shallowstories

[shallowstories]

and the empty longs for angels, not just as a matter of course, but secretly, subconsciously longing to receive one bright enough to throw it into motion to generate into a new universe

“First, the most primordial state of the universe is described as hundun. In this original state, there was no heaven and earth, no light and no forms, only undifferentiated oneness.”

— Yinyang: The Way of Heaven and Earth in Chinese Thought and Culture (New Approaches to Asian History Book 11) by Robin R. Wang

https://a.co/7Jf6W6U

///

the empty made its very first error when it gained form. it angered cas

enough for cas to get up in its face and threaten an eternity of fighting against a state of rest

so it casts cas out.

///

when it still could not sleep, it sought heaven and jack; and it committed a second mistake: motion

and chasing cas’s son, it began a chain of events that shattered the stillness and rest of the empty forever

that’s another psychosexual reason it takes on the form of meg; all dark with a little bit light, like all bad with a little bit good, or all stillness with a little bit motion

it coos to jack that “at least Hell is something,” failing to realize that it has already, tragically become a something, too

the empty is like a pangu

According to the myth, in the beginning, the universe was like an egg in a condition of chaos and indistinctness, called hundun渾沌 (chaos); this cosmic egg did not take any shape or form.

The hero Pangu was born and slept in its middle where, after 800,000 years, he woke up and faced utter darkness. He decided to open up this hundun to let in light, so he made a break across the hundun.

When Pangu grew one zhang 丈 (around ten feet), heaven also expanded one zhang higher, and the earth descended one zhang lower, a process that continued for another 800,000 years.

Eventually, Pangu could grow no more and died, however, by then heaven had reached its highest stage, and earth had attained its deepest level. Pangu’s body then transformed into the myriad things: his breath became wind and clouds, his voice became thunder, his left eye was the sun, and right eye was the moon.

His four limbs and five body parts became the four directions and five mountains. His blood became rivers and oceans, his nerves the earthly lines, his muscles the soil, his hair the stars, his skin the grass and plants, his teeth and bones the stones, and his sweat the rain.”

— Yinyang: The Way of Heaven and Earth in Chinese Thought and Culture (New Approaches to Asian History Book 11) by Robin R. Wang

https://a.co/hAPAvaV

///

when it became meg, it’s a tiny Hell longing to become an earth

When Pangu opened hundun, one part became heaven, and the other part became earth, bringing with them light and dark as well as the distinction between.

that’s why the idea of having cas willingly is so enticing, even though cas is already promised to it

the empty is active

[shallowstories]

Sam whirls, panicked, "Is he gone? Are we back?"

Jack grits his teeth, trying to wrest control of the worlds. The trickster keeps pushing in, enfolding dimensional walls like a kaleidoscope, dissolving whatever protection Jack throws up. "No."

The streetlamp flickers.

Sam's voice floats across the street, tinged with an irritating whine, "Then what are you waiting for? Get us out of--!"

"Hey," Dean cuts him off. "He's tryin' to concentrate."

The road is dimly lit--asphalt shiny and threateningly wet. Jack can't tell if it's slick with rain or blood. He squints against the bright flare of the closest streetlamp. It flashes at bizarre intervals, spotlighting them where they stand.

Their surrounding looks vaguely familiar, like it's a something Jack's seen on TV but can't place. He concentrates on teleporting away, reaching for Naphil powers that don't come.

"I think we're in another one of his worlds," Dean whispers, shivering. "You hear something? I do, but I don't see nothin."

Jack's clothes start to change, phasing in and out, similar to the way Gabriel had done it earlier. He feels his fed threads melting away into something tight and red.

Dean laughs. "Nice digs there, Jackson. Is it close to midnight?"

Jack looks down. Red leather outfit with jutting shoulder pads. Black leather dancing shoes.

Wait. He knows this.

Oh, fuck.

