#YELLOW EYE MISHA. COME BACK.

[mishasbunnis]

2.3 spoilers!!!

voice line count…

There’s no misha…… he isn’t back we’re doomed…..

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Smugglers Part 1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)  

Din pulled his coat close against the wind. The cold breezes felt like shards of glass passing over his exposed skin and he wished to avoid the sensation as much as possible. He turned to see Misha doing the same; her head almost completely covered by the human wool head cover and he could only make out her emerald eye beneath it.

The two of them stood along a busy side street as cars and pedestrians went by in either direction. Winter had been greedy tonight as a layer of pure white snow had covered the streets and sidewalks making the area appear like a winter wonderland of a children story Din read when he was a child.

Peering down at his sleeve and pulled it back for the briefest of moments to look at his chronometer.

They’re late, he thought to himself.

Din felt a tug on his sleeve and looked over to see Misha looking up at him.

“I’m cold.” She said, “I don’t like it here.”

He could feel her trembling through his winter clothing and knew it was from more than just the cold swirling around them.

Kneeling down Din looked at Misha at her eye level. He placed a hand on her shoulder and was about to say something comforting and reassuring to her when a car pulled up alongside them.

A human vehicle driven on four wheels painted in a yellow and black checker pattern slowly rolled down a window and the driver inside spoke to them.

“You two look like you could use a ride.” The driver said jokingly.

Din looked into the cab but couldn’t make out the driver. They were human for sure, wearing a worn cab uniform of a bright yellow vest with brown pants; but they wore their cap on their head that tilted forward to cover much of their face. Aside from a scruffy unkempt beard Din could make nothing out for their face.    

“Thank you,” Din replied, “but I’m not sure where we would want to go.”

The cab driver flashed a smile to Din. “I hear the warden district is rather warm this time of day.”

Din’s eye’s widened for a moment before returning to a neutral expression.

“Now that you mention it, we could use some warmth.”

The door to the cab opened automatically and Din ushered Misha inside. Taking one last look down each end of the street Din then followed her inside the cab as the door slid shut again. ---------

For several blocks neither the driver nor his passengers spoke. The silent calm of the cab broken only by the flashes of street lights as the cab navigated through the busy city streets.

By the fifth block the Din finally spoke up.

“Are you Phoenix?”

To his surprise the cab driver chuckled. “And what if I said I wasn’t?” he replied as he slowed down at an intersection.

Din’s eyes went wide with panic but before he grabbed Misha and flung her out the window the cab driver continued. “Relax, young prince; I am the one and only Phoenix.”

The prince’s expression softened as he rested his hands on his jacket; the bulge of the pistol underneath firmly resting comfortably on his hip, ready for use.

“Before yesterday I had never even heard of you.”

The cab driver shrugged. “If everyone knows your name and face then you aren’t a very good smuggler.”

Din looked unconvinced. “I would have thought we would be meeting some place more….convenient; like a restaurant or theater.”

“You’ve been watching too many entertainment flicks.” The driver remarked as he slowed to a red light, “Putting aside the fact you have one of the most recognizable faces on this dirtball, talking in public invites too much risk of being overheard by strangers.”

“Were as here,” he tapped the roof of the car as if for good luck, “no one thinks twice about a cab driver chatting up his passengers.”

It frustrated him that he could not fault the smugglers logic but Din had to admit it was a clever solution.

“Now, let’s talk business.”

The cab turned on to an express route and merged into the swarms of other vehicles on the roadway.

“My price is not negotiable; you either pay now and I take you to my ship or you refuse and I take you back to the palace to drop off.”

Are you not the least bit curious why a prince and princess are trying to flee?”

Din looked over in surprise to see Misha had spoken up. She had said very little since they had fled the palace and he harbored a suspicion that she still held doubts on their flight to freedom.

The cab driver shook his head. “In my profession asking questions only makes my job harder.”

Taking one hand off the wheel the man called Phoenix reached down and pulled out a torch stick and put it in his mouth. He returned his free hand to the wheel only after lighting it and taking a deep breath of its contents.

“People pay me good money to get their items or themselves from one place to another without any headache.”

Din let out a scoff at the description. “You make it sound like you are a glorified delivery boy.”

“Oh I am.” Phoenix replied, shifting the torch stick from one side of his mouth to another. “You think I care what you call me? At this rate I can buy my own moon in the next three years.”

Din couldn’t think of a remark so sat in silence as the cab continued down the roadway. About an hour passed before the phoenix pulled off the roadway and stopped at a signal.

“Last call.” He said as he held out a free hand. “What’s it going to be your majesty?”

Din hated the mocking tone but knew that this would be his last chance to get himself and his sister off world safely. If he stayed behind they both would be dead by the end of the system cycle, but even if they left there was no guarantee that this smuggler would protect them. They were human after all and were notorious for seeking profit and personal wealth.

Still…..

Din removed a pouch from inside his jacket and tossed it to phoenix. They caught it casually and rustled it around in the palm of their hand as if counting it by weight alone.

“Smart choice.” Phoenix said as he turned left and drove the now two fugitives off to his waiting ship.

[kirishimasensei]

what spring does with the cherry trees (part III)

You stay at your godfather’s ludus for the summer, where you meet Bakugou Katsuki, his champion gladiator.

part I | part II | part III

author :: KirishimaSensei (Misha)

pairing :: Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader

word count :: 2k

tags :: Spartacus AU | adult characters | sexually explicit content | adult language | descriptions of violence | ancient Roman slavery

iii. “And isn't the whole world yours?

For how often you set it on fire with your love and saw it blaze and burn up

and secretly replaced it with another world while everyone slept.”

That night, you dream of making love to Sol, god of the sun. His hair is as yellow as wheat, eyes deep and red as the dusking sky. His skin is bronzed from the sun to which he so lovingly attends, and in return for his diligence, his entire body is encircled in a halo of everlasting golden light.

You and your god are lain upon a large tanned hide, abed a field of green grass, deepened to a dim blue-green in the dark night. Sol looms above you, a single point of light against an otherwise black sky. He is as bare as you are, and where the god touches you, your flesh burns, his hands too hot for a mere mortal to withstand, his mouth too scalding. But there is always a price for pleasure, and a night with a being divine as he is worth the pain in exchange. 

So you wrap your thighs around the god’s hips as he thrusts into you, unrelentless, his cock thick and heavy inside of you. He fills you up, stretches you full, makes you feel a burning so different from the fevered warmth of his skin against your own. Your back arches as you seek our more contact, your heated, human flesh so fragile against the sun god’s searing skin. 

Your lover has your wrists above your head, one of his wide, rough palms holding them in place. The other is gripping your jaw, turning your face away from his own so that he may nose at your throat and cheek and ear. Sol’s breath sends shivers down your spine and when he speaks, words like whispers so deep and low, you can’t make out their meaning, but delight in the sound all the same. 

Your cries reach out into the deep, empty, endless night. The noise echoes back into your ears and you feel blissfully alone - detached from the world and your existence, everything narrowed down to you and your god and this familiar but indescribable thing coiling in your stomach.

Sol’s pace quickens and your breath catches, the god’s hands tightening around your wrists and jaw. Sol bites down against the curve of your neck and hot tears spill down your cheeks as you feel your god find his release inside of you. 

You sob and shake, you ache and burn. Sol whispers your name back into your mouth, guiding you closer and closer and closer with his hands and his cock and his words. You feel him around you, inside of you, urging you on, but when you finally reach your peak, it’s not the god’s name that you call out in prayer.

Blessed night has settled into another day, and your god is forced to return to the sky once more to fulfill his duty, leaving you with mere memories of his blazing touch. But, as remembrance, he sends sunlight streaming through your uncovered window, stroking your body like a lover’s caress and keeping you warm and satiated until the time may come for him to descend upon you once more. 

You long to stay abed, to wait for that moment when night falls so that you may once again greet your lover with open arms and open legs. You want to once again lose yourself to dreams - a much more appealing prospect than this waking nightmare. Even half asleep, you feel the sudden sting of remembered heartbreak.

You’re grateful for your god - the divine Sol who saw you hurting and granted you solace from your pain. Hair like wheat, you remember, like grain. Fine and flaxen and soft beneath your fingers. His body built like it was made for toil, strong and deliberately fashioned. And his eyes - red like wine. Like blood. 

Unfortunately, your companion, Hiroko, does not allow you to dwell in fantasy. She is no longer beside you in bed, always early to rise and greet the day before the sun has had a chance to ascend. 

“You’re awake,” Hiroko says, more a command than a question. 

“Yes. And I had the most wonderful dream,” you tell her, giving up all thoughts of returning to slumber as you stretch out along the bed, arms up and back arched. “I fucked a god. He set my body aflame and then I turned to ash in his hands.”

“And this was a good dream?” Hiroko asks, incredulous.

You sigh. “It was magnificent.”

You sit up in bed as you recall your dream, rubbing your wrists, sore from where your lover pinned you down in his blistering grasp. Hiroko reaches out and grabs your wrist in her own hand, looking it over, and when you look down at it as well, you see bruises instead of burns. The marks of someone other than your god upon them. 

“Better suffer a lover forged from dreams,” Hiroko says, releasing your wrist, “than one based in cruel reality.”

“One and the same,” you reply softly. 

Because you are no fool. You know the being who visited you in your dream is both god and man, one an image of the other. But where one is kind, the other is cruel - Sol comforting you in your despair and Katsuki, the cause of it.

“Why do you think Katsuki so cruel?” you ask, louder now so that you may be heard. “Do you think he’s always been that way?”

“I think that you should remove him from your thoughts,” Hiroko says as she returns to your bedside, holding a stola made of a fine, cream fabric. “Would it please you to wear this today?”

“He is well removed,” you tell her in reply, but Hiroko scoffs.

You pinch the fabric between your fingers, considering. The color is too bland to properly convey how you feel this morning. You need something deeper, more rich. “I have something red, do I not? Like… like the sky right before the sun’s descent. Something like that?”

Hiroko raises an eyebrow at you, unimpressed. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

After you groom and dress, you find yourself on the villa balcony, where Enji and his wife are eating their morning meal. On the table before them is a modest spread of cheese and bread and fruit. In their hands are ever-present cups of wine. Behind the pair, a slave cools them off with a large fan made of feathers as they lounge upon their cushioned chaises. 

The heat is almost overwhelming, even in the mid-morning when the sun has yet to reach its peak. Already, a thin sheen of sweat has gathered on your skin. Already, you can feel the fevered weight of existence heavy on your shoulders. 

The heat and the drought has been a source of discontentment for all in Capua, the shortage of water drying out even the most well-attended bath and turning once-fertile soil into dust. Below the balcony, the gladiators are kicking up the dust and the sand with every movement, the sun baking the grains into a hard-packed floor for the men to move around upon. It crumbles underfoot and sends clouds of earth into the air, covering the men and all things else lowly enough to get in its way.

But this scene is all commonplace to you now. And the crash of wooden sword against wooden shield, of dull-tipped spear and trident, of pain and triumph, have all come to be familiar sounds to you, and this morning fares no differently. The men have no doubt been at it for hours already, waking early to begin their training, breaking for their morning meal, then back at it once more before you were even out of bed. 

You chance a look down at the men, and your eyes are immediately drawn toward Katsuki, brandishing two swords against a gladiator with sword and shield. His usual surly demeanor is obvious by tenfold today, and you can’t help but believe that you are the cause. 

You wonder if he sought companionship last night after you were so viciously turned away, You never sent anyone in your stead, as he requested, not able to bear the thought of another giving him the pleasure you still desperately wish you could give. Did Katsuki blame you for soiling the night of such celebrated victory? Will he ever forgive you your desire and your deceit?

The champion looks up toward the balcony, red eyes ablaze, and you have to avert your gaze, busying yourself by choosing just the right bunch of grapes from the serving tray.

“The men are of a poor form today,” you muse, trying to steady your heart as you pluck a grape off of its stem. As you place the fruit in your mouth, you find the courage to look back down onto the training ground. With both relief and disappointment, you find that Katsuki has once again resumed his training.

“Wine and whores do have a way of dulling the senses,” Enji replies. “Which reminds me, how did the champion enjoy his gift?”

You give him a false smile, already wear of the reminder of the night passed. “She was well received,” you answer, and you don’t miss the way Hiroko looks at you out of the corner of your eye. “Who wouldn’t enjoy such remarkable tribute?” 

Before Enji can respond, the snap of a whip resonates through the training ground and up onto the balcony, drawing the attention of those upon it. You take a step closer and both Enji and Kaina stand to get a better look at what is transpiring below. 

“Attend!” Doctore bellows, voice carrying through the air. The men halt their training and turn their attention to Toshinori, the Doctore – trainer – of Enji’s ludus. “Forget everything you learned outside these walls. For that is the world of men. We are more! We are gladiators!”

The men cheer, a great roar rising up to where you stand that nearly forces you back in its enthusiasm. Your hands grip the banister to keep yourself steady, listening intently as if Doctore was speaking directly to you and not the gladiators in his charge. 

“Study. Train. Bleed!” Doctore continues. “And one day your name will be legend, spoken in hushed whispers of fear and awe. As the city speaks of Katsuki, the Champion of Capua!”

More cheers as the gladiator stands distinguished among his brothers.In your chest, you feel a swell of pride. But also, irritation. You will have no solace from your pain here and you will not waste your day grieving over what should have been. You feign disinterest while taking a bite of cheese. 

“But his legend was not birthed in the arena,” Doctore says. “It was given life here, in this ludus. Under the sting of my whip! Attack!”

The men go at it again with renewed vigor, grunting and howling, wooden swords clashing with dull but resonating thuds. How easily these men are worked into a fervor! And how easily your passion swells likewise. This business of gladiators is a sordid thing, but you would be false to say that there is no art in it. Indeed, anyone who watches someone such as Katsuki move could see the skill and cleverness in every gesture.

“Doctore, attend,” Enji calls to Toshinori, then turns to kiss Kaina’s temple. “We are off to market.”

His words pique your interest. You feel as though you will go mad if you stay stuck in the villa all day with nothing to entertain you save the sounds of gladiators training. Besides, you think you should buy something new to wear for the reception for the Vulcanalia. This will be the first time in ages that you will be able to socialize with people other than Enji and his wife, and you plan to make the most of it.

“Godfather, allow me to accompany you,” you say. “Weeks in Capua and I have yet to go to market!”

Enji considers your request for a moment and then nods his head, giving you the approval you need. Your smile must be infectious because the otherwise somber man’s lips upturn slightly as he notes your excitement. 

“Let us away, then,” Enji says to you, then turns and heads inside the villa, you following close behind. 

[bijoharvelle]

doing these prompts! today is “shoveling snow and working up a sweat” because jackles Did That and it’s dedicated to @thatisahotsoup because they drew this, my new fave thing

There are certain things that Dean never learned how to do. He remembers, faintly, mowing the lawn for his mother inside the djinn’s nightmare. And then there was the year he spent with Lisa, faking his way through suburban living and pretending he knew the firs thing about lawn maintenance. And now, he’s standing out on the front deck, looking out at the expanse of clear white snow that’s spread across their front lawn.

When Cas shuffles up behind him (wrapped up in a hat and several sweaters, and a blanket), he leans sleepily into his back. “It’s very beautiful,” he says, “the snow here.”

Dean smiles a little at that and takes the moment to register that, yeah, it is beautiful. It’s not just a chore to be done. The morning sky is still hazy, having only just stopped the snow showers. Their little Japanese maple has snow gathered on all the low, stretching branches. A little down the street, some kids have already suited up and gotten outside, building some approximation of a snowman.

“Thought you didn’t like the snow,” Dean teases.

“I don’t like the cold,” Cas corrects. “The snow is a singular exception to that.”

“Well, you better bundle up. We got work to do.”

Cas pulls back just enough to set him with an incredulous stare. “What would that be?”

“Shoveling. Gotta clear the front path and the stairs.” Sam and Eileen were due to come over that evening for dinner. If it weren’t for that, Dean would just say forget it, but Eileen is very pregnant and he’s not making his sister-in-law schlep through a foot of snow. 

“It’ll be fun,” he promises as he tugs Cas back inside.

“It will be nothing of the sort.”

An hour hour later and they’ve made steady work clearing a path. Dean is scooping snow out from the driveway while Cas finishes the walkway itself. A light flurry has started, barely a dusting, but Dean keeps getting distracted by the snowflakes caught in Cas’s eyelashes and the muss of his dark hair.

Maybe twenty minutes into the work and they were both peeling off their hats and unzipping their jackets. It may be frigid out, but shoveling was hard work. More than enough to work up a sweat. Cas kept grumbling about bouncing between too hot with his jacket on and too cold with it off.

