#tragidean

[the-feral-cat]

Im watching Lizzie play Pathologic Classic, its going well, we started a collection

[xylodemon]

deancas fic: A Reasonable Amount of Trouble (86K, nsfw)

A Reasonable Amount of Trouble; deancas, 86K, nsfw.

"Deano," Donna says brightly. She must still be at the office; the white noise behind her is all hushed voices and keyboard clacks. "I was kind of surprised to hear from you. Word is you're on the wrong side of the law these days."

"You know me," Dean says, sighing. "I'm always in a reasonable amount of trouble."

This is an AU where Dean is both a hunter and a private investigator, and Cas is his mysterious client. A powerful weapon goes missing, and then hijinks ensue. The plot is based -- very loosely -- on the film version of The Maltese Falcon. I took a lot of liberties, especially at the end.

Thanks to @beenghosting, @karsival, and @sunbeamdean for everything!

[read it at AO3]

[relucant]

what do friends who aren’t fanfic writer trash talk about really

[seraphjimin]

Do you read fan fiction? If you do, can you give me a rec?

Anything written by my bby Ashley is TOP GRADE STUFF ok.

you can find it all here!

[xylodemon]

dean/cas fic: sleeping now to rise again (4.6k)

sleeping now to rise again; 4.6k, post-ep, angst with a hopeful ending, spoilers for 11x11.

Getting Cas back is the only thing that matters.

Dean frowns at the paper Crowley hands him. The sigil drawn on it looks a lot like a devil's trap. The signs inside the star's points are different, and a smaller, seven-sided star is fills its center. Something about it makes Dean's skin crawl.

"You sure this is gonna work?" he asks.

"Mother says it will. It's keyed to Lucifer specifically."

"Your mother got us into this mess," Dean points out. "How do you know this ain't some kind of double-cross?"

"Getting her neck snapped seems to have sorted out her priorities."

"So, what --? Now she's on your side? On mine?"

Crowley shrugs. "She's on her own side. Demons usually are. I'm sure you remember how it is." Dean bristles a little -- he'd give anything to punch Crowley in his smug face -- but Crowley just continues, "It won't hold him long, but the spell Mother worked out is short and sweet. We'll only need a few minutes."

Dean frowns at the paper again. His chest aches. "What's this gotta be drawn with?"

"You don't want to know."

"Listen, you --"

"You won't have to get your hands dirty," Crowley says. He takes the paper back and tucks it inside his suit. "Mother and I will handle the sticky bits. Just get your boyfriend's meatsuit to the church on time."

[read it at ao3]

[xylodemon]

dean/cas fic: heartstrings (2.3k)

heartstrings; 2.3k, pre-coda, angst and Lucifer, inspired by the 11x11 extended promo.

"Follow your heart," Mildred says, patting his chest. "You do that... all the rest just figures itself out."

Dean makes himself smile.

+

The spook turns out to be a guy named James who spent the last decade of his life at Shady Palms. He'd died in his sleep at the age of ninety-four, outliving all of his family except a great-granddaughter who'd moved to South Korea on one of those teach-English-abroad deals and never came back. No messy murder, no unfinished business, no enemies. The best Dean can figure is, James just hadn't wanted to leave a place he considered home. He'd stayed with his friends instead of walking into the light.

But eventually, those friends had died. They'd been replaced by faces James didn't recognize, and without a tether to his old life his spirit had gone straight off the deep end. His victims were all newcomers who'd intruded on his usual stomping grounds-- his apartment, his favorite table in the cafeteria, his favorite chair in the day room.

[read it at ao3]

[seraphjimin]

The Dream

Remember how I mentioned this morning about the insane dream I had last night?...

well, here it is. (or at least what I can still remember of it.... also, I’m not a writer and wrote this as free flow as I could so... excuse all my grammatical mistakes. )

LAYER ONE

I’m in some kind of a shopping mall combined with a convention centre.

I realize I’m wearing a beautiful dress.  It was either deep red and gold or black and gold.  I wore matching high heels that were equally as sparkling as the dress.