"Graveyard, three o'clock," Sam reports, and fogs rolls over them like a special effect. "Dean? That, uh, it looks like a crowd of zombies. Are you seeing this? Dean. Dean! Hey, Keith, are you gonna--"

Jack almost says, "I don't remember you being this annoying," but he reels it in at the last second. Instead he huffs, "We see it, Sam!"

The grin Dean sports is half-excited, half-terrified. "Holy crap, I think he put us in the goddamned music video for Thriller."

"No," Jack moans, so ashamed. "This is mine."

Dean spins. "Yours?"

"I--I can't control it. I don't know--"

Sam shrieks as the zombies drift closer, swaying like they're slaves to the wind. The Thriller music starts up, just a whisper in the background at first. "What do we do now?"

"Same thing we've been doing this whole time," Dean barks, and the music starts getting louder. "We play to it. Fighting it zaps away your powers...right, Kid?"

Jack swallows. Technically-- "Yeah. Fighting it is fighting me."

Sam looks more horrified at the prospect of dancing than he had at performing surgery as a doctor stand-in. The zombies surround them and leer even closer.

Dean prepares to march forward, clothes getting rattier by the second, just like the dancers in Thriller. "Okay then."

[shallowstories]

plotting my new fic is going swimmingly in case anyone is wondering

[shallowstories]

Who Framed Sam Winchester?

By queerwerewolf | @queerwolf79 Art by anyrei | @anyreiart

Coming to Ao3 on 12/27/2024

Rated Explicit | 29,180 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Down-on-his-luck private eye Cas Novak gets hired by Angelic Studios president, Nick Vaught, to investigate a scandal involving an infamous literary character (Lit), Dean Winchester, and Vaught’s primary nemesis, Fergus Crowley. A devilish producer and prop designer who has his hands in every movie studio in Los Angeles. Crowley’s prop factory shares a wall with Lit Town, and worse yet, he owns the contract for every Lit. Every contract, that is, except for brothers Sam and Dean Winchester from the Supernatural book series. When Crowley is found murdered, Sam Winchester becomes the primary suspect and goes on the run. The villainous Judge Edlund vows to catch and destroy Sam, having discovered a means of killing Lits with a substance known only as “Pulp”. Desperate to prove his brother’s innocence, Dean demands Cas help him find his brother before the Judge does. Despite vowing to never work with another Lit after his twin brother's murder, Cas agrees. With a contentious start to their working relationship, Dean Winchester and Cas Novak begin to uncover an ever growing nefarious plot. Can Cas and Dean put a stop to this evil ploy? And more importantly, will their attraction to each other get in the way of saving the day?

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

“Cigars? Cigarettes?”

When I turned, it was to come face to face with Dorian Gray. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t aged a day in about a decade or so. Now whether that was because he was a Lit, or that damned portrait… His cobalt blue eyes rivaled my own, although, if I’m honest, his were always prettier. His curly blonde hair was coifed in a pompadour and his scarlet lips were curled in a hungry smile. He was dressed in a form-fitting pair of charcoal pants and an even tighter black t-shirt that left little to the queer imagination, carrying a tray of different smokes.

“Dorian, what are you doing here?”

With a wistful, overly dramatic sigh, Dorian pouted his plush lips and said, “Work’s been slow for those of us with a little more… culture.” Which meant with how many contemporary novels were capturing the attention of audiences, any Lits from the 19th century or earlier had to get creative to make a living. This suited Dorian, considering his nature. “But I’m still exquisitely tragic.”

With a soft laugh, I nodded, reveling in his beauty for a moment, although I was far too old for him now. “Yeah, you are.”

The lights started to dim and a spotlight shined on the closed curtains. I caught Crowley in my peripheral vision, straightening his tie and sitting upright. He even pulled out a small bottle of cologne, spraying it against his neck. It reeked of licorice and cloves, the breath of a child that got into his father’s cigarette case.

I turned to Dorian with a bemused expression. “What’s with him?”