“Dean?”

Dean blinks and realizes that he’s been standing still, leaning on the handle of his shovel and staring at Cas, for a minute or so. “Yeah. Just. Daydreaming.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You better be doing your share.” He takes step forward, joking at intimidation, but his footing doesn’t catch. There must be an icy patch on the bricks because his heel flies up and Cas goes down, straight into the bank of snow that he’s shoveled up.

Dean loses it.

Through his laughter, he does shuffled over and help Cas to stand, but he doesn’t stop laughing to do it. “Oh man,” he wheezes, dusting the snow off a less-than-pleased looking former angel of the Lord. “I’m sorry, buddy, that was just... The way you just hit the deck...” He trails off into more laughter, leaning over his knees as he does.

Without a moment of hesitation, Cas reaches over and shoves him directly into the snow himself.

As Dean shouts about the indignity and tries to right himself, Cas just gives a haughty shrug. “You should show me some respect,” he says before finally putting an end to Dean’s floundering and helping him up.

“Dirty tricks,” Dean comments. He’s frowning but it’s mostly in play because Cas has a wide grin on his face, appling his red, red cheeks. “You need your hat back on, babe.” He reaches over to the steps, where the yellow-and-black knit beanie lays. Sweeping the snow still clinging to Cas’s hair first, he tugs the hat on for him. He’s sure to cover his ears that have gone red and bitterly cold at the tops.

“Thank you,” Cas says and it’s sweet and warm, his breath misting between them.

“C’mon.” Leaning in, he presses their noses together and can’t help but grin when Cas wrinkles his. “Faster we finish this, faster I can make you some hot chocolate for a reward.”

“I would like two marshmallows,” Cas declares as he picks up his shovel again.

“You get as many marshmallows as you want.” And Dean thinks of that as they power through the last bit of work. He thinks of hot chocolate and marshmallows. He thinks of how Cas’s kisses go slow and explorative when they sit in front of the fireplace. He thinks of this domestic work and this domestic life they’ve built together and how happy he is to have it.

-

@prayedtoyou • @antifacas • @valleydean • @good-things-do-happen-dean • @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you • @leftistdean • @bianca29753 • @spaceshipkat • @madronasky • @dizzypinwheel • @kayrosebee • @feraladoration • @destielangst • @destielle • @heller-jensen • @multifandommagic • @fluffiestlou • @geo-val • @top13zepptraxx • @lanaserra • @dreamnovak • @jazzbabythatsme • @lyndalynn • @organicpurplepants • @cursed-or-not • @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner • @galaxymysteryelephant • @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover • @one-more-offbeat-anthem • @keata-kaylee • @redsconfusion • @bennedict • @festivemish • @smushedmuffins • @galaxycastiel • @itsinjustbeing • @winchester-novak • @queen-rowenas

[camthesolemnone]

*crashes through door*

HI I HAVE ANOTHER ONE!!

Ok. Soulmate AU!! it's the one with the red string connecting you to your soul mate by your pinkie. Make up some rules for it if you need to!! I like to do the thing where the string gets tighter/looser as they move closer and farther from their s/o.

Ok, goodnight, I love you, bye!

*mwah*

*passes out just outside door*

Whoops accidentally made Zhanna older than Heavy in this one. Well I mean, maybe she is, but I've always written Mikhail as the oldest child in his family. Anyway, enjoy!

Wide eyes full of tears and flushed cheeks was what Mama came across upon turning to face who was tugging at her shawl. Little Zhanna, no more than five, was highly concerned about her baby brother.

"Mama! Misha’s finger is blue!"

Fearing that her son had developed gangrene from the cold brought on by the heavy storm outside, the distressed mother turned away from her soup pot and made haste towards the living room.

"Zhanna! Go get your father!" She instructed, entering the space, and the small girl nodded rapidly as she dashed off to where Papa was doing laundry.

Mama approached her child. The infant was situated in the center of the carpet, tiny hands shaking and eyes also leaking. Mikhail couldn't form words yet. He could only helplessly wail as he became light-headed; he had lost all feeling in his pinkie finger.

Mama kneeled down near him, and Zhanna and Papa appeared a second later.

"What is going on! Is moy syn alright?" The older man cried.

Mama took the boy’s hands in her own and examined them closely. As Zhanna had announced, his left pinkie was a light shade a blue. At the base of Mikhail’s finger was a small red string, fastened so tightly that it constricted the blood flow. The Russian mother breathed a sigh of relief.

“There is nothing to fear, he has simply acquired his soulstring,” Mama explained, standing up and giving her family a reassuring nod.

Papa let out his own held breath at the fortunate news, but Zhanna simply stared at her parents in confusion.

“Mama, what is a soulstring?”

Her father reached out to grasp her mother’s hand, and the two of them smiled down at their daughter.

“Young Zhanna, a soulstring is leetle red string around your pinkie that connects you to your soulmate: the person you are destined to fall in love with. Some people’s thread appears immediately after birth, but for others, it can take several years before their special partner is chosen,” Mama revealed.

Papa added on, motioning to Mikhail in the process.

“The tighter the string is, the farther you are away from your soulmate. Seeing as your brother’s is strong enough to cut off circulation, there is good chance his soulmate does not live in this country.”

Zhanna glanced over at the thread on Mikhail’s finger and then back to her parents, crossing her arms.

“What happens to the string when you find your ‘soulmate?’“ Zhanna inquired.

Papa crouched down to ruffle his daughter’s hair while Mama picked up Mikhail and left the room to resume dinner.

“Once you meet fated love, the string falls off for good,” he explained.

The small girl beamed and ran a hand through her black hair.

“Chudesno! I can’t wait to get my soulstring!”

.

Mikhail had given up on his chances of ever finding his love or feeling his finger again.

Forty seven years had passed since the red string initially appeared on his pinkie, and not once had he ever felt it loosen up. He felt hopeless and silently wondered most days if the higher beings had made a mistake. Maybe he truly wasn’t attached to anyone and they had tied the thread just to spite him. Instead, the Russian decided to spend his time taking care of his family.

His father had long since passed and Yana and Bronislava had run off with their soulmates, but at least Mikhail could still provide for his mother and Zhanna.

An ad in the newspaper intrigued him one morning: a mercenary job in America offering thousands. The giant immediately took to calling the company, known as Mann Co., and asked for a position. Not only would he be able to make enough money to provide a comfortable life for Mama and his sister, he was delighted at the opportunity to wield guns against evil men with no consequence. Moving away from the Russian blizzards would also prove to be a positive change.

Within two months of his interview, the new Heavy Weapons Specialist was landing down in New Mexico. A few days were spent getting used to his new surroundings and signing paperwork, but eventually, the bus came by his hotel to take him to the Reliable Excavation Demolition base. 

While lounging in the tough leather seat, Heavy glanced at the surrounding seats and took notice of two other men sitting in the back. They both wore red and yellow bands on their arms, indicating they were some of Mikhail’s new teammates. Preferring not to spend a year with a group of people who disliked him, the Russian moved to the back of the bus to make a good first impression.

“Privet, I am Heavy Weapons Guy,” he began.

The two men looked up from their respective pieces of literature. The younger of the two lazily held and flipped a baseball magazine with one hand. The other man, taller and masked, was gripping a thick, plain-covered novel.

“Yo! I heard that our Heavy was supposed to be, well, you know, heavy, but damn you’re fa--OWW!” The Bostonian shouted, being met with a swift slap from the man sitting beside him.

“Please ignore Scout here. This rotten bunny doesn’t seem to have any manners.”

“Go to hell, you French bastard!” Scout shot back.

The insults continued and Heavy found himself silently slinking back into his seat. He had the strength to snap both of them like toothpicks if he so desired, but it was better not to end his career before it started.

Along the ride, the bus stopped several times to pick up the rest of the RED team. First came their pyromaniac and engineer, then the sniper and soldier. The demolition’s expert came by himself and the final stop was saved for a relatively young woman in a purple dress.

“Er, hello, everyone. I am Miss Pauling, your boss’s secretary. I’m scheduled to give you guys a tour around the base and to break down your jobs. Raise your hand if you have any questions and please, try to cooperate with one another,” the woman sighed.

Dell, the shortest man on the team with a yellow hardhat, raised his hand.

“Yes, Engineer?” Miss Pauling prompted.

“Isn’t there supposed to be one more fella here with us?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Miss Pauling glanced toward the ceiling briefly as if she were really pondering the answer before turning to Engineer.

“Medic’s flight got delayed due to a massive snowstorm in Berlin. He should be here tomorrow at the earliest.”

It was impossible to notice the difference just by looking at it, but Mikhail nearly jerked forward when he felt it. Was he really going insane in his desperation? Had the string really just loosened? It most certainly had, he had felt the pressure ease up ever so slightly, but something in the back of his mind that told him it was just his imagination. The giant shook his head and groaned, barely able to pay attention to anything else Miss Pauling said.

His mind became a battlefield of longing versus absurdity. The thread had suffocated him during his prime. There was no possible explanation as to why his soulmate would be appearing now of all times. By forty seven, Mikhail was overweight, balding, had several scars from his time in Siberia, and was rated ugly by every woman he had attempted to romance. He couldn’t think of a single reason as to why his love would find him attractive now, and it deepened the eternal hole in his heart.

But Heavy held onto the faintest thread of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his suffering was about to come to an end. He would meet with the woman or man fate had binded him to, and he could finally be happy.

That night, Mikhail stared at his bedroom ceiling wide awake. Once their team’s doctor arrived in New Mexico, he would know for certain what destiny had in store for him.

.

Ludwig’s attempt at getting some shut eye on the flight failed. He couldn’t fall asleep even if he wanted to, for his pinkie was regaining its color. Somehow, this job as a battlefield medic that he had selected out of the blue was leading his soul to its missing half.

“It’s only a matter of time,” he murmured to himself, eyes more hopeful than the day he earned his doctorate’s degree.

.

Heavy awoke to the sound of loud yelling and banging on his door.

“Attention! You will be dressed and be stationed in the recreational room for role call in five minutes! That is an order!” Soldier commanded.

The softer, more compassionate voice of Miss Pauling sighed and spoke through the door.

“I’m sorry Heavy. I couldn’t say anything to convince him not to come with me to wake you guys up. Just settle down in the rec room in a few minutes, okay?”

Mikhail groaned, both from a lack of sleep and the sudden wake-up call. He complied, however, adorning his red, short sleeved shirt, his bulletproof vest, the bandolier for his minigun, pants, a belt, and a pair of sturdy combat boots.

When the heavy weapon’s specialist arrived in the rec room, it was absolute chaos. Spy had moved on from insulting Scout to bickering with Sniper, Demoman was already sloshing around a bottle of alcohol, Scout had stolen Engineer’s hardhat and was taunting him with it, and Soldier was shouting at a terrified looking Pyro.

“RED Team! Enough! It’s only the first day and you’re already at each other’s throats!” Miss Pauling stomped, placing her hands on her hips.

Some the the mercenaries, including Heavy, faced towards their higher-up while the others continued to do their own thing.

“Now look, your first battle will begin as soon as Medic arrives. I’m heading over to the airport to pick him up, so I advise you all check over your equipment,” her words more of a command than a suggestion.

Heavy’s eyes widened. He felt it again. 

He decided in that moment that polishing Sascha could wait.

Before Miss Pauling could leave the room, the large man scurried over to her and placed a massive hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.

“Yes, Heavy? Do you need something?” She asked plainly.

Mikhail nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Da, I want to come to airport with you, if you do not mind. I promise not to cause any problems.”

Pauling raised an eyebrow.

“Pozhaluysta, Miss,” the Russian begged, rubbing his forever blue pinkie with his other hand.

Miss Pauling opened her mouth to speak, but her words died on her lips when she noticed the tiny gesture. Instead, she gave him a short nod of understanding and proceeded out of the building.

.

In the car, Heavy’s leg bounced. His breathing was deep, and his whole body seemed to sweat with fear and anticipation. With every inch the vehicle moved, he could feel the burden on his finger lighten up. This wasn’t just some illusion or dream, it was really happening. After forty seven years of waiting, he was about to meet the love of his life.

Miss Pauling took note of his anxiousness, but didn’t say anything during the trip, giving Mikhail plenty of time to ask himself a million questions. What would his lover look like? Would they be a man or a woman? Would they have a heart of gold, or a rotten core that sought to make the Russian miserable at every turn?

Finally, the airport was in sight. Mikhail could hardly withstand the separation between himself and his soulmate. He wanted, needed to find his other half. He needed to shower them with all of the affection he had been waiting so long to administer. He needed to hear their voice and inhale their scent and feel their body against his own.

Miss Pauling nearly tripped over her high heels trying to catch up with the eager Russian. She had seem some truly heartwarming instances of soulmates meeting over the years, but never before in her life had she seen someone so desperate to unite with their fated love.

.

He had to hold onto a railing as he stepped out of the plane to avoid passing out. 

Ludwig had always experienced air-sickness while flying, but more than that, his hand was trembling. The string that had plagued his right hand for decades was loose, looser than it had ever been before. The doctor was overwhelmed; he wanted to throw up and cry tears of happiness at the same time. This was his moment, his soulmate was waiting for him.

As he stood near the loading gate, the thread loosened further, and it signaled that his soon-to-be lover was getting closer, closer.

Unable to withhold his excitement, Medic dashed across the airport. He got caught up in several crowds and passed right by the luggage pickup, but none of that mattered. He was following his heart’s call now; he let the slackening of his bindings guide his every step.

.

“Heavy! Please slow down!” Miss Pauling yelled, but the giant had blocked her out a long time ago.

There was only one voice he was willing to let in now. He pushed past a group of adults with the tiniest apology as he charged up the stairs. If he were anywhere else, he would have most likely been stared at and thrown out by security. In the chaos of the airport, everyone assumed he was simply running to reunite with a loved one.

An opening in the crowds.

Everything went silent.

The world slowed down.

Mikhail spotted him, his soulmate across the grand building. He was more handsome than he could have ever imagined, and although he didn’t know it yet, Ludwig also firmly believed that he had just encountered an angel.

The soulstring unraveled and landed on the ground.

All remaining distance between them was covered in a second. The force of the impact sent them to the ground, but neither of them cared. Arms wrapped around strong bodies, tears spilled out of adoring eyes, and lips whispered the pledges of love they had so desperately longed to hear.

At last, Mikhail and Ludwig were home.

[mangher-a]

"MISHA! I SAID STOP!" Eyes flash yellow as she barks at the other, who ( for some reason ) seemed to be losing his cool far more than usual. Which, in truth, was putting it lightly. Loni had actually been concerned she might need to shift to get things under control, but without noticing it DOMINATION had come into effect- the full force of it directed towards none other than Mikhail himself. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You're acting like- like..." Like he was losing control of his own sanity. Something she knew the feeling of all too well. "Talk to me, Mikhail... please. If something isn't okay, I'm here for you. Just... tell me though."

@maljefe

. ミハイル .

It's an odd feeling, being trapped by something invisible. One moment he's ripping things apart, his mind filled with flashes of images he tried to forget; memories he didn't need here, in this life --- like he was trying to fight off something or escape something one couldn't see. Had he gone too long without destressing, or was it something else that had triggered the episode, he didn't exactly know. Because he never learned how to work through things such as emotions.

He felt stuck. Rooted in place, his whole body shaking while his eyes dart from one place to another, like he's expecting an attack. All he can see is the shadow of his own father skulking around, waiting to jump. But through the ringing in his ears and blurred vision he sees and hears Loni. It confuses him, but also makes him worried because the shadow is still there. Slowly disappearing, but still there. He's panting, he blinks. Muscles in his arms ripple and it looks like he's trying to change.

Everything's on overdrive, but the odd feeling of... something, something invisible wrapping around him and stopping him from moving is both welcome as it is scary. He doesn't understand. It kinda reminded him of something from far back, something soft and nice, in an odd way. Something he already forgot about.

He couldn't remember their face anymore, but the feeling was there.

Mikhail blinks slow, staring at Loni, though not really seeing her for a moment before reality starts to sink back in. He still shakes, though not as violently as before. She was there, she was fine. Nothing bad had happened, he didn't hurt her. The realization has him let out a shaky breath. And what he gandered he'd not hurt anyone, it was mostly materialistic damage, things that could be replaced.

Misha looks more so confused when Loni talks, and he lifts a shaky hand up to wipe away blood that's dripping down his cheeks. The thing is, when he looks at his palm, there's nothing. It's wet, yes, but he's not bleeding. It slowly dawns on him that the hurt he's feeling is not physical. He keeps rubbing his face, feeling the scars on his face, remembering the fights and situations he had gone through to survive. His breath hitches, followed by a broken sound that he hates, causing him to snarl and snap his teeth at in agitation.