I’m with a friend, but It’s never clear who it is.  I feel AMAZING in my outfit and I walk with confidence.

Suddenly, I look over at a handsome, slightly bearded man.  It’s Jensen Ackles.  I get very excited.  I walk over to him.  I want to talk to him.  But, as soon as I step close enough, I’m surrounded by people who start pushing and shoving their way to get to him.  They also want his attention.  I see how impossible this will be for me and calmly give up.  I smile a shy, defeated smile at Jensen.  He looks over at me and gives me the same smile.

I continue walking around the mall.  I then notice a great hall in front of me is full of important looking people.  I go into the hall.  I realize this is the Golden Globes.  I’m strangely comfortable being in the middle of this celebrity-filled environment.  I make my way through the audience to a seat near the back of the hall.  Some celebs greet me like old friends along the way.  They nod, say how amazing I look, ask me how my family is doing.  Some even hug me warmly.

For some reason, whenever I see actor Tracy Morgan in dreams, there is a familiar feeling like every time we are in this situation we dislike each other.  He makes his usual snide comment and I tell him to fuck off.

When I get to my seat, Adam Sandler makes more rude comments at me.  This time when I tell him off, the House Lights pan over to us.  As I tell him “where to stuff it”, the audience laugh and applaud as if it’s the most awesome and hilarious thing they’d ever seen.

I am suddenly at my house.  Well, it’s an old house we lived in years ago.  It was a beautiful condo in the Southwest of Calgary.  It had dark chocolate brown walls that I loved.

When I go into the kitchen, I see that my table is surrounded by A-list people.  I remember Gwen Paltrow, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Bill Murray, Johnny Depp (who I hugged!), and others who are too vague and blurry for me to clearly remember now.

Jensen was there as well.  He was freshly smooth-faced, which confused me because they usually do that at the start of a new season of the show.  This felt off season.

As we all sat and ate our meal, I dazzled them with my wit and humour. When everybody was comfy and enjoying desserts, Jensen and I quietly slipped away and headed outside.  He insisted he hold my hand as we walked.  I felt guilty about it for some reason.  We headed towards a large, impeccably manicured football field. This field never actually existed, but that didn’t stop me from explaining to Jensen that we paid high condo fees so that we could have nice things like this.  We stood and admired the field as the sun was setting.  Then we walked back to the house.

The guests were slowly leaving and saying their goodbyes. We agreed to meet again soon for another meal.

As I’m washing dishes and cleaning up, a woman comes into my house.  She’s angry and yelling that this is now her home.  She tells me to get out.  When I say that it’s MY house, she starts to beat me.  I feel the violence.  I try to defend myself as best as I can, but I’m getting so hurt.

I’m laying on the floor, looking up at the woman.  She’s getting ready for he Final Blow.

As it comes down on me, I reach my bloody hand up and shout

“ DON’T!!!!!!!!!”

LAYER TWO

As soon as my hand goes up, my eyes start to go blurry then slowly clear.

All at once, I realize all of that was just a dream.

Now comes something that happens to me more and more often.  I get an overwhelming feeling of “nostalgia” .. of remembering things that never happened outside of dreaming.. but in the moment, it makes perfect sense!

So, as my eyes clear, I’m reminded that I had been sedated and put to sleep by nurses. OF COURSE! HOW STUPID OF ME!

I’m in some kind of clinic.  I feel sheepish at my manic outburst, but am calmed by the nurses.

My throat hurts...

The nurse says of course it hurts!  That’s a normal thing.

While I was under sedation, they had put a long, plastic tube down into my throat.  Deep down into the depths of me.  It’s held in place by tape.  Strangely, a long piece of this tube is sticking out of my mouth and is closed off at its end by a cap or a clip.

When I sit up in the bed, the tube is filled up with blood! I start to panic.

The nurses soothe me and tell me to just relax and lay my head back so the blood doesn’t fill the tube and leak out.

I try but I keep panicking.  The tube fills with blood and shoots out of it and all over a sleeping patient in the next bed.