Dorian smoothed out a nonexistent wrinkle on his pants with a shrug. “Oh, Mr. Crowley never misses a night when Dean performs.”

“Got a thing for Lits, huh?”

At that, Dorian gave me a pointed look. “If I recall, you did as well at one point.”

I cleared my throat and grabbed my drink, gulping down half of it at the implication, feeling a warmth at the memories that comment conjured. The crowd grew silent and the band could be heard from the pit, warming up their instruments. Then a familiar intro began, an infamously upbeat Cole Porter song that had been slowed down from a jazzy little jaunt to something sedated, steady, and sentimental. Just as a soft beat began, the curtains jostled and a leg popped out, bent at the knee in skin tight purple pants.

“We’re all alone… No chaperone… Can get our number… the world’s in slumber… ” A sultry, deep voice sang in a pleasant register, masterfully turning jazz to a ballad. The curtains parted and revealed one of the most breathtaking creatures I had ever seen in my life.

“Let’s misbehave…”

[shallowstories]

My heart seems to be doing better and better, so I'm gonna ease into trying to restart last year's hobby. (Writing!)

❤️❤️❤️❤️

FIC WRITING GOALS (from the poll/WIP game, in terms of votes:)

⭐ For your crimes against the most high - Chuck tries to convince Dean that Cas was his self-insert; alt 15x19 Chuck Vs TFW + Michael = 20 minutes ⭐⭐Hopeless romantic - Harper & Jack road fic; Jack tries to break the empty deal by tapping into necromancy & divination = 40 minutes ⭐⭐⭐⭐The truth within despair - Dean misremembers the 15x18 confession = 110 minutes ⭐⭐⭐If wishes were horses - Lebanon AU/John lives = 70 minutes ⭐⭐⭐The golden calf - Jack in season 1 time travel fic = 70 minutes ⭐⭐Mary meta = 30 minutes Other misc stuff - Dean/Cas early intimacy/season 5 FTBYAM fic (Blackout on the eastern seaboard); Claire becomes Chuck's newest fixation (Wayward on main street); Gabriel and Lucifer stay in the bunker after Exodus (It takes a village); season 5 TFW meets season 15 TFW (Myrkviðr "The boy-king, the stag, and the widower"); putting oneshots on Ao3, etc.

P.S. If you were around last year, I started writing in September, and then by November my liver was failing, and by January my heart was failing! (Which was the thing stressing my liver, as it turns out.) What a wild ride!

Anyway, I've not deleted any of the things, but there are some hidden due to reorganizing and rewriting/renaming chapters going on. It was blocking meeeee.

For this month, I'm gonna focus on getting everything together in one place on my laptop. (Most of the writing from last year was done on the toilet-to-phone pipeline, and that phone is very much inactivated-but-charging, so I can get stuff off it this weekend.)

Other stuff I'm looking for:

Tiny cheerleading communities or other inexperienced writers

Beta, grammar, and proofreading resources

I'm already reading a book about editing (The Artful Edit by Susan Bell) but other suggestions are welcome

[shallowstories]

Read now on AO3!

The unforgiving waves pushed him further under, arms and legs flailing wildly. In his panic, he made the mistake of trying to breathe. To scream. All it got him was a mouthful of water and a burning in his lungs.

DeanCas HorrorFest presents:

A Word in the Mists

Author: Hiding Amaranth Artist: lamiasage Rating: M Word Count: 23,968 Tags&Warnings: Canon-Adjacent AU, Ship at Sea setting, Case Fic, Monster Hunt, Mystery, Suspense, pre-relationship Dean/Castiel, Dean & Jo, Isolated from the Outside World, Castiel and Dean Save Each Other, Sarcasm, Angst, Canon-Level Depictions of Blood and Violence, Minor Character Deaths (not TFW), Brief Hints of Suicidal Thoughts, Fear of Drowning

Summary: Mist as far as the eye can see. A gloomy ocean that seems to swallow up the sunlight like broken dreams. An old, rusty ship that creaks with every inch of movement. And a crew that could compete in an award for grumpiest people alive.