He hates this.

He hates this.

He hates being weak. He is not supposed to be weak. He can't show weakness. It's bad, it's bad, bad bad bad bad---

Misha stumbles when he tries to move away, to probably run off somewhere, to hide, to cause more damage to the surroundings or himself. But he feels weak. Like everything had been zapped out from him by something. The oppessive feeling was still there, lingering.

He ends up on his knees, on the ground, coughing until it seems like he's almost hacking up a lung. He can't, he shouldn't, he needs to--

It's all a garbled mess at first, the words more or less nonsense.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to.

I had to.

Didn't mean to.

Killed everyone.

Everyone's dead.

My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault,----

"It was my fault!" he snaps, at some point having gripped Loni's arms, staring at her, still wild but utterly broken. "I did it! I did it, it's my fault! It wouldn't have happened if--!!"

His grip briefly tightenes, then loosens again as he just collapses, most likely pulling Loni with him. His face pressed against her stomach as he sobs. Arms around her.

"I miss everyone-- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I should have done better, I didn't--- I--"

should have died a long time ago.

The last part was left unsaid, and all that filled the silence was the cries of a man who for the first time is experiencing the comfort he's lacked his whole life.

[sokodraws]

Crying. Why was he crying?

ye, infelix doesn’t cope well with his past, it haunts him so to say

he’s one of my more broken characters

full story under ‘read more’

PAST LIFE

(witten as a comission by the amazing @/tomokoseph on twitter)

          Infelix had the flat all to himself. It wasn’t a first for him—far from it, he’d say—but it was still a rarity. Not only that, but he had a week without any of the others running about; it was a far cry from the two days at most he’d spent alone. And how did this begin? A modeling gig? It was only the third day of his isolation, and he already wasn’t sure. Though even if the memory had become a haze, he could still find necessary details.

           It all began as a long conversation on a rainy afternoon. With a sudden text letting Dorcha and Flora know they’d been selected for a bigger modeling job, they gained congratulations, only to surprise the rest with how long they would be gone. Misha would join the pair—it seemed everyone expected that—and after that, it felt like everyone wanted to join along. Diopetes seemed more than eager to join the newly created trio. After contemplation, Mire decided he didn’t want to be left out of this team of sorts and tagged along even if the whole thing was of no interest to him.

           And then there was one. But even with all of the others’ pestering, metaphorically and literally tugging on Infelix’s arm so he could go out farther than the city for once, he wouldn’t budge. As far as he was concerned, someone had to look after the apartment (a lame excuse). Admittedly, he was surprised that everyone let him get left behind, but he wasn’t complaining.

           Infelix didn’t do much throughout the days, savoring the time to himself that slowly counted down to the group’s return. It’s not that he hated their presence, but sometimes the constant conversations became overbearing, and silence only came about in the dead of night. Hell, the more he thought about it, he should have gone along to make sure no one got in trouble. And yet, out of his volition, he let them go without a peep. Considering they were all used to their human vessels, nothing too wild could stem from one week unsupervised. Hopefully.

           Now, on the third day, he could admit he was getting used to this mundane routine of his. It began to grow on him, even turning into a comfort he never thought he’d ever experience. To know it would disappear within a few days didn’t click yet, so it felt like paradise being able to stay anywhere he wanted without anything to interrupt his train of thought. With that, he decided to do something he hadn’t in a while: listen to music.

           After laying on the couch for what felt like hours, he stood up and walked towards their old, small shelf. While it remained empty for a while, Flora insisted they decorate at least a little. That’s what ended up with them owning a few potted plants, books they’ve never read, and a used record player that came with a collection of vinyl records. Pulling the record player out of the top shelf along with a random record, he walked towards the couch, having to place it on the ground to plug it in. After a bit of fumbling around, the record was in its place, and the needle set down and slowly bringing it to life. He then stared down at the album he had picked out. Brahms? Not a bad choice. As the sounds of Piano Concerto No. 1 filled the room, a thought came to Infelix’s mind: I need a drink.

           After a quick jog to the kitchen and rummaging through the shelves, he pulled out an ornate bottle of whiskey that he didn’t touch too often. It was on the more expensive side—one he doubted anyone could drink regularly with its price—so he saved it for special occasions. Well, special wasn’t exactly the right term, but it felt most appropriate to how he felt then. Taking a glass one shelf down from the alcohol, he walked back to the living room, falling back onto the couch as he poured himself some whiskey.

           Taking a sip as he placed the bottle onto the coffee table before him, Infelix let out a sigh as the strong drink slid down his throat. As the intense playings of a piano that graced his ears died down, transforming into soft strings, he stared at the wall, his previous thoughts washing out of his mind into nothingness. As he relaxed further into the couch, taking a bigger swig of his drink, he wondered what would have happened if he had Dorcha and Flora’s lives. What was it like running about in pretty clothes, getting pictures taken and blown up for others to see, feeling somewhat significant in this anomaly of a universe?

           Then, he paused. Once, he felt like someone of significance, somewhere in a land from long ago.

           Deadramel.

           No, he hadn’t forgotten about the realm. It would always be lingering in the back of his mind, still waiting to come to the forefront. After getting used to human years, that moment in time felt like an old memory, though it had only been a little over a decade since then. As he took another sip of his drink, he realized he was running dry, leaning forward to pour himself a little more.

           Infelix remembered how everyone treated him before, becoming an important demon to all who knew him. But he just had to ruin it all, following along with Mire and Dorcha’s plans of killing the King, turning into a traitor to all in a single day despite centuries of trust. Even then, he didn’t blame the pair more than himself; why did he let such a plan go through? Grimacing, he drank down more whiskey, finding that it went down smoother the more his thoughts ran.

           Before this, Infelix lived a far better life. He lived with prestige, was respected by all, second only to the King. All that he needed was at his disposal, and any commands met in moments. And even before his lavish life within castle grounds, merely roaming the wasteland Deadramel used to be, there was still one thing he had that couldn’t compare to anything else in the world: the King’s love.

           But that was long ago. Now all Infelix had was this lackluster flat, surrounded by the ones he could have stopped, living a life where he felt he was rotting away. He felt like a hollow shell of the demon he once was, and the thought made his head throb in a way he rarely felt. By then, the music had disappeared into the background, barely heard by the never-ending words that rushed through his mind. They mocked what he had turned into, about how he’d never get back his past life no matter how he tried. No more Deadramel, no more of the other demons he cared for, no more of the King; all of these were memories he could visit, but all they’d do was bring him pain and suffering.

           Staring down at his glass, at the drops of golden alcohol that sat at the bottom, it didn’t seem like enough. Placing the glass down, ignoring how it hit the table with a thud hard enough to break it, his eyes met with the whiskey bottle. It was still three-fourths full and, while he was unsure if it was even a right decision, all semblance of rationality had disappeared from him. In one quick movement, the bottle was in his hands, and he drank as much as his body would let him.

          By the time he’d taken more than he could, pulling the bottle away with force, his vision had gone so hazy that he swore he wouldn’t move from the couch. But his instincts had other plans, forcing him out of his seat and roaming the room, pacing around with desperation. Despite the dull thud that made his head ache, he still needed more, craved more to muddle the thoughts that overcame him. Rushing about the room with the whiskey still in hand, he’d soon find his answer hidden deep within one of almost untouched drawers they had full of medicine, just by the bedroom door on the lowest row. Dropping onto his knees, he felt his headache only grow worse, but he merely shook it off as memories of the past jumbled together with the pain.

          Infelix put his bottle down onto the ground before pulling the drawer open. He pushed aside any medicine he knew wouldn’t help, instead reaching for the small, bright yellow bottles near the back. All were still full to the brim, but with labels that had faded enough to be left unread. He didn’t remember what any of them did or even who they belonged to, but he didn’t care.

          With hurried hands, he screwed the lid off of one, gulping at the sight of pills right in front of him. As far as he was concerned, this was what could help him forget, maybe take him out if luck was on his side, and he tilted his head back as he dropped them all into his mouth.

           Some fell onto the floor, but that was the least of his concerns. With a mouthful of pills, he forced them down with whiskey that he drank down with desperation. After placing the bottle down, eyes staring at the other medicine that sat before him, he reached for another. He repeated what he’d done, over and over, too many times to count, but soon found out he was out of alcohol. Clambering up to get more, he stopped himself dead in his tracks, a memory slipping through the cracks.

           Deadramel, still a wasteland, no one else but one in sight.

          The King’s voice.

           “No, no, that’s not right.”

           Infelix nodded slowly, though still seemed confused by the magic he was supposed to mimic. When they found themselves in areas too dark to see, he would always rely on the King to lead the way, bringing about light as bright as stars that peeked through the night. But the King told him that it couldn’t continue this way forever, and Infelix would have to learn the skills that he had honed. Although surprised at first, Infelix accepted but wasn’t too sure how well this ordeal would pan out.

           “Is it not?” Infelix asked, a limb extended from his shapeless form.

           “No. Why don’t you follow after me, hm?” The King outstretched a limb as well. For a moment, there seemed to be no sign of struggle at all, the faint aura of magic swirling around him, soon manifesting as a ball that glowed in his palm. “Don’t push yourself too hard, and it will come, I promise you.”

           Infelix, still in shock at how effortlessly the King created light, wondered if he could ever reach such a sheer amount of skill. Now flustered as he felt the need to push himself, he strained his mind to create something in his hands, feeling the King’s gaze on him for every second that passed. With a mixture of motivation to do as the King pleased and shame at the lack of prowess he had at magic, a semblance of results would soon yield.

           At first, what had appeared were simple sparks, though even the small display had the King let out a gasp. The reaction had Infelix wanting to push for more, but his next few attempts only gave the same results each time. Though Infelix was on the verge of giving up, the King stood beside him, seeming unbothered by the failed attempts. Instead, the King repeated as he had done before, and all Infelix could do was watch in awe, then caught off guard as he felt a sensation tingling in his palm. Looking ahead towards his palm, his concentration suddenly increased tenfold, and it seemed all magic he had transferred right into his hand. Before his mind could even process what was happening, the same ball of light the King had suddenly manifested before him.

           To say shock and awe ran through Infelix’s body was an understatement. He brought the orb closer towards his face, squinting down at its brightness, in disbelief that he could create such a thing. Yet any confusion would cease as the King suddenly drew near, beaming at Infelix, seeming prouder than ever. The sight of this had Infelix feeling lighter than air, much more pleased by his abilities in a matter of moments.

           “It’s not that hard, is it?” the King asked, tone joking. “I’m proud of you, Infelix. You truly do have the potential to harness great magic.”

           The statement had the already elated Infelix feel joy that overtook his whole thoughts, his entire body. To be praised by the man that cared for him was divine, an experience incomparable, and he doubted even the grandest occurrences that could happen in his life would compare to this small moment he shared with the King.

           And nothing ever did.

           Despite all the alcohol that filled his stomach, pills floating amongst the liquid within, the memory was as clear as day. It was as if it had occurred all over again, and the thought made Infelix pause, staring down at the ground as he couldn’t quite process it no matter how he tried. Why then? Why now? For him, it all didn’t make sense, and the dull throb in his head only grew worse.

           Subsequently, tears dripped onto the ground, and it took a moment before Infelix could realize what was happening. A heaviness settled itself into his chest without warning, a light tremble over his body following, and tears continued to slip past him even if he wanted to stop them. Crying. Why was he crying? In all that had occurred in his life, tears never fell, only dread filling him in the worst of times. Perhaps his humanness was catching up with him, and he couldn’t help but groan in frustration as he let emotion overwhelm him.

           The past would never return, his greatness only existing as fragments in his mind. No, all he had now were Dorcha and Mire, the pair only serving as a reminder of the mistakes he made in the past, a pair he had to take care of no matter what. But by then, Infelix didn’t even know if he could continue being the pair's carer. In a sense, he wanted to do all he could for them, but it was as if his body had given up.

          Infelix was at a loss for what to do, all he had consumed unable to hinder such extreme emotion. It was as if hundreds of years of exhaustion finally manifested into his human vessel, and he felt utterly useless. Unlike before, the conditions of his life were against him. By then, he couldn’t name a single good thing that had happened in years. He was nothing. A failure—

          He needed another drink.

          And another.

          More pills.

          Before he knew it, Infelix passed out, slumped against the wall as he dropped a bottle of whiskey in his hands, knocking over other bottles he’d had strewn across the floor.

[whateverthedragonswant]

Holy hell, wtf did I miss?

Oh right, the Denver Con happened today. SIGH. I should have known.

I'm seeing all of these posts about anger at Jensen and "cancel Jensen" and all that nonsense. Look, man, I get it. What he said was not great but can we seriously slow our roll, take a second, and think about this logically?

#1) Dean has never given an extra glance at Claire or Krissy or Kaia or any other young girl in the series. Young women that he's encountered all throughout the series? Yes, he sure has. But young girls? No. Even right down to the girl that Lillith possesses in the final season, even though she had been trying to subtly work that angle.

#2) Let's think back to Jack's intro scene, the first time Dean ever saw him. Jack was completely nude and standing there with glowing yellow eyes. Jack was not Dean's son in that moment. He was not part of the family yet. He was a being that had just come into existence that Dean automatically sees as a threat and tries to shoot which he is then prevented from doing by Sam. Now, had Jack been a woman the same physical age as he is in this scene, it's quite possible that yeah, the show would have had Dean throw in an extra glance here (because let's face it, that's the show we watched for 15 years) but I tend to doubt it due to what was happening in the story at that time. Dean was hyper focused on handling the nephilim problem and even had Jack been a girl, I guarantee he still would have reacted the same way he did towards Jack after Cas' death and Mary's disappearance. We might not have gotten the great scenes of Jack trying to copy Dean (or maybe we would have, who knows?) but we would have still absolutely gotten John-Dean. Because ultimately, Dean blamed Jack for Cas' death and as Jensen himself has said before, Dean saw more of Lucifer in Jack at first and then eventually saw more of Cas in him. Tbf, I'm not inside Jensen's head, but I'm almost willing to bet that this particular scene is what he was thinking of when he made that statement.

#3) Was it an okay thing to say? No. But seriously, the man is on stage doing a live panel solo. We know he's not a fan of doing these things solo, and we also know he's mentioned previously that he has dealt with anxiety in the past. I guarantee he meant this as a joke and not as a stance on "my character would be a total creepy perv and I completely stan that, thanks guys, great question". I seriously doubt he wants Dean to be seen that way and I doubt even more that he meant for what he said to be taken at face value the way it has. Can I tell you how many times in my life I've said something in a conversation with people that I think is downright hilarious and have convinced myself 'oh this will knock them off their feet with laughter' only to find out that's not the case? That someone accidentally gets offended or it ends the conversation quickly? Or it comes out wrong, and not in the way I absolutely meant for it to come out but between my brain and my mouth it got jumbled up? Or came out way worse than I meant it to? It happens. And tbh, I can't imagine being in Jensen's shoes at these panels, or Misha's, or Jared's, or any of them. The whole idea makes my palms sweat and shivers run down my spine. So I know, that if I were them, I'd be saying so much worse shit and I would have been cancelled long ago, and in no way am I the type of monster these people are making Jensen (and Dean) out to be. Guaranteed, this is most likely a case of him saying something he thought would garner laughs and be entertaining. (have we forgotten the whole "titties" answer in a previous panel when he was asked what would happen if Dean woke up with the body of a woman? Or how about his sometimes problematic responses to conversations about Destiel and Dean's theorized sexuality in the past? The man is human, you guys, this shit happens, especially live, and he is not the only actor this has happened with)

#4) When these guys do these panels, let's remember they're being performative, meaning they are up there literally performing because people paid $ to see them live and ask questions (and also get photo ops). They are there to entertain. So when Misha appears to give Jensen a hug from behind, you're seeing their public personas interacting, not them, not how they would interact if they were alone without phone cameras aimed at them, being spread all over the internet within seconds, and where fans could overhear. It doesn't mean that Misha isn't a genuine person for example, or that you're not hearing Misha's true thoughts on Cas when he talks about him, but you're also seeing his public persona. Same goes for Jensen, Jared, AlCal, Jake, and all the rest. We do not know them personally. It doesn't matter if you've met them for a photo op or gotten their autograph as they stroll through the airport or follow their social media. We do not know them personally. We only see what they've chosen to show us (and most of it again is through their public personas: at cons, in interviews, in gag reels, in fan interactions, etc.). Didn't Misha himself even confirm once again today that there are things he's not supposed to talk about, meaning that once again allegedly rules are being strictly enforced on them? (and are we really surprised that there were barely any Destiel questions at Jensen's panel? The questions are being allegedly heavily monitored, correct? Come on now) Jensen does not appear to be someone (that we've seen thus far) who condones the type of creepiness that you're talking about. And if he truly believed that Dean would be the type of monster you're describing, I highly doubt he would be so protective of him or stan him the way he does, no matter how much of his time and energy he's invested into the role. Nor would he want to continue it or delve deeper into Dean's story (hypothetically through John and Mary and the prequel business).