I feel embarrassed.  I look around me and now I’m in a waiting room filled with other people with the same tubes sticking out of them.  They are all very calm though.  They read magazines and wait.  I still don’t know what we were all waiting for..

I ask one lady how long she’d been waiting and she tells me “ 2 Hours.”  This made me less scared somehow.

I start to choke again and am shaking and gagging.

they finally pull out the tube.  It hurts.  It’s traumatic.  I feel abused.

I go home.  This time, it’s my current house.

(slightly nsfw stuff ahead... )

I come into my house and say hi to my roommate, Jan.  I go into my bedroom and change out of my bloody clothes and into pajamas.

As I’m relaxing on my bed, Jan comes into my room and we embrace.  It’s very gentle at first.  I remember looking down and seeing my hands cradling his head and feeling like this was a precious moment. Like a treasure.

We begin to have sex.  Which surprised me, because as I’ve mentioned before, Jan is one of those “beautiful people”.  They are mysterious, magical, untouchable to me. Like a unicorn.

I felt triumphant as we went about our activities.  We did a lot of different things!

But, Jan never made any sound as we went... he seemed so calm, but still like he was enjoying this very much.  I on the other hand, made quite a bit of noise.  And was enjoying this all very much.

Time passes, days. Each Day, I come home and we have sex.  It’s like we needed each other so badly and waited till we could be together.  It felt very natural, like “this is how it should be. “

All of a sudden, he’s gone.

A wave of loss washes over me.  Another ending was near.

LAYER THREE  aka “The B-Movie Nightmare”

As soon as the wave comes, my eyes clear again and I’m suddenly standing outside of a bathroom.

I am desperate for a shower.  I go in, but the room is full of people already using the facilities.  I felt so annoyed!  I spend a long time trying to sneak around this nondescript place to other bathrooms but they are all full of selfish people. How rude!

I start to yell at the people and push them out so I could shower.  I finally manage to get them all out and have my blessed shower. So refreshing!

When I towel off and leave the bathroom, I’m struck with horror.

All around me are bodies.  Scattered around this house, in every room.  The air feels dusty.  It’s all coloured in an eerie blue.

I slowly walk between the bodies... they are dead.. frozen in some unspoken horror that I had escaped.

I find the bedroom and get dressed.  It’s so silent.  I’m very scared. I remember having to lift one of the dead bodies on the bed so that I could reach under him and grab my little wallet.  I made sure all my ID and bank cards were still in it.

A group of people run into the house and immediately I know that these are the “Hero’s” .  They had swords with them.  Samurai swords.  I grabbed one of my own.  It was long, curved, and very sharp.  I felt powerful.

We slowly made our way through the house, slashing down any undead that we came upon.  I cut down a few myself.

We reach a very dark room.  In the centre of the room, there is a group of people sitting around in a circle.  They wear white robes like monks.  There are candles illuminating the scene.

At first, I found them so strong, wise, and brave. It felt like we had found our “Saviors.”

But, as I got closer to them, I saw that their eyes were open and terrified.  Staring out into nothing.  They were quietly chanting something I couldn’t hear.

I asked the leader of this group of chanters what had happened to all the people outside.  What had killed them?

She said, “They had to keep only one thought in their minds.  If they slipped into any other thoughts, they were instantly killed.”  All the people I had seen were the ones who never made it out of whatever this horror was that had taken over.  I understood then that the group of chanters were merely people trapped in a desperate attempt to keep a single thought in their minds.  They were trapped in a doomed state of survival.  It all seemed so futile.

But, I gave it my best shot and focused on one thought.

For whatever reason, my single though was “ I loved him. “

I started to repeat this phrase over and over in my head as I walked out of the building.

My little group of Hero’s made our way through a desolate town and across a grassy field.

We saw an abandoned saloon.  It looked like some kind of tacky theme bar that had long lost its’ appeal.

We walked into it and found it was empty of all furniture and debris.   Except for one room.