Dean really hates pretty much everything about this case, and would love nothing more than to call it quits and turn this ship around—if there wasn't the little issue of the disappearance of thousands of people across ten different ships on the open sea.

Saving lives is what he does… though he has to question if he isn't doing more harm than good when the disappearances begin on his own ship—and he still hasn't even figured out what kind of monster they're dealing with.

Preview: Nothingness devoured the horizon. Dean glanced back over his shoulder, but the wafts of mist were too thick to see anything beyond the ship's railing. A chill crept over his skin at the realization that he couldn't even make out the other end of the ship itself. The chain of friendly, orange lights hung across the deck didn't stand a chance, its brightness swallowed up effortlessly by the blanket of fog. It was a mirror to the way this blasted mission seemed to soak all happiness out of him.

Maybe coming up here had been a mistake. He'd hoped the fresh air would help him clear his head—that it could ease some of the tension that had stubbornly settled in his shoulders ever since he'd set foot on the Fate's Whisper. Instead, all he'd achieved by stepping out on the deck was that the tight knot of worry somewhere deep in his chest solidified.

Link to Fic Link to Art

The Apocalypse is nigh, and the Prophecy is false.

Taglist: @deancashorrorfest @lamiasage @samsrowena @suninjang @typicalrowena @jomybeloved @butch--dean @thefandomsinhalor

[shallowstories]

Watching my first watch through of SPN ever. I’m on season 9 and as someone who has been on tumblr since ancient times but didn’t actually get in to it, I think everyone DOWNPLAYED how crazy Destiel is. How did veterans survive that….. It’s just. What. What am I watching. Why does Deans voice get SOFT when he talks to Cas particularly??? Why did Dean ditch Sam to watch Cas at the supermarket???? I think because of the meme I was convinced it was cas who was the one obviously in love but. No. It’s Dean. And it’s embarrassing for him. This is crazy but Destiel fans weren’t crazy y’all were on to something all this time…..

[shallowstories]

late season cas and stanford era dean call that a finger blast from the past happy friday

[shallowstories]

fic set during s5 where dean prays to cas because he’s going a little crazy, alright, with everything that’s going on and at least cas doesn’t give him those looks that sam and bobby have been giving him lately, the ones that say are you really up for this, really, something happened to you in hell, didn’t it, and are you sure you can shoulder this? because dean is tired of that shit. course he’ll shoulder any burden that comes his way. that’s what he does, that’s what he’s for. but anyway for some reason he has a direct line to this nerdy angel who’s bigger than his body and all sizzling electricity and also a lot of adjectives dudes don’t use to describe other dudes. it’s not like anyone has to know.

anyway this angel sits next to him on the ratty old bed, they’re leaning against the squeaky, metal headboard and they have to kind of press up against each other to fit, and there’s no reason for him to be here, absolutely none at all, but dean….. yeah, dean is currently showing him his ivory grip colt. “dad let me pick her out when i was 17”, he says, voice scratchy, aiming for casual. he turns the gun over and over in his hands. pretty. lethal.

“oh”, cas says. “i guess i feel a… kinship of sorts with my blade, too. we’ve been through much together.” it slides out of his sleeve, smoothly. wordlessly they trade weapons and dean ain’t even… ain’t even worried about the fact that this supernatural being holds his gun carefully in his hands. dean wonders if he always touches things so gently. he shivers and wonders if the touch which left a handprint behind was of a gentle nature, too. outside, the sun is about to rise. he hasn’t slept. there’s a shoulder next to his and dean could rest his head on it if he wanted to.

he wants to.

[shallowstories]

Writing tool for your fight scenes.

[shallowstories]

Ficlet: The Castiel that Dean sees before him is a cold, dark statue

It's antithetical to everything Cas stood for

Jack's achingly patient and oh-so-sincere the way he pins Dean in place with a chilling stare. "You have to understand. No interference means no interference, Dean."