My whole long point is let's just take a breath for a second and not immediately jump to "cancel! cancel!" or "next time you think about talking Jensen, die" (which is so fucking horrid and disgusting, I can't even begin to elaborate on what's wrong with someone who would post something that vile) or "he's a rich white man what do you expect?" and all kinds of the stupid shit I've seen clogging up the Jensen tag in the last couple of hours. Listen, you're certainly entitled to your opinion and you can hate him all you want. You can choose not to support him or watch any of his content or work that's coming out. That's your right. You can cry "cancel!" if you still want to but at least take some of this into consideration before jumping on the bandwagon to hate on the man and post horrid shit like above (though saying 'die' and 'kill him' is NEVER OKAY about him or anyone else and you need to STOP IMMEDIATELY). And I feel like this should go without saying but obviously it's not, but can you please keep your negativity to the anti Jensen tag then? Thanks. Have a great rest of your weekend.

[expectingtofly]

Because I Like You

632 words

romantic fluff, post 15x20 (canon divergent bc the canon sucks), established dean/cas, human cas

also on ao3

Day 3 of @bend-me-shape-me‘s SPN Advent Calendar 2020 prompts

“Home sweet home,” Dean joked when he opened the motel room door and flicked on the lights. He dropped his duffel bag onto a small table which wobbled unsteadily. “Damn, it’s been a while since we stayed in a motel.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, shutting the door behind him and looking around. “They are...” he poked at a curling piece of wallpaper, “less than ideal.”

“Yeah, this one is pretty crappy.” One queen-sized bed with a hideous purple, floral comforter. Blue and yellow striped wallpaper that’d clearly seen better days. Water stains on the popcorn ceiling. “Kinda nostalgic though.” Castiel looked at him curiously. “I mean, just because Sam, Dad, and I lived from motel to motel for so long.”

Castiel nodded. “It’s nostalgic for me too. I spent many nights watching over you in rooms like these.”

“How many nights are we talking?” Castiel looked sheepish. “Don’t tell me you were spying on me and Sam all the time without us knowing.”

“No…” Castiel draped his trenchcoat over the chair next to the table. “Not all the time.”

Smiling, Dean shook his head and sat on the bed, which squeaked indignantly. “God, Cas. You’re a creep.”

“I was an angel!” Castiel protested. “It was my duty.” 

He set his bag down by the bed and Dean pulled him to stand between his knees. “I’ll give you a pass because I like you and because I know you had a crush on me.”

“I was following orders from Heaven, Dean,” Castiel said haughtily, but he twined their fingers together. “Besides, you liked me too. Even if it took you an embarrassingly long time to admit it.” 

“Look who’s talking,” Dean retorted before throwing Castiel's own words from so long ago back at him, “You know, I dragged you from the Empty, I can throw you back in.”

Castiel burst out laughing, but he took the bait, stepping closer and growing serious as he cradled Dean’s chin to make Dean look up at him. “I’d like to see you try.”

And angel or not, Dean could swear he saw lightning flash in Castiel’s eyes. 

 After letting Castiel prove that, despite giving up his grace to become human, he was still as formidable as ever, they showered and piled into bed. Turning on the TV, Dean scrolled through the channels. Castiel curled up against him, head resting on Dean’s stomach. He groaned when Dean paused on Dr. Sexy, M.D.

“Come on, you love this show,” Dean said. “And it’s the holiday special.” As was evident by the Christmas hats the staff were wearing over their scrubs. He wasn’t sure how hygienic that was.

“You have horrible taste in television," Castiel complained.

“What do you know? You only just started appreciating Scooby Doo. And that’s a classic.” He gestured to the TV. “They hung mistletoe over the operating room door. If this isn’t quality TV, I don’t know what is.”

“Fine,” Castiel sighed, shifting to wrap one arm around Dean’s waist. “But only because I like you.”

Dean grinned. They fell into an easy silence, Castiel’s weight on him comforting, every rise and fall of Castiel’s chest grounding.  For not the first time, he marveled at how lucky he was—to have this, to have Castiel with him alive and breathing.  He slipped a hand under Castiel’s t-shirt to feel the warmth of his bare skin under his palm. 

The Dr. Sexy holiday special ended and Dean switched off the TV.

“Cas?” he asked quietly, looking down. He smiled at seeing Castiel conked out. It was still an unfamiliar sight, a former angel sleeping, but it was one he loved. If anyone deserved some rest, it was Castiel.

Gently, he pushed Castiel’s still damp hair out of his eyes. “I’ll watch over you,” he whispered.

Tag List

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @spookyskeletonsandallthezombies @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder

I’ll be writing more holiday fluff this month and have other fics in the works, so let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be tagged in my other destiel fics or removed from the list :) 

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. XCI

It was a love story from the very beginning.

Breaking Walls (Part. II)

(12x22)

Hello my friends! We are about to finish the metas from season 12.

This time we will talk about Leader!Sam and the Foreshadow of Healing!Dean from season 14.

Trapped

The episode opens with Sam, Dean and Toni locked inside the bunker, trying desperately to find a way out.

The curious point of it, is that they will try a spell to break free...

SAM: Seems like pretty basic ingredients. Nothing we don't already have. Oh. (...) The mechanisms “must be anointed with the blood of virgins.” (...) I mean, I've read half a dozen purification rituals in the last hour. If we used one of those on – on our blood...

DEAN: Then what? Revirginize it?

SAM: Maybe.

TONI: So we purify the blood, then do the spell.

Focusing on the symbolism here, first of all, the bunker becoming a trap, and the boys trying to scape from it, is a foreshadow of Dean trapped in his own body, possesed by AU!Michael. But then the spell they choose, need purity, virginity, clean blood.

Purity will be a relevant point in season 14 as the goal searched for AU!Michael and as a recalling to Purgatory, foreshadowing Purgatory 2.0 in season 15.

So when Toni says WE PURIFY THE BLOOD AND THEN DO THE SPELL, she's giving us the prelude for Healing!Dean in season 14. The path Dean will take to purify his soul, to really grow after being possesed, and facing himself. He will have to find his own in once to break free from Michael, and his emotional prison.

While talking about the way Dean had pictured his death, this is the face he made when they mentioned "blaze of glory"

Gif credit @jaredandjensen

Which is not the face you would do if you really wanted to die of that. Dean is, at this point, as he was in season 10, considering his options, he is growing up and the blasting idea of die as "blaze of glory" is not what he really wants for himself.

When we heard his confession in season 10 and then we saw him meeting Jesse and Cesar in Season 11, we can infer what's in his heart. What he really wants. Curiously, the topic of season 14.

The explosion Dean made on the wall to break free, is a symbolic representation of the big turning point in his life when he lost Castiel.

Breaking down the walls

The mention of Jericho at the beginning of the episode refers to "break down the walls".

Jericho's battle, described by the bible, was the first battle israelites to conquer Canaan. Jericho was powerfully guarded by wall, they were able to break down in the seventh day of the battle.

What this has to do with this episode? Well. Is an episode that shows us a lot of wall that fall and break down. First of all, the bunker becoming a prison, Dean broke the wall. Now is time to break emotional/psychological wall: when he gets inside Mary's mind, trying to reach her through a very emotional speech, he will be breaking those walls, and at the same time, he will be foreshadowing Cas and Sam getting inside his head to reach him, in his emotional prison in 14x09.

Dean reached Mary through family love, but it was necessary two kind of loves to break Dean's walls: Sam (family love) and Cas (romantic love) in season 14.

The speech Dean gave to his mom to reach her is the self knowledge about his traumas.

And because is a Berens episode, we have the parallels between scenes, to show us a message.

In one scene we have Sam trying to break down the walls of British Man of Letters to defeat them, guiding a team of hunters, foreshadowing his leadership in season 14.

And in the other scene, we have Dean trying to break down his mom's walls from her emotional prison.

Bot scenes interrelated with the profound meaning that will have Dean's possesion by AU!Michael.

The way Dean's speech to reach his mother is a reflection of his own self, is the perfect philosophical path he will take in season 14: Self discovering, self acceptance.

So, we can infer that the parallel between Sam's battle against BMoL is a reflection of Dean's battle to reach his mother, but at the same time, Dean's future inner battle to break free from his emotional prison.

Sam defeats and kills the head of BMoL, releasing the american hunter's from her. Just like Dean will release his mother from the mental control. And just like Dean will break free from his emotional prison in season 14.

Dean's self aknowledgment of his traumas

When Dean arrives to his mother's mind, he finds her younger, taking care of him and Sam before she died. Is a perfect (fake) world her own mind had created to keep her away from the reality, because the reality hurts. This is the perfect parallel to 14x09, when Sam and CAS find Dean in the Rocky's bar.

DEAN: Look, I know that they messed with your head, okay? I know it feels better in here. It feels safer. (...) Mom, look at me. (...) You're choosing this.

Dean is aware his mother is trapped in her own mind, her own emotional prison. That's not real. This way he is mourning his childhood's mother too. Because he faces her, and he tries to drag her back to what she is now.

DEAN: You promised you'd keep me safe. And then you make a deal with Azazel. Yeah, it saved Dad's life, but I'll tell you something else that happened. Because on November 2, 1983, old Yellow Eyes came waltzing in to Sammy's room, because of your deal. (Mary turns abruptly and walks past Dean to Sam’s crib in the living room) You left us. Alone. 'Cause Dad was just a shell. His perfect wife? Gone. Our perfect Mom, the perfect family... was gone.

Okay, i will make a cut here. When Dean starts the speech that will make Mary to break free, he starts saying YOU PROMISE ME YOU'D KEEP ME SAFE. He's talking about him, here, that's why I said that in this same speech Dean Winchester finds himself, his traumas, as the begining of his healing journey. Then, he narrates the big scene that changed his life forever. That day he went from a normal kid to have a hard life. YOU LEFT US is pointing at the demand to his mother, the empty space that must be filled (by Dean). Something he had in his heart, burried. Is te request of that little 4 years old kid. DAD WAS JUST A SHELL is also demanding to John Winchester for not be for them as he should. He was a shell, empty spot it must be filled. (By Dean). The perfect wife and mom doesn't exist, it was a fantasy Dean kept in his mind, it was the image he had of Mary Winchester. The image of the little boy. The perfect family, gone. Remarks the mourn Dean is doing, as an exercise while talking to his mother.

Gif set credit @littlehobbit13

Dean's aknowledgment of his role in Sam's life brings him sorrow and pain, because as he will continue saying, he feels he failed.

DEAN: And that wasn't fair. And I couldn't do it. And you wanna know what that was like?

They killed the girl that he loved. He got possessed by Lucifer. They tortured him in Hell. And he lost his soul. His soul. All because of you. All of it was because of you.

Even when Dean is taking all of the bad things that happened to Sam on his back, he shows his mother she started it all. But look how Dean carries with all these curses.

DEAN: I hate you. I hate you. And I love you. 'Cause I can't – I can't help it. You're my Mom. And I understand...'cause I have made deals to save the ones I love more than once. I forgive you. I forgive you. For all of it. Everything.

Okay, this is very deep. First of all, we have Dean starting his ILY journey right here. The firsts words are said by his innocent heart, the 4 years old kid is talking here: I HATE YOU AND I LOVE YOU, is the duality of his feelings, his deep fears, and his repressed emotions. He hates his mother Because he had to go through all of that, and because Sammy had to go through all of that because of her mistakes. So, as the child he was once, he says I HATE YOU AND I LOVE YOU, BECAUSE YOU ARE MY MOM. Then, it comes the grown up man talking, as an adult, Dean is able to understand and forgive Mary's mistakes. Now that he is a man, he can connect with his mother's errors. And he is able to forgive her, reaching that peace he needed in his heart with her and with himself.

DEAN: On the other side of this, we can start over, okay? You, me, Sam. We can get it right this time. But I need you to fight. Right now, I need you to fight. I need you – I need you to look at me, Mom. I need you to really look at me and see me. Mom, I need you to see me. Please.

This, this is huge. Why? Because is a parallel to the mixtape scene. Look how Dean mentions 'YOU, ME, SAM', there's not doubt, not head tilting, no regrets as it was in the mixtape scene, why? Because there's no doubts Dean is talking about FAMILY, and not RANTIC LOVE HERE. In the mixtape scene he puts Sam as a shield, because he needed to protect himself from his own feelings YOU, ME (CAS/DEAN) it wouldeant JUST CAS AND HIM, THE TWP OF THEM, ROMANCE. GAY. But putting Sam there, he turns that into FAMILY. Now, there's not doubts in this scene, because Dean is talking about family. There's not shield needed. Family: YOU, ME, SAM. In both scenes he is asking for a new beginning, work toge as a family. But in the mixtape scene there was this romantic tension giving it an all different meaning.

When Dean asks his mom to really look at him, is the way he will bring her back to reality. Because the grown up man in front of h is the real one, his real son. The same will happen with Dean being possesed by AU!Michael, in which Dean will be able to see himself as he really is.

To Conclude:

This episode was full of symbolism, but the main topic was how to break walls, emotional walls, as a prelude to season 14, in which we will have Healing!Dean and Leader!Sam.

Hope you like this meta, see you in the next one, will be the last from season 12!

Tagging @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @authorsararayne @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@destielle @spnsmile @shippsblog @robot-feels @superlock-in-the-tardis @superduckbatrebel @2musiclover2 @madronasky @anon-non2 @cea1996 @lisafu02 @asphodelesauvage @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you wanna read the previous metas from this season, here you have the links:

Vol. LXXV, LXXVI, LXXVII, LXXVIII, LXXIX, LXXX, LXXXI, LXXXII, LXXXIII, LXXXIV, LXXXV, LXXXVI, LXXXVII, LXXXVIII, LXXXIX, XC.

Buenos Aires, December 6th 2020, 6:59 PM

[bijoharvelle]

during the covid hiatus of spn i wrote a series of soft summer prompts. it proved positive and reaffirming so i decided i’d do the same for winter! i’ll be doing these prompts, roughly daily. this is an expansion on the post-canon universe that i started writing for the soft summer series, so you’ll understand more with that context, but won’t be too lost otherwise. enjoy! this one, with the prompt “early morning walks when all you hear is the crunch of snow” goes out to @aurastiel because i know they were very hype when i announced that i would be doing a winter series c:

It’s usually quiet at this hour, in their sleepy little central Jersey town, but with the snowfall from last night, there’s another layer of quiet to it. Like the snow that sprawled over the gentle hills and streets has hushed everything. Especially since, on a Sunday, the plows haven’t come through to the town square yet. It’s just thick white, as far as the eye can see.

Dean’s holding Colt’s leash this morning and she stopped to sniff at a frozen over branch, so Cas is a little ways ahead of him. The pompom on his soft purple cap is bobbing as he tips his head back, eyes up at the haze of winter morning sky. He has his hands tucked into the pockets of his fleece and Dean will bet it’s because he forgot his gloves, even though Dean reminded him as they were getting ready to leave the house.

Colt barks once, her breath solidifying, as a warning that Cas is getting too far away from her. 

“My apologies,” Cas says as he stops and turns to them. Dean is struck by the sight of him: grinning, patch of red over his nose, scruffy beard, a mess of bedhead poking out from under the hat. He looks healthy and happy and freezing and Dean loves him so much it settles over his soul like a calm snowbank.

They catch up and Cas leans into Dean’s space, tucks an arm through one of his. But in the next minute, one of Cas’s hands is dipping into Dean’s coat pocket. “I told you to bring gloves,” Dean nags.

“Yes, you’re very smart,” Cas replies, unbothered. 

They walk in silence a little longer and their boots crunch through the fresh layer of snow and ice. Colt ducks her nose into the snow in front of her and scoops it up, sending flakes spraying out and they both laugh as she tries to bite it in mid-air.  

“Look.” Dean points out the streetlights that line the plaza. There are delicate wreaths just below the lamps and a wind of fairy lights along the pole. They weren’t there Thursday night, when he had come to pick Cas up from the library. “It’s coming on Christmas, I guess.”

Cas smiles and removes his hand from Dean’s pocket, slips it into his free hand instead. Dean just sighs and laces their fingers together, tucks both of their hands back into his pocket. “Gonna get frostbite.”