In that room, there was a bizarre sight.  There was a small stage.  On the stage were about 4 human-sized animatronic people.  They wore Old West style outfits befitting the saloon.

I stood in front of the stage and the show began.

They started to move in jerky, puppet-like movements.  They were singing a song to me.  I couldn’t understand what they sang, but knew they were trying to warn me about something.  One of the puppets pointed a finger out into the distance.  It had a message to give me.

Alas, what that message was .. was lost on me.  I couldn’t hear it.

My band of Hero’s left the saloon and were walking over a wide meadow, when we saw something that made us stop in our tracks.

Moving over a distant hill, was an enormous number of people running.  Too many to even comprehend... to me, it seemed like it was ALL PEOPLE.  The entire world was running away from something.  Running towards us.

They started rushing past us.  They were screaming in terror.  I didn’t know what to do.  Then I saw it.

Coming up from the horizon, were giants.  One of the giants was riding an equally massive reptile creature.  Beside them was a huge, armored turtle monster.  The creature felt like our doom.

Still, at the same time, I was actually rather amused.. I could see the hilarity of the creatures even though they were terrifying.  I leaned over to one of my comrades and said, “ Jesus Christ look at that B-Movie bullshit!.”

A small, amused smile emerged on my lips as I watched the fleeing masses.

I clutched my sword in my hand and burst forward in a run towards it all and-

Then I awoke.

[xylodemon]

i need this; nsfw, felching, mild comeplay, overstimulation, bottom dean]

--

Cas fucks into Dean steady and slow, his hands vise-tight at Dean's hips and his mouth open and wet at the side of Dean's neck. He murmurs Dean's name. Dean moans and arches up into him, trying to get more, trying to keep Cas inside him. He curls his toes in the scratchy, motel sheets. The headboard bangs against the wall like a drum.

They rarely get the chance to take their time these days. Amara is an adult now, the same dark-eyed woman Dean had met in a gritty cloud of dust and ash, and she trails destruction behind her wherever she goes -- sometimes soulless people, sometimes pockets of monster activity, usually both. They've been on the road nearly every day for the last three months, driving twelve or fourteen hours at a time and crashing in crappy motels, often sharing with Sam. Dean loves Cas with everything he has -- he loves falling asleep beside him, loves jacking him in the shower and sucking him off in the back seat of the Impala -- but he's missed this. He's missed feeling stretched open and full. He's missed the soft, awed look that crosses Cas' face when he's buried inside Dean to the hilt.

Cas murmurs Dean's name again, his lips fluttering against Dean's skin. He kisses Dean's neck and the corner of Dean's jaw, then leans up to sit back on his knees, pulling Dean's ass into his lap. It opens Dean up, his legs spread out over Cas' thighs. Heat burns in Dean's cheeks, but he just digs his heel into Cas' ass and arches into Cas again. Cas likes to fuck him like this because Cas likes to watch. He likes seeing himself sink into Dean's body. He likes seeing Dean take him in.

Dean's phone buzzes on the nightstand, but Dean just pulls Cas closer, clutching at Cas' shoulders and raking his nails down Cas' arms. Arousal is curled around the base of his spine like a snake; when Cas flirts with his dick, running his knuckles up the length of it and skimming his palm over the head, Dean shakes and whines out a noise behind his teeth.

"Are you close?" Cas asks.

"Yeah. I -- yeah."

Cas' eyes are wide and dark. He teases Dean's rim with his thumb, then with the tip of his finger, nudging a little, and -- oh, fuck. Anticipation hammers in Dean's chest, dangerous and fever-bright. Once, Cas worked two fingers into Dean's ass alongside his dick; Dean had come so hard he'd blacked out, and he'd spent the next three days almost constantly half-hard, heat sparking deep in his gut every time he thought about it, every time he moved and felt the slow, sweet ache Cas had left behind.

"Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean says, his voice catching in his throat. He can't really meet Cas' thrusts in this postition, so he slides his hand up Cas' chest and digs his heel into Cas' ass again. "Do it."

