ishouldhaveknownbetterdammit

[ishouldhaveknownbetterdammit]

Howl Pendragon from Howls moving castle 🍃🔥

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“HE’S A STRONG INDEPENDENT ANGEL WHO DON’T NEED NO LORD” 

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I honestly believe the whole “adults require less sleep” thing is honest to god probably a myth created by capitalism

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I see so many authors bagging on themselves like “why can’t I ever finish anything, I’m a terrible artist and a terrible writer”, and what I want to say based on my professional assessment of their work and where it tends to fall apart is “your art and writing are fine, your real problem is that you’re a shitty project manager” – but of course you can’t actually say that, because while it’s true, it’s almost never helpful to tell someone out of the blue that their real issue is that they entirely lack a critical skill-set they didn’t even know existed.

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New idea

We use the “thanks I stole them from the president” for ANY compliment we get on the street, just to confuse the mortals

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someone: *mentions my favorite character*

me: *vibrating at frequency that shatters glass* yeah I love them a normal amount

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writers:

break up your paragraphs. big paragraphs are scary, your readers will get scared

fuuuuck epithets. “the other man got up” “the taller woman sat down” “the blonde walked away” nahhh. call them by their names or rework the sentence. you can do so much better than this (exception: if the reader doesn’t know the character(s) you’re referring to yet, it’s a-okay to refer to them by an identifying trait)

blunette is not a thing

new speaker, new paragraph. please.

“said” is such a great word. use it. make sweet love to it. but don’t kill it

use “said” more than you use synonyms for it. that way the use of synonyms gets more exciting. getting a sudden description of how a character is saying something (screaming, mumbling, sighing) is more interesting that way.

if your summary says “I suck at summaries” or “story better than summary” you’re turning off the reader, my dude. your summary is supposed to be your hook. you gotta own it, just like you’re gonna own the story they’re about to read

follow long sentences w short ones and short ones w long ones. same goes for paragraphs

your writing is always better than you think it is. you just think it’s bad because the story’s always gonna be predicable to the one who’s writing it

i love u guys keep on trucking

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Once Dean and Cas get together, they kiss as much as they can.

Dean might walk past Cas in the library, watching how the angel is trying to pick a book, and Dean will tap on Castiel’s right shoulder, saying “Hey, Cas.” And when Cas turns to look at him, Dean will kiss him, briefly, before walking off.

Castiel will make coffee in the morning and he will kiss Dean everywhere while the hunter makes breakfast, only kissing him in the lips when there’s no food in risk of being burnt.

They might be shopping together in the grocery store and Dean will kiss Castiel every time the angel gets a pecan pie in the cart.

Castiel might find Dean sitting somewhere and he will kiss him before joining him by his side.

Castiel might do something adorable, or cute, or dorky or just something that Dean considers so Cas that Dean will kiss him with a big smile on his lips.

Dean might be humming some of his favorite songs while he drives and Castiel will grab Dean’s right hand and kiss his palm, making Dean blush.

They might be stuck on a case and Dean will kiss Cas on his hairline while they’re both looking for something in the lore.

Dean might ramble on something he is really passionate about and Castiel will smile at him and kiss him, happy about Dean’s enthusiasm.

Of course they also kiss in the most important moments, but those little moments are also really special; they make up for all those years they spent secretly (or not so secretly) pining for each other, for all those little moments when they wanted to kiss each other but they couldn’t.

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the thing about crowley is that he’s had 6000 years to think up the best one-liners to use on aziraphale. make him go wobbly-kneed with passion? he’s got it. make him blush in front of customers? he’s got it. tease him? get him hot under the collar? crowley’s got it. make him laugh? crowley’s got hundreds. 

make him understand? make him certain, make him sure, make him realise how long and how deep and how wholly he’s loved? how completely he’s wanted? how entirely he’s needed? crowley has these lines too. he’s less sure of how effective they’ll be, but there’ll be words, someday, for him to say. things he wants to tell aziraphale, as soon as aziraphale is ready to hear him. things he wants aziraphale to know, not because he wants to make a point but only because aziraphale deserves to know everything there is to know about love. 

he waits for aziraphale to ask for these; he waits for aziraphale to want them too. aziraphale’s choice, always–aziraphale has had so few, with heaven breathing down his neck. crowley wants to stand at aziraphale’s side, not push or prod him forward. he’s waited a long time already. he can wait a little while more.

besides, he thinks, looking at aziraphale from across a table at the ritz, watching his eyes light up, watching his hand twitch toward crowley’s–he doesn’t think he’ll have to wait much longer. 