“Thank you for protecting me from frostbite,” Cas says with a sweetness that’s probably only half-mocking, and then he leans in to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek. His nose, when it brushes along Dean’s temple, is freezing and Dean shudders but just presses in closer.

When they pass by the animal shelter, Colt starts her usual chorus of barks and howls, sure that every dog in her former home wants to be friends. Cas reaches forward to pat along her back, muttering something calming in Enochian. She quiets, but her tail still vibrates with excitement.

There’s a gentle, brief breeze and all Dean can smell is the fresh, brittle scent of cold.

“Are you gonna work on that scarf more today?” Dean asks. He gave Cas shit when he first picked up knitting (Patience was ecstatic, sending him patterns and tips and showing him the best way to hold the needles) but he reaps the spoils in the form of warm, if slightly lumpy, hats and scarves and, soon enough, mittens and sweaters.

Plus, he’s found that he kind of likes holding the length of yarn for Cas. He keeps the wound up bundle in his lap and undoes a length around his hands, like in cartoons, and just sits next to Cas on the couch. Cas knits and he watches telenovelas or whatever is on TCM and Colt curls up beside them and it’s...nice. It’s calm and safe and easy and nice. Dean doesn’t have to do anything, can’t really with the yarn around his hands, so he just sits still and relaxes.

“I was going to, yes,” Cas replies.

“Awesome,” Dean says and they leave it at that as they crunch along further through the unbroken snow.

He’ll help Cas with the knitting. Before that, maybe he’ll get some work done on the toy chest he’s building for Jo’s Christmas present (one of them, at least). Lunch is gonna be up in the air but he’s thinking stew for dinner, something warm and rich and hearty. Maybe he’ll goad Cas into making that weird red, herbal tea for them while he’s knitting. Mostly, he’s thinking about that, about being sprawled on the couch, Colt’s head in his lap and Cas focused and working next to him, some John Ford playing in brilliant yellows and oranges on the screen in the quiet evening. 

Mostly, he’s thinking about this, now, six in the morning with Cas pressed alongside him, sharing body heat, and their dog trotting ahead of them through the quiet morning. They’re only a mile and a half from their house, their home, and the day stretches ahead of them as easy and gentle as the fresh snow.

-

tags under the cut, as always pls let me know if you wanna be removed or added!

@prayedtoyou • @folklorecastiel • @valleydean • @good-things-do-happen-dean • @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you • @nesnej •  @bianca29753 • @spaceshipkat • @madronasky • @dizzypinwheel • @kayrosebee • @feraladoration • @destielangst • @destiel-is--real • @brazencas • @destielle • @flowersforcas • @50shadesofcanon • @multifandomagic • @fluffiestlou • @geo-val • @menjiiii • @top13zepptraxx • @lanaserra • @eccentriccas • @trasherasswood • @angelresort • @starlightcastiel • @dreamnovak • @jazzbabythatsme • @lyndalynn • @organicpurplepants • @cursed-or-not • @contemplativepancakes • @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner  • @galaxymysteryelephant • @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover • @one-more-offbeat-anthem • @keata-kaylee • @redsconfusion • @bennedict • @mishha • @smushedmuffins • @galaxycastiel

[unmeisenshi]

Story: The Hero’s Return

A few weeks prior, Solaris gathered copies of the then latest newspaper, writing a note within them and sending them off to each team member.  The message was to meet at Misha’s coffee shop, the Aurora Veil Cafe.  The day would finally arrive for each member of the team to arrive, and once everyone did, a massive celebration was in order.  It was here that Solaris and Urie got a good look at everyone and how far they came during their training.

The first to arrive was Zane.  He stood a good three inches taller than before, and he wore a white, cape-like coat on his shoulders.  In addition, his bone club was modified, it now being a dull blade made from his bone.  His body now also closer to that of an Alolan Marowak.  Beyond that, his training yielded incredible results, the Marowak gaining two new moves with his blade, and a tighter control on his Dragon Install.

The next to arrive was Florence.  She went to the Air continent, and came upon the Gengar that nearly ruined the world many years ago.  The Gengar trained her, and the Umbreon now has the ability to control and manipulate her shadow, allowing her to create objects within it and even the ability to create a shadow double of herself that she can send in to fight.  It is with limited capabilities, as she can only use her own shadow to cast attacks.  Her training of this changed the color of her paws to a white color with a fire pattern.

The third to arrive was Avett.  He went on a journey to find his father, and after finding him he trained under him.  During this time, Avett would evolve to Machamp.  However, due to an accident involving chemicals he lost his upper two arms, and had the stumps and bone removed by his father.  His shoulder blades are adorned with scars from the surgery he had performed.  In addition to that, he further developed his mach speed, allowing him to “tune-up” to higher speeds.  However, as he learned the hard way, tuning too high will result in him passing out or even potentially dying as a result.  His medical skills have improved dramatically as well, him confident that he can heal any injury.

Next to arrive was Vance.  He traveled back to his old home, coming across an older Lucario named Jonas in the mountains who trained the young Lucario.  This Lucario was known to wear a red bandana, and did the entire time that he was with him.  Unfortunately, Master Jonas passed two years into training with Vance.  Upon his passing, Vance took on the red bandana worn by the older Lucario, tying it over his eyes.  In addition, Vance now ties his aura feelers in a ponytail.  His moves have changed dramatically, as his aura blade is now taken the form of a rapier sword, and he has more control over his emotions.

Next to arrive was Morello.  He had returned home to the Grass Continent to train.  It was here that he found his parents again.  He would rejoice upon finding them again, and after a few days of catching up with his parents and family, he went into training.  During this time, he had surgery performed on his missing leg, having the stump removed and had a new prosthetic attached to his skeleton and nerves.  This new prosthetic has the ability to change its form to a blade, allowing him to strike with it.  And in his training, his right eye would be scarred over and closed shut.  He also now has a bit of hair growing on his chin, giving him a bit of a beard.

Xan was next to show up.  He traveled to the Sand Continent to train, coming across a group of Hitmontop who decided to train him.  His capoeira skills are greatly improved, and he mixes in fire-type attacks with his capoeira, the Hitmontop giving him the nickname of “diablo del fuego.”  After his training was complete, his masters gave him a yellow sash to wear, as proof of their friendship and proof of his training.

Next up to arrive was Aurelio.  He left for the mist continent, finding a traveling band of Zoroark that he trained under.  Due to his mane being grabbed multiple times, he cut it to be shorter.  In addition, he dyed the normally black portions of his mane a purple color.  He was able to, through the help of the Zoroark group, develop his own fighting style - his Gale Claw style.  This fighting style is very aggressive, relying on slashes from his claws that are coated in dark energy.  He has mastered his new style, even teaching it to his new friends before returning to Flora.

Finally, the last to arrive was Isaak.  He had returned to his home deep in the woods, soon finding a library with an old wizard running it.  He learned a lot from the wizard, including the ability to cast spells from his spell book without his staff.  In addition, he was given an updated version of his old spell book, allowing him to summon creatures from it at will and order it to attack.  He now also wears a pair of squared glasses as well, and is a force to be reckoned with.

Everyone celebrated at Misha’s coffee shop.  He and Beck ended up in a loving relationship together after the two of them supported each other through their rehab.  The two live together, adding an upper floor to the shop and living up there.  And all the two could do was watch and smile as the team reunited after so long.  After a good few minutes, Solaris stood up, and got everyone’s attention.

“Everyone.”  He looked about the room, and smiled even wider.  “It’s wonderful to see you all again.  It seems these three years have been wonderful to you all.  You are all looking better than ever.”  His eyes would brim with tears of joy.  His hard decision had paid off, and everyone looked stronger than ever.  And he couldn’t be more proud.  He raised his glass for a toast.  “Here’s to even more adventures together.  Thank you for going with my decision!”

Everyone else raised their glasses in unison, cheering as they did.  With the team finally back together, they finished their party and returned home.  The next day would be back to work for the team.  But they were looking forward to it.

[naitiaclo960writings]

Day 7 - Domestic

The moment you feel at home is when you start decorating the house. Dean had been repeating this to Sam ever since they had officially established their headquarters in the Men of Letters bunker. First of all, he began by displaying his favorite weapons in his room: his sawed-off shotgun, the machete he had made in Purgatory, a grenade launcher, his father’s fighting knives, his first stake… Quickly, the souvenir albums had left Baby’s trunk to weigh down the drawers of his bedside table.

Sam ended up imitating him by putting his clothes in the closet first, then his computer pouch in the desk, and finally he ended up storing countless books and tapes in boxes by his bed. Dean had obviously taken over the kitchen as quickly as possible and built his famous "Dean Cave" while Sam could spend whole nights devouring every book in the library or archives.

Castiel had also inherited a room — although it was rarely occupied — and was particularly fond of the calm of the infirmary, watching over one of the two brothers when necessary. Jack, for his part, was in the only house he had ever known and cherished every wall in this underground lair.

However, everyone agreed that the refrigerator was undoubtedly their favorite part of the bunker. The Men of Letters' was not a simple American fridge with two doors, nor even a fridge with a minibar option. No, their refrigerator was absolutely gigantic, with several doors dug directly into the wall and at least two meters of metal in width.

Of course, the food gets everybody to agree —especially when Dean felt like making his own handmade burgers— but that wasn’t the only reason this family was particularly fond of the fridge. It was not so much what was in it that found grace in their eyes, but what was on it.

The first person to hang anything on it was Sam. Tired of having to repeat to his brother to buy vegetables, he had then written a precise shopping list before hanging it with a magnet on the door containing the beers, certain that Dean would fall face to face with it before the end of the day. In response, Dean had hung another post-it on a lower door saying, "Here, rabbit man."

Soon after, Jack felt confident enough to hang one of his drawings, then another. Castiel had happily added the menu of this Chinese restaurant on the outskirts of Lebanon where the Winchesters loved to order after finishing a case. Dean had pinned a few handwritten recipes and Sam was again the first to put a picture of the four of them in the library, playing board games. Months later, Dean solemnly hung his wedding announcement with Castiel below the date of their first kiss, lovingly scribbled on a piece of paper. Little by little, the fridge was filled with memories and post-it notes, a fresco of their lives spread out among the gates of the metal surface.

It was past midnight when Sam decided to have a pick-me-up to continue his search among the archives. He proceeded as usual to his reserved part of the refrigerator when a bright yellow post-it attracted his attention. He knew every photo on this fridge so well that the slightest new element was now popping into his eyes and he came closer to read what it was saying.

"I’m sorry. Can we talk?"

It was definitely Dean’s handwriting. Sam frowned, the cogs of his brain creaking in his head. He hadn’t had a fight with his brother recently, it was barely if he’d seen him for the last two days. Jack had been on vacation with Jody since the beginning of the week and Castiel had left the bunker for… oh.

Dean and Castiel had a fight five days ago. Sam had not really understood the reason for the argument, the two of them shouting at each other behind closed doors before they remained silent for hours. This was the reason why Dean had been locked up in his room since Tuesday and that Castiel only came back from time to time to wander like a lost soul before leaving for an indefinite period. This message was therefore not addressed to him, Sam realized. It was a cry for help from his brother to Castiel. Although the angel did not need to drink or eat, it was true that he particularly liked to look at the refrigerator whenever he could as a reminder of why he called this place "his home".

Sam pinched his lips and decided not to interfere. It was something between his brother and his best friend and he would be there if they asked him for support, but not before. Although troubled, Sam grabbed a beer and a few cherry tomatoes before leaving the kitchen.

To his surprise, the first post-it did not stay on the refrigerator very long. The following day he had been replaced by a note written with much more careful writing despite the austerity of the words.

"You said everything you had to say and so did I."

A cold anger sweated in Castiel’s words. Sam was still in the kitchen when Dean made his entrance, heading for the food first as usual. He was also present when his brother’s eyes fell on the note and he froze to read it in silence. A few seconds later, Dean unpinned the post-it before wrinkling it and throwing it in the trash. He returned to his room without even getting the breakfast he had come to fetch.

"I’m an idiot. Please pick up your phone." Said the following note three days later accompanied by a photo of Dean and Castiel wearing reindeer antennas for Christmas that they had celebrated with family two years earlier. Sam recognized Dean’s trembling hand behind every word.

Sam soon found himself opening the refrigerator more often than usual simply to find out how his brother and Castiel were progressing in their fight, worried about each one of them. Dean was still  as silent as a tomb about it and he hadn’t seen Castiel for a week now. Whatever happened between them, it was by far the longest argument the couple has had to date.

Dean’s last note remained unanswered.

When Sam opened the fridge door one morning to take milk, the post-it had been replaced by another still written by Dean.

"Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word, Elton John"

Sam could not help a small smile from appearing on his face. Dean had always been more gifted with music than words, but the mere fact that he chose Elton John showed something fragile and sincere. Sam hoped Castiel would get the hint. Just below this post-it was pinned a photo of their fingers intertwined, the bright wedding rings to their fingers, as well as a large black feather.

Indeed, the next day, Dean’s note was still there, but this time accompanied by a second piece of paper with an address.

"716 E Montana Ave, 1312, Baker. Room 17. You’re the One that I Want, Grease."

Not more than an hour later, Dean had gathered his belongings and was already finding an excuse to Sam when this one cut him off. They exchanged a look which they alone knew the secret before Dean nodded and fondly patted his shoulder. The next minute, the Impala’s engine was growling in the garage before moving away, leaving Sam free to go and have breakfast with Jack in the kitchen.

When Dean returned two days later, it was with Castiel next to him and a weight off their shoulders. Sam sent them a simple, gentle smile before going to hug his brother and Castiel. When he got up to bring them beers, he noticed that the post-its had not left the refrigerator. However, no one ever removed them afterwards.

The family simply added other memories as life slowly resumed in the bunker.

* * * @winchester-reload  Hi! Here’s a short one for today with my favorite couple. Please, let me know if you enjoyed it!

You can find the whole series on Ao3

Tag list /!\ PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE ADD TO (or removed from) THE TAG LIST so you won’t miss any updates.

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @styggtroll @thanks-tacos @petrichoravellichor @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ladywaywarddsc @hellfire37 @destiel-221b-sabriel @aloha-cowgirl @destielhoneybee @dysfunctional-destiel @ozonecologne @doofcas @castielrisingabove @zoerayne2426 @tibbinswrites @vicmc624 @thegirlofstarlight @berrieseveryday @staycejo1 @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @bab-spnfamily @lo-mindpalace

[waywardnerd67]

Starving Affection

Summary: It had been five years since (Y/N) had any physical contact with another person. When she starts talking with a man online who reads her fanfics, a battle of her  mind and body begins. When the time comes to meet him, she finds that there are still decent human beings in the world.  Characters: Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Sami (OFC), Plus Size!Reader Pairing: Jensen x Plus Size!Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff/Smut/Body Image Distortion Word Count: 9256 A/N: Again, me working through my feels. Thank you for allowing me to do so.

My chest tightened. Jaw clenched until my teeth hurt. My body rigid and frozen as panic flowed through my veins. The overly friendly, new teacher had her arms outstretched towards me. If I had been a normal person, I would gladly hold my arms out as well embracing her kindness and affection.

I was not normal.

“Hey Katy!” My partner teacher and best friend, Sami, headed her off by stepping in front of me and taking the hit of affection.

There was a special place in Heaven for Sami and if not, I would fight God themselves to make it so. I could see Sami whispering to Katy and a nod of acknowledgement told me I would not have to worry about her advancements again.

“Sorry (Y/N), I didn’t know you weren’t a hugger. How about a high five?” Her sweet gesture had my trembling hand stretching out to her as she quickly slapped it with her own.

Only Sami could see my flinch from the physical touch of someone. Everyone else summed it up to my quirky personality and weird aversion to being touched. Thankfully our English department meeting was over and I could escape to the safe haven of my car. Sami was close behind me waving goodbye to everyone.

I bumped my shoulder to hers as she was the only one I had no problem with minor touching, “Thank you for taking that hug for me.”

She laughed, “You’re lucky I’m a friendly and huggy person. Hey, I meant to ask you before school today, but how is counseling going?”

I cringed, averting my gaze from her, “It’s… going fine.”

She stopped me with a tap on my shoulder, “The truth, please.”

I sighed as my shoulders slumped in defeat, “I stopped going,” I saw the incoming assault in her narrowing sky colored eyes.

“(Y/N)! You were making such good progress with this counselor. I was even able to give you a one arm hug.” The disappointment in her voice weighed my shoulders down even more.

I leaned against my car pulling on the sleeves of my hoodie, “I know, I know. She had me go to one of her support groups and everyone had to hug someone. I… I just couldn’t. I tried three or four times going to the group and I failed every time.”

My eyes fell to the ground, disgust filling my mind, “Yes, you really are as pathetic as you’re sounding.” My inner voice snarked.