"B-but. Cas!"

The Cas doesn't even flinch. He's military straight. Chin up. Idling like an engine waiting to rev.

"He won't remember you."

"No..."

"If it brings you comfort, Dean. He...he doesn't remember me either."

There's no comfort in that.

Jack turns away, unbothered by Dean's presence. Distant. Dismissive.

"You can't stay here. And we have a mission."

"You and Cas have a mission."

"Yes."

"And what's that?"

"It doesn't concern you. You only get one life, and yours is over. It's time to rest, Dean."

"And what about Cas?"

Jack stares, uncomprehending. "?"

"He just gets chained to this? He keeps on working forever and ever?"

A flinch. It's the first flicker of Jack Kline Dean's seen.

"I'm chained to this, too."

Dean looks away.

"And besides, it's not forever. It's just until we end. Then, Castiel and I will go to The Empty. Together."

"Oh."

That hurts.

"That's the way of it. There will be order. There will be peace."

"That's not--"

"You shouldn't waste this. Dean. I told you once. You need to accept your life. Your whole life, even how it ended. Let that fire go out."

[shallowstories]

sextant

instrument for determining the angle between the horizon and a celestial body, used in celestial navigation to determine latitude and longitude

[shallowstories]

Who wants a miserable little deancas fic where they make out in the car during Heaven Can't Wait? Well I've good news for you! I just wrote one.

Here's a little teaser:

Cas doesn't startle when Dean starts to undo the top buttons of his shirt, but he does tense. His fingers come up to touch the back of Dean's hand.

"Dean." Cas says, with warning in his voice, but he doesn't stop him.

"You're too..." buttoned up, is the intention, but it doesn't come out, "You..."

"What am I?"

Dean grips his shirt in a fist and pulls him in. Kisses him. Soft in the mouth but weighted deliberately, undeniable, powerful, like pressing on a deep bruise.

Read on Ao3

[shallowstories]

title: paradigm pairing: dean/cas tags: endverse, angst w/ a happy ending, slow burn, h/c

Four months after the Croatoan virus wiped out most of the world's population, Dean's sole objective is meeting his brother at their agreed-upon rendezvous point in Idaho. But when he encounters a mysterious, blue-eyed man in a barn, Dean's plans begin to change. The end of the world is no time for romance, yet there's something about Cas he can't resist. The problem is, Cas has a secret—and it just might prove more deadly than the Croats.

Posting starts August 1st on ao3

add yourself to the tag list here || fic playlist

tagging some friends to spread the word <3

@valleydean @friendofcarlotta @inacatastrophicmind @captainhaterade @jewishdeanwinchester

@bloodydeanwinchester @rauko-is-a-free-elf @saminzat @halevetica

[shallowstories]

Alternatives for "they rolled their eyes".

aka facial expressions/body movements to show annoyance/exasperation.

*warning bad writing; these are just ideas.*

*ideas are not separate and can be combined.*

• Their smile became strained.

• A hand came up to rub their face.

• Their expression fell.

• Their nose scrunched.

• Their forehead creased.

• They frowned.

• They lightly/heavily sighed.

• They deflated.

• Their lips pursed.

• They glanced away/sideways.

• They gave a deadpan look.

• Their tongue poked their cheek.

• They became tense.

• Their shoulders slumped.

• Their foot toed the ground.

• Their knee started bouncing (while sitting).

• Their hands curled into fists.

• They scratched their cheek.

• They took a calming breathe in.

• They looked up for strength.

• They turned/looked away.

• Their eyebrows rose.

• Their eyes squinted.

• Their head shook side to side.

Honorable mention.

• They pretended not to hear.

A/N: Just been seeing a lot of this phrase in books and ff which to me sounds sassy or even rude, which if you're going for that great! Otherwise it sounds a bit out of place. Lmk if you agree or hate me for this lmao. Or have better ideas too.

[shallowstories]

Larry Levis