Cas leans down for a kiss, curling his hand at the back of Dean's neck, tugging Dean up into it in a way that nearly folds Dean in half. It lets him fuck into Dean deep, his dick brushing Dean's prostate just right, and Dean pants into the kiss, fisting his hands in the sheets as Cas nips his lips and sucks on his tongue. The headboard rattles against the wall again and again and again. Cas eases back with a sigh and fumbles for the lube.

He runs his wet finger around Dean's rim, then nudges it in and in and in. Dean sucks in a breath and turns his hot face into the pillow. Fuck, fuck. Sweat is beading at his hairline and pooling at the dip of his throat. Cas eases out and inches back in, falling into a slow, careful rhythm, his thighs shaking as he fucks and fingers Dean together. He brushes Dean's prostate again, and Dean clenches around him, his blood rushing in his ears.

Cas chokes out Dean's name. His eyes flash angel-blue, and then he's coming, hot pulses Dean can feel, and -- fuck. Fuck. He's so close, teetering on the edge of a knife. Cas pushes two more fingers into him as his dick slips out, twisting all three together and working them against Dean's prostate. He wraps his other hand around Dean's dick, huge and sweaty and perfect.

"You're incredible," Cas tells him, stroking him hard. "You should see yourself. You --"

Dean comes, gasping out a low, needy noise, his dick throbbing as it paints his belly and chest. Cas smears his hand through the mess, then licks it off his palm, then leans down and kisses Dean's mouth, slow and lush and deep. His fingers shift in Dean's ass, barely a tease, but Dean shudders out a moan. He can taste himself on Cas' tongue. His dick aches as it tries desperately to fill again.

Cas drags a slow, wet kiss down the line of Dean's jaw, then noses under Dean's chin and nips his way down to the hollow of Dean's throat. He sucks a mark there, his stubble a soft rasp of heat against Dean's skin. Dean starts to pull Cas closer, wrapping his arm around Cas' back and threading a hand into Cas' hair, but Cas shifts down Dean's body, making the bed creak in complaint. He fucks his fingers into Dean again -- another barely-there tease -- then gently slips them out. He brushes a kiss over Dean's spent dick, then shoulders in between Dean's thighs and presses his mouth to Dean's hole.

"Cas, you -- Jesus."

Dean nearly squirms away -- it's too much too soon, and he knows he's a sloppy, fucked-out mess down there, he can feel it -- but Cas just hums into him, hooking his arms under Dean's ass and bringing Dean closer to his mouth. He laves Dean's hole with his tongue, and he curls his tongue up and in, pausing whenever Dean starts to shake to bite the insides of Dean's thighs and trail kisses over Dean's balls. It feels impossibly, impossibly good, everything soft and warm and slick. The air in the room is sex-humid, thick enough to chew; the only thing Dean can hear is the sound of Cas' mouth, filthy-wet and obscene.

Cas finally pulls away, sucking another mark into the crease of Dean's thigh before easing back and sitting up on his knees. He's hard again; Dean catches a glimpse of his flushed, curving dick as Cas hooks a hand under his ass and rolls him onto his belly. Cas teases his cleft with his fingers, then spreads him open dives back in, all soft lips and wet flutters of tongue. He slides a hand between Dean's legs, cupping Dean's dick. Dean hisses and claws at the sheets, but when Cas asks, "Yes?" Dean heaves out a breath and nods into the pillow.

"Yeah."

A quick burst of grace and Dean dick is filling in Cas' palm. His whole body throbs with it, heat sparking under his skin. A thin, helpless noise builds in his throat, spilling out before he can swallow it. His eyes sting.

"Are you sure?" Cas asks, his voice soft.

"Yeah. C'mon."

Gently, Cas tugs Dean up by the hips. He rubs himself against the swell of Dean's ass a few times; the head of his dick tags against Dean's hole and Dean moans, long and low.

"Dean, is it too much?"

It is too much -- Dean is trembling all over, can hardly breathe -- but he wants it. Fuck, he wants it.

"No. I need this. Need you."

Cas slides home with a beautiful sigh.