I heard Sami sigh, “It’s okay. We can work through it together. We can keep doing everything you liked from her and work at your pace.”

Looking up, I forced my lips into a small smile to appease my only real life friend, “That sounds good. Thanks Sami for putting up with me.”

I made my way home to a small ranch style home that was off the beaten path. My grandparents had left it to me knowing I would love the seclusion of it. It was my Fortress of Solitude. The only living thing, other than Sami, to be able to snuggle with me was Charlie the cat. The copper Main Coon was sitting by the door awaiting my arrival.

My evenings were always the same. Check in with my mom for an hour on the phone. Make or order dinner, which tonight was ordering pizza for the leftovers tomorrow. Turning on my favorite TV show, Supernatural, on Netflix and working on one of my millions of fanfics.

“Yes, stay in complete denial by hiding in your fantasy worlds and falling in love with fictional characters. Loser.”

I pushed my inner thoughts to the very back of my mind and focused on my current series I was writing. Pulling up Tumblr, I looked in my notifications seeing someone binge reading my masterlist. My heart always swelled with joy whenever someone took the time to read my writings. This person was also leaving feedback as well.

“ChevyMan67: I love this version of Dean! You truly have captured his personality and sarcasm.”

“ChevyMan67: I can’t get enough of this series! Please tell me there is more to come. I need to know if Dean finally falls in love and gets his apple pie life.”

I read through every comment and looked at every GIF the reader posted. I hit follow on his blog then took a few screenshots from my activity page, pulling up a blank post adding the pictures.

“Thank you to @ChevyMan67 for binging my stories! Your feedback means everything to me!”

As soon as I posted it there was a notification of a reblog from him. He posted a GIF of Dean screaming with #Fangirling flashing underneath. My cheeks ached from the unusual tension of a genuine smile spreading across my face.

Online I could be anyone I wanted. I would virtual hug and blow kisses at my friends. I was able to be more like the woman I was. Social, happy, carefree, open to others. I could be the woman I desperately wanted to be but my mind would not allow.

“Stay guarded. Remember what happened when you trusted him? Trusted his family? Never again. You promised never again.”

My indeed guard held the line at the gate of my mind. She stood in full armor and shield ready to throw off anyone that even attempted to break through to the part of me that desired to be a whole person again. I shook my head with a firm nod and reaffirmed my promise to myself to never let anyone that close to me again.

As I was closing down her computer for the evening, a ding caught my attention as a message came from Tumblr. Opening the window, I saw a DM from my newest follower.

“Hey there, I just wanted to say thank you for following me. Apparently I’m a rarity on here for being male and a fan of Supernatural. I truly love all your writings and can’t wait to read more. Hopefully, we can get to know each other better and become friends. Anyway, I’ll leave you alone. Message me any time. Goodnight.”

I re-read the message several times before closing my computer. Sure I had people message me for small talk and a few close friends I had on there. This felt different. Something deep within me sparked and I did not know how to react. There was only one person I knew I could go to and her reaction was more frightening than the thought of responding to ChevyMan67. That night was the first of many restless nights for me.

A week later, I finally sat down and responded to him.

“Hey, I’m sorry it took me so long to respond. I’m… well, I’m not used to talking to guys here. I think it’s great that you’re on here and reading, BTW. I’m working on a few pieces right now, maybe you could beta for me if you have time. I hope we can be friends as well. Have a good weekend!”

I was nearly hyperventilating when I hit enter sending the message. I tried to work on my newest one shot story and ignore my anxious heart awaiting for the ding. It was not until I was in bed watching my favorite episode of Supernatural that my phone chimed.

“Tumblr: Message from ChevyMan67”

My finger hovered for a moment before opening the app. The message opened and I let out a air I had been holding in my chest.

“No worries. Everyone is busy and has their “real life” to attend too. I work odd hours and days all the time so I get it. I would LOVE to beta for you!!!! Reading your work before it’s posted online? HELL YEAH! I feel honored you asked and I’m fanboying hard right now. Crap… that sounded… I mean. Sorry lol. You can send your fics to ChevyMan67@gmail.com. Looking forward to hearing from you again.”

Over the next six months, Ross and I talked throughout our days getting to know one another. Three month into Tumblr messenger and dumb updates, he gave me his cell number to text one another. At times, I would have to catch myself from laughing while my students took a test. Everyone around me started to notice the small changes in me. Smiling more, talking more and one student commented on me wearing bright colors.

“You look good in yellow Miss (Y/L/N).”

However it was Sami who demanded to know all about the changes going on with me. We sat at our favorite restaurant, the first round of drinks being set in front of us. After the waiter took our order, Sami began her interrogation.

“Tell. Me. Everything. You’ve been keeping me at bay and I’ve respected your space, but you have seemingly blossomed in the last few months. Spill.”

I bit my lower lip as my phone sounded with an all to familiar chime. I went to grab my phone when Sami placed her hand over it, “Me first. Tumblr second.”

“It’s not Tumblr. Let me reply to him and then I will tell you everything.” I dared to look up to see my best friend’s face frozen in shock.

Her eyes wide and mouth gaping, “Him?!”

I nodded reading Ross’s message, “Hey I know you’re out with Sami and going to tell her about little ole me. I just wanted to make sure you were still thinking about what I asked last night. Can’t wait to hear from you soon. Not now though, have fun with Sami.”

I smiled, locking my phone and putting it in my purse looking back to my ridiculously happy friend, “His name is Ross.”

There was a loud, attention grabbing squeal from her as I shushed her, “Leave out no details…” she rested her perfect chin on her folded hands.

I told her all about Ross and how we began talking. I told her everything I knew about him and what he knew about me. Finally, as our food came out and drinks were refilled, I told her about what he had dropped on me the previous night.

“He asked me to meet him at the Supernatural Convention in Dallas next month. He already has the passes paid for and a few photo ops that we could share.” My heart raced at the thought of meeting Ross and meeting my favorite celebrities all at the same time.

Sami’s smile faded slightly, “Does he know about your struggles with being touched?”

I nodded, “It was one of the first personal things I told him. He’s still talking to me so I took that as a frightening good sign.”

“What are you feeling?” her point blank question shook me for a moment.

My fingers drummed against the table, “I’m nervous, scared, anxious…” I paused for a moment before looking up at her with a smile.

“I’m also excited, hopeful and curious.”

Sami held out her hands to me, palms up and I hesitantly placed my hands in hers. It was something we had been working on for the last couple of months. This was the first time I allowed her to squeeze my hands.

“You really like him.” She whispered smiling like a fool.

I felt my own smile mirroring hers, “Yes I do and that scares me shitless.”

The rest of the evening felt like the old days before my life fell apart. When I got home, I decided to test my luck. Pulling up Ross’s number, my thumb hovered over it until I smashed it hearing it ringing.

“Well hello, this is a surprise.” His velvety smooth voice sent shivers down my body, “Take a deep breath and know it’s okay if you hang up to just text me.”

“N-No, I’ll be okay.” I stammered as he let out a low chuckle.

I could hear him moving away from other voices around him, “I interrupted something…” Guilt and shame weighing my shoulders down.

“Not at all. They can wait, you calling me is an important moment. Not everyday, I get to speak to my favorite writer on the phone.” His compliments calmed my queasy stomach, “Could I be so hopeful that this phone call is working up to a good answer?”

I took a deep breath in and let out slowly, “Yes.” The word seems foregin to her as it left my lips.

“Yes I can be hopeful or yes to my question?” His jovial banter eased the tension in my shoulders.

“Yes.” I tried to sound a little more confident, my heart beating against my chest.

There was a moment of silence before loud cheering and yelling came through her speaker. His excitement was silenced by my own unfamiliar laughter. Suddenly I was hyper aware that he was no longer making any noises. Panic and fear swelling inside me.

A soft sigh came from him, “You have a beautiful laugh. I can’t wait to hear it again.”

My cheeks burned, “Thank you.”

Ross told me he would send all the details for our trip and that I was not to worry about money of any kind. Mentally, I began planning out how to save as much money as I could in the next four weeks. Thankfully, my savings was built up enough to take a small hit and not dip into her emergency fund. Over the next several weeks, I began to prepare for my first convention, first time meeting an online friend, first time traveling by myself, first time facing the unknown in five years.

The morning of my travel day, I went over to Sami’s house with Charlie. I was surprised to see her sister sitting there. She waved to me before taking Charlie’s crate.

“What’s going on?” I looked around seeing Sami’s suitcase packed by the door.

She smiled, “Your friend Ross, reached out to me.”

The color from my face drained for a moment, “H-He did… How?”

“He found me on your Instagram page. DM me asking me to join you on your trip. Stating and I quote, ‘I know you being there with (Y/N) will make her more comfortable. I want this weekend to go as comfortably as possible for her. I know it’s a big step and I want her to be taken care of.’”

She smiled softly as my vision blurred from tears slipping down my face, “Oh… wow.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing (Y/N/N). If you were ever going to work on overcoming your touch aversion this would be the man to do it for.” Sami turned around to help her sister, leaving me to my own thoughts.

“Absolutely not! There is no way he is getting through my defenses. I have held strong for five years. Your heart and mind are safe within my holds.”

“Do you really think he’s going to want to touch you? Look at yourself. Lumpy. Chunky. Squishy. Dull (Y/C/H) hair. Boring (Y/C/E) eyes. Not even a decent pair of boobs or ass. You’re nothing special. Always remember that you’re nothing special.”

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) stop it.” Sami’s voice rang clear bringing me back to the present.

I nodded slowly, “Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Freaked out. We will work through it. Sara is gonna drive us to the airport and we have an hour to chat. Okay?”

It was in the moment that I noticed my best friend had absentmindedly placed her hand on my shoulder and I did not flinch. My eyes looked to her hand and back to her, “You’re touching my shoulder.”

“Crap, I’m so sor…” she started to say but my bright smile stopped her, “What?”

I placed my hand on top of hers, “I didn’t flinch or move or even notice you did it.”

Now her smile was matching mine and we had a moment of pure excitement jumping around each other. True to her word, we spent the hour on the plane doing some meditative exercises. I thanked every high power who would listen for my best friend getting her psychology degree.

There was a man waiting with our names on a piece of paper. He took our bags and drove us to a  hotel near where the convention was being held. Sami checked us in since there were so many people inside and my anxiety started to flare up.

Breathe in counting to six. Breathe out counting to six.

I repeated my breathing exercise until Sami returned her brow furrowed, “What is it?”

“I don’t know who Ross knows, but he must be connected in some way. We have a suite on the fourteenth floor.”

My jaw dropped slightly before I stood up bracing myself for the next hurdle of getting through the elevator ride. Luckily, there were only two other girls in the car and I could safely keep my distance from them.

“I heard that Jensen is staying at this hotel.” One mentioned as the other rolled her eyes.

“Yeah right. This is Dallas, I’m sure he’s probably staying with his family or something.”

The girls exit on the eighth floor and before the doors could close Sami and I were chuckling to ourselves. The chances of Jensen Ackles staying at this hotel would be astronomical. The car dinged for the top floor and opened to a small hallway. When we opened the door to our suite neither of us spoke.

Sami walked throughout the entire room before I could even move from the entryway, “This room is amazing! Check out the view we have (Y/N).”

“Hold on. Having a moment.” I breathed as Sami came to my side and I held my hand out, “I’m fine. Just need a moment to make sure this is real and not a dream.”

I watched as she walked over to the coffee table where there was a gift basket and she held up a small notecard, “Oh it’s real.”

“(Y/N) and Sami, I hope you love your room. Enjoy your night and order anything you want. The front desk knows it’s all on my tab. I’m hoping you both will join me for dinner tomorrow night after registration. Sadly, my job won’t let me leave before then. I look forward to meeting you both. -R PS: I highly recommend the spa and they have a large private jacuzzi just for you, (Y/N).”

Sami sighed, “I really hope he has a single brother, cousin, friend that is like him for me.”

I rolled my eyes walking over to the large windows looking out. Flashes of the last time I was in Dallas popping into my mind. I shivered as the one voice I hated yelled loudly in my ears. My hands covered them and I felt Sami tap my shoulder twice. For the first time, in several years, I reached out to her and gripped her arms.

“(Y/N) remember why we’re here. Remember talking with Ross on the phone. The tone of Ross’s voice. His laughter.” Her calm tone eased me out of the wretched memory.

She guided me over to the couch and went to get me a glass of water. I sipped it slowly before squeezing her hand, “Thank you.”

“You know, I can get used to you reaching out to me. Feels like the (Y/N) I knew coming back.” Sami squeezed my hand back before I let slip from her grasp.

She was right, the woman I once was before my ex was fighting her way to get out again. Still, my guard was up standing fortified at the gate.

That evening was a girls’ night of epic proportions. They went to the spa where (Y/N) sat in her private jacuzzi while Sami received the best massage of her life. Afterwards, we ordered our dinner from room service making moderate choices since neither of us were paying. When our food came there was a special dessert also with another note.

“A little birdy told me that your favorite dessert was French Silk pie. I wanted you to have a slice and some New York Style cheesecake for Sami. Have a wonderful night.”

Sami whistled, “Man, he has it bad for you.”

“Shut up.” I muttered lifting the dome to see a delicious slice of pie.

As they ate and talked, Sami took my phone taking pictures of them enjoying a very Sam and Dean style dinner. Sami having a Chef’s salad with honey mustard dressing. I took a picture of my dinner sending it to Ross with a text saying thank you.

“Dean would be proud! That bacon cheeseburger looks good. Enjoy!”

I smiled the entire time I ate my burger. Finishing out meals, Sami hooked up her laptop putting on Supernatural. I decided to try and work on some stories when a terrifying thought crossed my mind. I looked up to the screen as Dean began to talk. I closed my eyes listening carefully to his voice. The low tone and smoothness of it. It was the way he said the word writer that had my eyes snapping open and a gasp escaping my lips.

“What? What is it?” Sami sat up concerning filling her eyes.

Like pieces to a puzzle everything snapped into place. All the small details that would go unnoticed by someone who would never expect it. Sami tapped my shoulder and I turned to her with wide eyes.

“Ross… that’s Jensen’s middle name.” I mumbled reaching for my phone.

Sami stood up pausing the episode, “Okay… what are you getting at.”

“Listen.” I played for her the voicemail he had left a few days earlier, “Now play the episode.”

Sami’s eyes connected to her, “No way.”

“Ross is Jensen Ackles.”

That night my dreams were filled with my ex yelling at me. Fat shaming me. Calling me a loser. Calling me useless for not being able to bear children. His looming form made me coward into a ball on the floor. I woke up several times during the night, the final time close to six in the morning. Sami was peacefully sleeping on her side of the bed.

I picked up my phone going into the living area and dialing the all too familiar number. On the third ring she was going to hang up, but then his groggy voice pierced my ears.

“(Y/N), is everything alright?” All I could hear was Dean, which meant that it was truly Jensen on the other side.

“You tell me, Jensen.” I heard him sit up as I began to pace near the window.

A long sigh came from him, “I knew you would figure it out before meeting me.”

I scoffed, “Is this some kind of celebrity joke or prank? Pretend to be someone’s friend and embarrass them when they meet you.”

My guard was shaking her head muttering, “Told you so…”

“No, (Y/N) it’s nothing like that. Misha had read some of your stories and suggested I should read them. At first, I thought it would be weird because I’ve never read fanfiction before, but your writing… it drew me in.” His words came out all in one breath.

I froze, “M-Misha read my stories? Oh god…” My body burned from embarrassment.

“Honestly, there’s not a person on our crew that hasn’t read at least one of your stories. You’re talented and the way you write for the boys is amazing. Our own writer’s are impressed with your talent.”

I groaned slumping down to the floor, “This was all a mistake.” The last thing I heard before ending the call was rustling around as if Jensen was moving from his bed.

My phone slipped from my hand as tears streamed down my face. I closed my eyes allowing my inner voices to consume me. Dragging me down into the darkness.

“You fool! Here I stood guarding you from this and still you allowed someone in. You deserve what is coming to you!”

“You useless piece of nothing! You’re the biggest joke this world ever created. Fat, ugly, even your body can’t do the one basic thing god made it to do. You’re worthless. Sucking up air that could be used on someone contributing to the world. No matter what anyone says you will always be the biggest failure in this world. You. Are. Nothing.”

I felt someone tapping on my shoulder and I tightened myself into a ball, “Go away Sami.”

The tapping continued and I reached out grasping an unfamiliar hand. My eyes snapped open and were met with concerning, piercing olive eyes. The eyes I stared at for hours on my TV. The eyes I wrote about in hundreds of thousands of words online.