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so if in the soulmate au the very first words your soulmate ever says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body since the day you are born imagine having something like ‘man I cant believe dumbledore died’ tattooed on you. imagine being spoiled for a book series that doesnt even exist yet. imagine worrying about this dumbledore guy your whole childhood while not knowing who he is. imagine knowing dumbledore dies before jk rowling even thinks about it.

[ishouldhaveknownbetterdammit]

Ow. My heart...

King of the Crossroads

When Dean returned from Hell, he thought it was all over. The demons, the deals. He vowed to never dig at a crossroads again.

Then Jo and Ellen died.

He marched himself down to the crossroads and dug, buried the stupid box in the stupid hole, and turned to face a stupid face.

“Dean-”

“Don’t give me that shit, Crowley! They just died! They fucking died and-… and…”

Dean was shaking and tears were falling down his cheeks. Crowley huffed in irritation and held him awkwardly as Dean’s crying subsided.

“Let me make a deal,” Dean whispered.

“No,” Crowley whispered back.

—

Sam was dead.

Heh. “Dead.”

If only that’s all it was.

Dean had screamed at the crossroads night after night until, finally, Crowley appeared, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley bitched. “You’re driving all of us insane! Can’t you take the hint?”

“Me for him. Immediately. I ain’t asking for time. I-… I’m asking for my brother.”

Crowley sighed. “As tempting as those lips might be, boy, the answer is no.”

Dean stared at him, his face slowly falling as he realized the truth. Sammy was gone, and there was nothing he could do.

“Fuck,” Crowley muttered, taking a step forward to catch Dean as he fell to his knees. Crowley rolled his eyes and rubbed Dean’s back until the shaking had subsided.

—

Castiel walked into that damn river.

“Dean, really. We have to quit meeting like this.”

Dean’s hands were in his pockets. His head was down.

“Can you bring him back?” Dean asked softly.

“I won’t make a deal with you, Dean.”

This time, Dean closed the gap, resting his forehead against Crowley’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

“Can you just kill me now and get this over with, then?”

Crowley sighed and held Dean close. “Afraid not.”

—

Dean was throwing shit this time.

Every item in the damn box.

He was throwing it at Crowley, face red, tears streaming, voice hoarse.

“He was my father! Why can’t you just take me instead?!”

Crowley ducked under a bone. “Believe me, Squirrel. We were both fond of dear old Bobby. My answer, however, is still no.”

“Fuck you!”

Crowley sighed and pulled Dean in, holding him easily despite his punching and kicking. “Calm down, love. You’re going to tear my suit.”

Dean’s struggles subsided. He muttered, “Fuck your suit,” without any real bite behind the words.

—

Dean blinked blearily in surprise.

“Beat you here this time. I’m sensing a trend.”

“Charlie…”

“Yes. Charlie. You seem very intent upon sacrificing yourself for the people you love, you know. It’s somewhat of a character flaw.”

Dean just looked at him through red-rimmed eyes. “Please?”

“You already know my answer, darling.” Crowley held out his arms, and Dean stumbled into them, hiding his face in Crowley’s shoulder.

—

Dean patted the dirt back onto the box and laid down, curled into the fetal position. The night wind blew his hair, and he shivered. Crickets chirped, someone honked a horn very far away, and the stars twinkled.

No one showed up.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget what had happened.

It didn’t work.

“C'mon,” Dean whispered. “Show up. You gotta show up. You always-…” His voice drifted off, breath shuddering.

Sam found him in the morning, ushering him into the car.

“We’ll get Crowley back,” Sam whispered. “And Cas, too. We always do.”

[ishouldhaveknownbetterdammit]

MUSICAL NOTATION, AS DESCRIBED BY CATS

(I would have liked to crop some of these gifs (like the accent ones) to make them more accurate but alas, I lack the skills.)

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crowley looking up and seeing aziraphale guarding the eastern gate

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