of meat. His eyebrows went up of their own accord as if the very thought of the fucking equinox was enough to give him a headache. Which might as well have been true, as the knowledge offered to them by the locals didn't lend itself to anything else.
Chapter 3 of my destiel case fic is up! Come and enjoy <3 And maybe leave a word or two :>
~ And the fick is done ~
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
"She'll feel it," assured Cas, when this time he was the one crouching next to him, checking Dean's condition. They treated him like a child. Rightly so, in fact. "She'll come."
Dean at the dal didn't quite understand everything. But if this time it was enough to summon and defeat the enemy, then maybe they were finally on the right track. They were all exhausted, in bloody clothes, babysitting to Dean going out of his mind, yet closer to winning. Somehow.
Dean tightened the cord once again, making a knot to support the structure. He put the stick aside.
After a quick inspection of his surroundings - Sam had disappeared into an adjacent room, they were alone - he found the angel's gaze. The blue eyes stared at him with care. Not concern, not reprimand, not pity. Only care that came from sincere affection.
With a frozen hand, he reached for the angelic one that lined up so perfectly with his own. He held back the anger boiling under his skin and sighed more deeply.
"Cas… I'm seriously losing it. And I trust you, I do, buddy."
"Buddy," the angel repeated, and the glow emanating from him seemed to dim.
"Sunshine," corrected Dean. "Sweetheart. Darling… love." Each successive word fell quieter, yet it did not lose its power. On the contrary. Each successive one made him all the more certain. "I'm endlessly stupid. You know it. And that's not gonna change. But I need you to know… That I care, Cas. I fucking care so much."
"Dean, it's not time…"
Ferdstiel lamp confirmed? in "World according to LOSEchesters"?