As soon as my eyes opened he withdrew his hand and my heart sank further into darkness, “I told you. He will never want to touch your disgusting body.” The snide voice of my inner self whispered.

“(Y/N), please hear me out. Please for five minutes just listen to my side.” He sat across from me leaving a foot of distance between us.

I nodded looking up as Sami gently touched his shoulder, “I will be just outside if you need me.”

He waited for the door to close to start talking. His large hands rubbing against his cotton covered thighs.

“I started reading your masterlist on Tumblr and couldn’t get enough of your stories. I didn’t know exactly how to work Tumblr so Misha showed me how. I noticed you don’t get a lot of notes and I wanted everyone to notice you. I started sharing your work with everyone after sending you that message.”

He paused for a moment as I fidget with the hem of my shirt, “Why did you message me?”

His smile was more radiant in person, “It’s just as I said. I loved your work and I wanted to be friends. However, the more I got to know you… the more I wanted to meet you in person. I knew that would be problematic.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” I scoffed looking down to my hands.

He inhaled a deep breath, “You connect with Dean Winchester the same way I do. To find someone like that is a once in a lifetime chance. I want someone who I can gush over Dean with because soon I won’t be hanging out with him as much and he’s the best imaginary friend I’ve ever had.”

Seeing Jensen open himself up to me was creating a battle of mind and body within me. He was just as nervous as I was to open up to someone else. Suddenly, I did not feel so alone in my isolation. My hand trembled as I reached over placing it atop of his.

“Dean Winchester saved my life and I don’t mean that figuratively. I was on the verge of leaping into darkness when I found him getting Sammy to find their dad. I found the strength to carry on because I knew that was what Dean would do. I found that being broken wasn’t a bad thing but something that could drive you to keep working. Dean helped me to feel again when I had become numb to the world around me.”

His eyes shined as I spoke trying to hold back his own tears, “I’m glad he could be there for you when you needed him the most.”

“Then you came into my life when I least expected it.” I whispered as I squeezed his hand.

My mind was screaming at me to get as far away from him as I possibly could. To call out to Sami to make him leave and move out of the state disappearing from the world. However, my body was urging me to jump into his arms. To open myself up to him as he had done with me. I felt like a spring coil ready to snap. My mind was holding my body back waiting for my consciousness to make a decision.

And she did.

I launched myself into his arms startling him as we crashed to the floor. His arms instinctively wrapped around me as mine encircled his neck. The door flew open as Sami came rushing in as Jensen’s laughter filled the room. I hugged him tighter to me as he tightened his grip around me.

“Oh my god… (Y/N), you’re hugging him.”

I did not need to open my eyes to know tears were slipping down my best friend’s cheeks. Her voice was thick with utter joy and amazement.

“Does this hug mean that you don’t hate me?” His question caught me off guard.

Jensen’s hands kept me in place as he sat up swinging my legs across his. My arms are still around his neck not wanting to lose the connection. Now that my body was against his, it flooded with the strange feeling of desire. Sami joined them on the floor sitting cross legged in front of them.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you. Though I’m still upset you lied to me.” I rested my head on my arm and against the side of his neck.

Feeling him sigh and seeing Sami grinning, I knew this was a big moment for all of us. We sat on the floor for another hour talking before Jensen had to go back to his room to get ready for the day. Neither of us wanted to let go of the other. He hugged me one last time before walking out of the suite. When I turned around I was immediately engulfed into another hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” Sami squealed.

“Thanks, I think…” My sentence drifted and she pulled away from me.

I walked back toward the bed and flopped face first onto it. I felt her crawl up on the bed beside me knowing me well enough to give me space.

“Talk it out, (Y/N). What are you feeling?”

My cheeks burned from the first feeling to pop into my head, “I feel warm, anxious, happy...” I paused gathering the courage to say the last word, “desire.”

“I’m sorry, what was that last one?” Sami eagerly asked.

I sat up, “Desire.” Saying the very word felt weird.

She began to clap and raised her hands in the air, “Praise the lord!”

“Don’t get all weird about it. I don’t know what any of this means. My body is tingling…”

Sami interrupted, “I bet it does…”

“Shut up, mostly not in that way. I don’t know how to act around other people anymore. What is too much touching? What is too little? What does a hug mean? I have too many questions and all the answers just walked out the door.”

I looked over as my phone chimed seeing a message from Ross, “I guess I need to change that now.” I murmured as I pulled up his message.

“First, thank you for trusting me with a hug. It means the world to me. I wanted to know if you wanted to have an early lunch with me? We could eat in my room or restaurant or your room with Sami. Whatever you are most comfortable with. Let me know.”

I held my phone up for Sami to read and she jumped off the bed, “You can have our room. I will go entertain myself by the pool.”

I texted him back that he could come to my room as Sami began tossing clothes out on the bed, “What are you doing?”

“Finding you the perfect outfit. Now go shower so I can play dress up with you.” She clapped her hands excitedly as I groaned loudly.

Looking in the mirror again, I pulled at the shirt clingy to every soft, round surface of my waist. I pushed my stomach watching as it bounced back into place like jello. Turning to the side, I sucked as many rolls as I could inward, holding my breath. The air rushed from my lips as a knock came from the door. Making my way towards it, I grabbed my zip-up hoodie slipping my arms in it quickly.

“Hi.” The word came out more breathlessly than I wanted.

My inner voice whispering, “Yeah fatty, let him know that walking across the room makes you lose your breath.”

“Hey there, I hope you don’t mind that I went ahead and grabbed lunch for us.” Jensen held up a paper bag from a local sandwich spot.

As he walked in, I took a moment to truly admire him. He looked like a male model in his tight dark jeans, black boots, dark olive Henley and sunglasses resting on top of his unruly, sandy brown hair. His smooth voice caught my attention.

“You could take a picture and it would last longer.” He chuckled sitting down on the couch and laying out their lunch.

I sat on the opposite side of him as far away as I could. Even though my body desperately wanted to be closer to him, I kept my distance not pushing my mental capacity. He glanced over a hint of disappointment in his eyes seeing me so far away.

Jensen slid a sandwich towards me, “I remember you telling me that you love ham and swiss with tomato.”

“Thank you.” I unwrapped the sandwich and grabbed a bag of chips.

We ate in silence as a strange tension built between us. My stomach churning to the point I could no longer eat. I would look over to him out of the corner of my eye to find his eyes drifting over me. I wrapped my hoodie around me instinctively trying to hide the imperfections.

“There’s no hoodie big enough to hide your ugliness.” The familiar voice whispered.

I shook my head when I heard music playing, looking back to Jensen. He smiled sheepishly as he set his phone on the table.

“I thought maybe some background noise would help,” He stood up clearing the food from the table then stood in front of me with his hand out, “Trust me?”

His eyes were shining from the afternoon rays of sun coming from the window and his lips were spread in a gentle smile. I exhaled slowly allowing all the tension to leave my body and placed my hand in his. He pulled me up from the couch taking my hands and placing them behind his neck. His large hands slid down my sides to my hips and I flinched.

“You do know that you’re beautiful, right?” He whispered swaying my body with the music.

I shook my head, “I’m really not. Ordinary at best.”

Jensen lifted my chin, piercing (Y/C/E) meeting , “You are far from ordinary, (Y/N).”

“You’re just being kind.” I looked away as he slowly turned us in a circle.

The music continued but Jensen stopped moving, “I have so many questions but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or have you running to the hills.”

“Questions for me? Surely, you have better things to do with your time other than sitting inside with me. Don’t you have fans to entertain?” I smirked.

He chuckled, “Lucky for you, I happen to have the day off. I normally spend the day with my family. However this year they all ditched me.”

I mockingly acted shocked, “Oh no! You poor thing.”

His eyes narrowed in on me before laughing, “My mom and dad are somewhere in Spain enjoying their anniversary gift. My sister decided a girls trip with her best friends was better than hanging with me for the day. My brother is always busy with his family. You’re stuck with me.”

“I guess there’s worse ways to spend my day. Okay, ask away but I’m not promising I’ll answer them all.”

Jensen led me back to the couch, but kept ahold of my hand as we sat back down. He laced his long fingers with mine. His thumb brushing over my knuckle. I settled back against the couch once again wrapping my hoodie around me.

“What were you thinking when I put my hands on your hips earlier?”

I bit my lower lip, “I was mortified that you were touching my squish rolls of skin. I was thinking you must be disgusted by it.”

“Wow…” He squeezed my hand, “Whoever he was he really did a number on you. If I ask his name and address would you be against me and Jared beating the crap out of him?”

A genuine burst of laughter echoed in the room, “He’s really not worth it. Plus, he is much happier with his life now and that’s all that matters. He deserves to be happy.”

I was surprised to see Jensen face scrunched up in anger, “But you don’t?” He leaned in slightly, his features softening.

“No, I don’t.” The words came out without even a second thought and seeing Jensen recoil from them as if they had slapped him in the face twisted my heart.

His tongue darted out over his lips and the electrical energy between us sparked wildly, “You’re wrong. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Any man who told you otherwise is no man at all.”

He was leaning in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. My heart pounding in my ears and my body urging me to meet him in the middle. His forehead pressed against mine and his nose caressed mine.

“I’m going to kiss you.” he whispered.

“I don’t think I remember how to kiss back.” The pathetic confession was followed by a wayward tear slipping down my cheek.

His soft, full lips pressed gently against mine. My mind searched for the file within the long abandoned cabinets for how to kiss someone. He pulled away for a split second only to return his lips to mine. I found my lips pushing against his out of basic instinct. Our lips melded together for a moment before I felt him smile against mine.

His hands cupping my face, “I think it will all come back to you easier than you may think.”

I took in a deep breath letting it out in a short burst, “I think you believe in me too much for only meeting me a few hours ago.”

Jensen was still holding my face as he leaned back, “Other than Jared and Mish, I have never felt closer to anyone, but you.”

“You have your work cut out for you then,” I pointed to my head, “because it’s a nightmarish mess up in here.”

He leaned in kissing me once again, “You are worth every second of being with you because you’re stunning, smart, talented, caring and most of all you’re beautiful inside and out.”

I stared up at him speechless as my inner guard laid down her shield, “I like this one.”

“No… no one has ever said that about me. I-I don’t know what to say or how to react.” I stammered, unable to comprehend what he said.

He smiled widely, “Get used to that feeling because I’m preparing for you to feel that way a lot. Now, I don’t want to test your boundaries too much so I think we should hang out here and watch a movie.”

Jensen moved to the end of the couch resting his arm along the back of it and propping his feet on the table. For the first time in forever, there were no inner voices to keep me from doing what I desperately wanted. I moved over next to him resting my back into his side and stretching my legs out to the other end of the couch. His arm draped over the front of my chest and his fingertips brushed against my side.

This time there was no flinching and I smiled at the small victory.

The rest of the weekend was like a dream. Seeing the convention backstage, meeting all the rest of the other actors on the show and most of all Jensen’s constant touch comforted me throughout it all. Sami beaming with pride as I pushed myself to be in the crowd for the concert on Saturday. When Sunday came, I found myself riddled with sadness knowing I would have to leave this magical weekend behind.

Sami had decided to go back to the hotel while I waited for Jensen to finish his autographs. I had noticed Clif, the boys’ friend and bodyguard, staying close by me. When the last fan left the autograph room, he motioned for me to follow him. Entering the room, I found Jensen with his head down on his table while Jared and Misha were fooling around at theirs.

Walking up, I slid my hands over his shoulders and began rubbing the knots out of them. A small groan escaping his lips sent a wave of desire over my body. I moved my hands down his back eagerly wanting to hear him again.

“Hey, if you’re giving free massages away I’ll take one!” Jared called out.

Jensen’s head snapped up, “Don’t even think about it Padalecki. Her hands are too precious for your sweaty self.”

I chuckled as he stood up letting my hands drift down his back. I knew he was fit but his body was firm and lean in all the right spots. As he moved away I found my fingers stretching out to touch him again. All weekend I had found myself craving his touch. My mind was obsessively thinking about his hand in mine or my arms around his waist or his hands gripping my hips. My cheeks felt like they were on fire and I heard him chuckle.

“You okay? You kind of spaced out for a moment.”

I nodded smiling, “I’m great. Just thinking was all.”

“Well come on, you and I can grab something to eat then hang out in my room.” His arm slipped around my shoulders and instantly I relaxed into his embrace.

Dinner was unexpectedly crashed by Jared and Misha tagging along. We found a twenty-four hours diner near the hotel that was nearly empty and we all spent a few hours talking, laughing. I could not help the sadness creeping over me as the minutes passed by. Minutes I was losing to have Jensen to myself. As if he read my mind he excused us to head back to the hotel.

We walked in silence, hand in hand. Stepping into the elevator, he pulled me into his side and I wrapped my arms around his waist. His room was on the opposite end of the same hall as mine. Stepping inside, the door clicking shut as we stood across from one another. It was like a shotgun going off as Jensen closed the distance between us. His hands sliding down my body as his mouth crashed to mine.

As suddenly as it happened, it was over.

“I’m sorry… shit. (Y/N) I’m really sorry.” His pleads confused me for a moment.

Breathing heavily as he stepped back further from me I blurted out, “W-Why are you apologizing? D-Did I do something wrong?”

His dark forest eyes snapped up, “You do something… you didn’t do anything but be you, (Y/N). I just couldn’t stop myself. This weekend has been the best one in my life. Being around you, holding your hand, kissing you has rejuvenated me. I just want more of you, all of you. Simple looks you give, the way you hold yourself and the moment you open yourself up to reach out to me. I just found myself unable to hold back anymore. I know…”

This time it was me who closed the distance between us. My lips crashing into his. My hands running up his broad chest and into his soft hair. The soft moan escaping my lips as we parted.

“I want you to have me…” I whispered in between breaths, “I’m nervous with a bunch of what ifs running in my head.”

“Do you trust me?” The corner of his lip curling upward.

“Yes.”

Jensen took my hand leading me into the bedroom of his suite. He gently picked me up and sat me on the bed. He knelt in front of me, slipping my shoes from my feet then pulling my socks off. His thumbs pressing into the bottom of my feet as I began to giggle.

“Oh… now that is an amazing sound. I must hear that again.” He smirked, tickling my feet.

I fell back in a fit of giggles as Jensen’s laughter joined mine. I leaned up on my elbows looking down at Jensen resting his chin on my knee. He lifted his brows asking permission and I nodded. His hands drifted over my calves, up to my knees and over my thighs.

“You have incredible legs. I found myself staring at them as you would walk in front of me with Sami. Wondering how they would feel beneath my hands.” He gently squeezed them near my hips.

His knee pressed into the mattress between my legs as his firm body hovered over mine. My fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt pushing it up and hesitantly touching his stomach. Jensen sucked in a quick breath as his hands paused on his hips. I focused on the feeling of his smooth, warm skin beneath my fingertips. His flat stomach is surprisingly soft.  

I grasped the end of his shirt pulling it towards his head as he pulled back allowing it over his head. Taking it from my hands, he tossed it on the floor. I took in every inch of his skin from his muscles flexing to the freckles decorating it.

“You beautiful, you know that?” I did not think he heard me until I saw the smug smirk on his face.

He leaned down kissing me, “Stealing my lines, sweetheart.”

His hands went back to my hips as his lips left a trail of kisses down my neck, “You think that your softness is revolting, but I find it inviting.”

I froze as his hand pushed up into my shirt touching my stomach. I squirmed as he pushed my shirt up just under my bra. My hands threading through his hair as his lips pressed small kisses against my stomach.

“Jensen…” The tension in my tone caught his attention.

His eyes filled with worry, “Too much?”

I took a few deep breaths and shook my head, “I’m fine, promise.”

“See there you go, being brave and pushing yourself. You have no idea how sexy that is.” He murmured against my skin.

As Jensen’s mouth neared the waistband of my jeans, I tugged his hair motioning for him to come back up to her. He smiled randomly kissing spots along my body. His lips finally met mine as I slid my arms around him. His tongue swiped across my bottom lip as they parted for him. His gentleness and care to make me comfortable broke down the last existing wall of defense.

Their kiss deepened. My body burned with a need to feel Jensen’s skin against mine and to be close to him in every way physically possible. Foreign pressure began to simmer deep within me and I lifted my hips pressing them against his thigh.

He pulled away his eyes blown with passion searching mine for an answer to a silent question.

“Please… take away everything he did. I want to feel whole again.” I pleaded just above a whisper.

His lips were on mine again as he gently lifted me up further onto his bed. Sitting up, I pulled my shirt over my head holding it in front of me for a brief moment. His eyes watching my every move as I tossed it over the side. He reached behind me with one hand unclasping my bra in one swift movement.

I kissed his collarbone as he leaned in to do so, “Show off.”

He chuckled before leaning back and allowing me at my pace to unveiling my bare chest to him. I slid the straps down my arms holding it in place before playfully tossing it at him chuckling. Joking had always been my way of dealing with uncomfortable moments. When I looked up his eyes were drifting down my bare upper body.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He smirked as I rolled my eyes at him, “Seriously, (Y/N)... you’re absolutely stunning.”

He ran his hand down my chest, between my breasts and down to my jeans. He undid the button and slowly drew down the zipper. Hooking his fingers with a belt loops dragging my jeans down my legs. I shivered as the cool air hit my skin. Jensen tossed them off to the side then began to place gentle, open mouth kisses up my leg.

My breaths were coming out in small little puffs the further up my leg he got. His mouth hovered over her cotton cover mound inching closer to it. My teeth dug into my lip desperately wanting him to press them against me. Instead he kept his path up my body stopping at my breasts. He cupped the side of one running his thumb over my nipple.

A long sigh escaping my lips from just the slightest touch from him, “O-Oh… Jensen…” His mouth had gently suckled my other nipple, the pressure turning to an ache between my legs.

“You have no idea hearing my name from your lips does to me.” He softly said before circling my nipple with his tongue.

Feeling bold, I slid my hand down between us running it along the hard bulge being restrained by denim. Jensen sucked in a sharp breath dropping his head between my breasts, “Shit…”

“I believe I have some kind of an idea.” I smiled as he grinded himself against my palm.

He stood up at the edge of the bed, his intense stare making me tremble with anticipation. Leaning forward, his fingers hooked the sides of her cotton panties and pulled them down until they were on the floor.

“Exquisite, flawless, perfect.”

“As are you.” I sat up until I was sitting on the edge in front of him.

My hands trembled as I unbuttoned his jeans and carefully unzipped them. Jensen let out a soft hiss as I brushed against his length. His hands cupped my face pulling my lips to his urgently kissing me. I pushed his jeans and boxers down as far as I could before he pushed me back onto the mattress. His hand drifting down my body until his fingers pressed against my folds.

“Jensen, please…” I begged needing to feel any kind of relief from the pressure pulsating from between my legs, “Ohhh… god.”

Jensen began to rub lazy circles against my clit. My hips grinding against his hand as his lips pressed just below my ear, “Are you okay?”

His question sober me from the drunken stupor of desire and I placed my hand over his pushing down further, “More than okay.”

Jensen pushed one long finger deep inside me with a hiss, “Fuck pretty girl, your so tight.” He slowly pushed a second finger inside.

My head pressed against the mattress, my back arching as he pumped his thick fingers in me, “More, oh please Jensen, I need more.”

His pace picked up and I looked up to his face. His eyes wide and dark watching me come undone as his thumb rubbed harshly against my throbbing clit, “Jensen!” I cried out overwhelming pleasure wrecked through my body.

Breathing heavily, my body shaking slightly as he pulled his fingers from me, “Now that was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

A slow grin spread across my face as I pulled his mouth to mine. He positioned himself between my legs pulling away slightly, his lips grazing against mine.  

“Are you sure? We can stop if you want.” Jensen’s tone was tense as I felt his length resting against my folds.

I kissed him, “I need you. All of you.”

He braced himself up with one arm as his hand slipped between us. Jensen ran the swollen head along my slickness before nudging it against my entrance. The room filled with groans and heavy breaths as Jensen slowly sheathed himself within me. There was a singe of pain as I stretched taking him his thick length but quickly was replaced with immense pleasure as he thrusted gently into me.

“So. Tight.” He panted against my cheek.

I wrapped my arms and legs around him digging my heels into him. Each stroke pushing me further to the edge. Feeling every muscle straining along his back and arms. His head buried in the crook of my neck grunting almost painfully. I knew then he was holding back.

I pressed my lips to his ear, “Jensen, I won’t break. You’re making me feel incredible, but I want you to let go. Show me how I make you feel.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest as he nipped at my neck and his hips snapped against me. The echoes of our skin meeting, loving praises and the headboard against the wall filled the room. I started to meet each thrust of his, the coil within me ready to snap. His hands were gripping my shoulders holding me against his burning body. I clung to him scraping my nails against his back making him growl again.

“Shit Jensen, I’m so close. Just a little more, oh god please!” I beg as he thrusted into me feverishly small grunts coming from him, “Yes, yes, oh… Jensen!”

My whole body was shaking as an intense wave of euphoria covered me. Pulsating around him, he abandoned all control chasing his own release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He gritted his teeth as his body went rigid before slamming into me his length twitching deep within me, “Holy shit…”

Jensen rode out his release, his arms shaking to the point he could not hold himself up anymore. I groaned as he pulled out leaving me empty. He rolled onto his back breathing heavily as I curled into his side burying my head into his chest.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His concern only made me cling to him more.

I shook my head, “No, I’m just overwhelmed. Too many feelings at once.”

“Talk it out. Tell me what you’re feeling.” Jensen wrapped his arms around me holding me close.

I took a deep breath, “I’m feeling exhilaration, bliss, pleasure. Right now, I’m feeling empty and it’s almost like I can’t breath. I feel scared by how much I need to feel your touch.”

His fingers were drawing small circles against my bare back, “If that’s your way of asking for round two, you’re going to have to wait for a little bit. I haven’t come like that since I was a teenager.”

There was a brief moment of silence before I started to laugh. My body shaking from the laughter pouring from my lips. I kissed his chest, “Thank you.”

“You never need to thank me. It’s my honor to make you laugh. Bring your pleasure. Praise you for your beautifulness. More importantly, always holding you close to me.”

I entwined my legs with his as he pulled the sheet over our naked bodies. Just when I thought he was about to fall asleep, I slipped my hand over his soft member then pressed my lips just under his chin.

“Round two?”

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[spookyseraphs]

supernatural and the x-files (specifically destiel and msr) parallels

this was intended to convert my spn friends to txf and my txf friends to spn and then it got out of hand. i got tired of finding sources for everything, so you’ll just have to trust me, i’m an expert on both subjects.

cas=scully

cas/scully's faith in god vs dean/mulder being non-believers (but believing in the other) (spn) (txf)

cas being the healer, scully being a doctor (spn) (txf)

cas is supposed to guard the michael sword but falls in love vs scully sent to debunk the x-files but falls in love (spn) (txf) 

cas and scully are both immortal (spn) (txf) (also)

cas/scully's families hate dean/mulder (spn) (txf)

cas/scully coming to believe in humanity/the paranormal (spn) (txf)

i'm an angel vs i'm a medical doctor (spn doesn’t have a compilation)   (txf)

they’re not like... the best drivers

hello dean vs mulder it’s me (spn) (txf)

dean=mulder

dean/mulder's fucked up fathers (spn) (txf)

dean/mulder's eldest child syndrome and their unhealthy need to protect their younger sibling (spn) (txf)

dean/mulder being the best in their respective fields (hunting and criminal profiling) and being well known for it

dean/mulder and their porn habits (spn) (txf)

no one has ever hated themselves the way dean and mulder hate themselves (spn) (txf)

dean and mulder both have issues with fire (spn) (txf)

both die, get buried, and then come back

sunflower seeds vs pie

also they both hate nazis (spn) (txf)

yellow fever vs war of the coprophages  (spn) (txf)

ship parallels

blue and green eyes (hazel is close enough)

for some reason theres a pizza man parallel? (spn) (pt 2) (txf) (pt 2)

mulder/krycek vs dean/crowley (spn) (txf) (also)

cas/hannah vs scully/pendrell (poor hannah and pendrell never stood a chance... and died)

also cas/scully get laid ONE TIME (april/ed jerse) and they almost die because of it and then never do it again (spn) (txf)

vs dean/mulder having plenty of love interests/hookups

cas/scully have never done anything wrong ever

dean/mulder... sigh... i love them... but they've made some questionable decisions (i'm looking at you mulder: fucking the vampire THE EP AFTER SCULLY'S ABDUCTION AND WHILE WEARING HER CROSS and dean, kicking cas out and locking jack in the ma’lak box?? really guys?) (spn) (txf)

creators who think their relationship is platonic despite everyone with eyes saying otherwise (spn) (txf)

also the way that neither were ever written or intended to be romantic

the fandoms were split heavily between shippers and non shippers 

they also both had to have scenes changed because they were being played too romantic

a kiss was cut from the episode memento mori and gillovny were always trying to hold hands (x)

jackles forever wanting to cradle misha's face and the cut i love you from the crypt scene (x)

just... gillovny vs cockles in general, i am not a real person shipper, HOWEVER they are both messy (spn) (txf)

their first meetings? iconic. chemistry? immaculate. dean/mulder are super defensive but tbh cas/scully fell in love at first sight (spn) (txf)

they also had no concept of personal space pretty much immediately (spn) (txf)

they have a baby (that has magic powers) together that they lose twice (jack dies and becomes god, william/jackson is adopted and then as far as they know he dies) (spn) (txf)

cas/scully also have a kind of kid (claire/emily) that dean/mulder are willing to co-parent regardless of the fact that they definitely aren't theirs (spn) (txf)

we get an i love you that still doesn't get taken seriously or make them canon (stuck in the middle (with you) and triangle) (spn) (txf)

dean keeping cas's trenchcoat vs mulder keeping scully's cross (spn) (txf)

they go absolutely batshit when the other is in danger or dies/is dying (spn) (txf)

they're also known and used by their enemies as each other's weaknesses (spn) (txf)

msr being mistaken as a couple vs every angel and demon cracking jokes about destiel being a couple (spn) (txf)

skinner and sam just off to the side looking frustrated while msr and destiel are having a couples moment (spn) (txf)

eating each others food (spn) (txf)

appreciating each others interests (spn) (and this one) (txf)

parallels except the roles are swapped

dreamland/small potatoes vs casifer, i just think scully/dean should have realized IMMEDIATELY (spn) (txf)

mulders fight the future speech vs cas's confession (spn) (txf)

they should have kissed and didn't

it almost ambiguously canonizes them both

AND THE SECRET TAPES, the most famous msr kiss isn't an actual canon kiss, it's a blooper of gillian and david making out in front of the camera (two different times) and it wasn't scripted it was literally just them messing around (x)

this is me manifesting jackles dropping the tapes and those tapes having the same energy

they just really love each other (spn) (txf)

non ship/general parallels

leyla harrison vs becky rosen being fandom stand ins (spn) (txf)

they were supposed to end on season 5

Good but bad (absolutely iconic) sci-fi shows

they both had two finales which both sucked

they shared soooo many cast and crew and both filmed in vancouver

they're such similar shows, motw/story episodes, the funny and serious episodes, dealing with the paranormal, they're basically siblings

also siblings in the way that they handle racism, misogyny and consent/rape/bodily autonomy

the supernatural book series vs the movie made about mulder and scully (spn) (txf)

mystery spot vs monday (spn) (txf)

tall tales vs bad blood  (spn) (txf)

 the benders vs home (spn) (txf)

why did both shows use live bees??? (spn) (txf)

the fbi's most wanted and the fbi's most unwanted (also everyone involved looks cute as fbi agents) (spn) (look how cute!) (txf) (cuties!!)

the syndicate vs heaven and the cigarette smoking man vs god

the bunker vs the basement office

every single side character on both shows deserved better!!! most of them literally didn't need to die!!! and i'm still angry!!!

the poor brothers adam milligan and charlie scully existing and then being literally forgotten about until the last season

the fandoms living for things cut from the scripts (spn) (txf)

team free will vs mulder, scully, and skinner

these ones are shippy, but more my opinion than factual

both pairs just keep getting traumatic events dumped on them for absolutely no reason

cas/scully both have major exasperated why do i love this man vibes

absolutely most iconic and slowest slow burn romances of all time and are just the longest games of will they/won't they, baiting, and were never INTENDED to be slow burns

they're always willing to die/kill for each other, however they WILL NOT talk about their feelings under any circumstances

in the field where i died, mulder says that he and scully have been around each other in past lives but never romantically and according to chuck, every other universe's castiel just pulled dean out of hell and listened to his orders

SO in these other lives/universes they were always linked to each other but only in this life/universe do they fall in love

the last seasons really fuck up my favorite characters

dean should not be that shitty to jack OR cas for that matter

and mulder shouldn't have left scully and william (and dearest dana?? DANA?)

and, controversial opinion, but cas/scully could do so much better and deserve so much better but dean/mulder... it's the best they'll ever get

HOWEVER, i feel like their love is MORE powerful BECAUSE cas/scully could do better but they don't want better or normal they want dean/mulder and they will fight to the death for it, it's not the easy choice, it's just what they want

and i say this with all the love in the world for both dean and mulder, but cas could have just followed his orders and returned to heaven like every other version of himself did. scully could have easily found a normal man to settle down and have 2.5 kids with. dean was always going to be stuck in chuck's plans, and mulder absolutely could not just go find a wife to settle down with.

cas/scully put up with SO MUCH SHIT from dean/mulder, while being ALWAYS FAITHFUL to them, it was never the easy option to love these men and stay by their sides, it was hard and they worked for it!!!

they’re both the greatest love story ever told, they tied

[digital-dhampirs]

Vanitas no Carte Book 8 Cover: A Flowernalysis

A new cover is out and it’s just as beautiful as we could have dreamed. there’s a lot to analyze about this lovely cover so here we go!

The most interesting thing about this cover to me is Dominique’s expression and posture. She’s being pulled by thorns back into a mirror showing the one and only Louis. She isn’t resisting exactly, her expression is somehow both troubled and calm, but her sword is up and it looks like she’s about to shatter the mirror that’s pulling her in with it. *offers cocktail like R2D2* anyone remember that one scene with Break inside of Cheshire’s dimension? She’s planning an attack, but she hasn’t gone through with it. She’s almost submitting.

I’m also quite interested in what else is in the mirror besides Louis. The shadowed part of the mirror isn’t there because it’s Domi’s shadow— it looks like there’s a shadow next to Louis. My first thought was “maybe teacher”, but it looks a solid bit like Naenia.We know that Naenia likes to show people around her visions of their worst memories (Dante sees himself being ostracized for being a dham, Vani seems to see something from his past as well) or hallucinations of their darkest thoughts (Noé)— so it would make sense for Naenia to show Domi a vision of Louis.

Before we get into the interesting color scheme here, let’s take a quick look at the flowers on this cover (I haven’t done many of these analyses since book 4 since there actually haven’t been many covers with flowers on them— Astolfo’s has plants and pomegranates though, so look out for a book 6 cover analysis sometime).

Unlike the flowers on Vanitas’s mirror/ frame/ it’s mirror, right? the flowers surrounding Dominique’s mirror are absolutely roses (I think— they’re sharp and fold like roses would, and they have the serrated leaves like roses). Roses are the stereotypical flowers of love, and it would make sense for the love struck Dominique to be surrounded by them. Today, yellow roses specifically have a variety of different meanings, such as joy, friendship, and “welcome home”.... but in Victorian times, they had extremely negative meanings and were associated with jealousy, infidelity, and decrease in love. Domi is also surrounded by thorns, a symbol of suffering, sorrow, and hardship.

All in all, this combination of flowers seems to hint to some very non- fun times for mademoiselle Dominique. The presence of yellow roses seems to some trouble in her relationship with Noé— but they could also have something to do with Jeanne, and Domi’s sudden realization that Jeanne is nothing like her. Or they could symbolize something else entirely..!

And now, on to the color scheme..! There are only four colors used in the entire cover, but the most predominant two are yellow/gold and black. Interestingly yellow is frequently used to symbolize unrequited love— what better a choice for Dominique? Black, meanwhile, is often associated with mourning— which doesn’t seem too strange either. But what’s interesting about these colors is that Dominique’s hair and clothes, shown in black or grey, seem to be fading into yellow. Yellow is also a color associated with decay— could this be a sign of Dominique’s dark turn as a result of whatever the hell Misha’s been doing?

Another interesting thing about this color scheme is the way the yellow of the frame and the yellow Domi seems to be fading into is the exact same color. Mochijun has been branching out in the coloration of the mirrors/ frames on her book covers (books 5, 6, and 7 all have non- golden mirrors) but the first four books of the manga all feature golden mirrors. Mochijun seems to have avoided the color yellow in each of those covers, except as a feature in Jeanne’s image, and limited the yellow- gold color to just the frame.

However, all of a sudden for book 8 Mochijun brings back the golden frame. And unlike in all the previous covers, she uses the color yellow extensively. What could this suggest?

Personally, I think this use of the color suggests that Dominique isn’t just being held captive by the mirror’s thorns— she’s being trapped by herself.

So far in the manga covers, yellow as a color has been used for one thing and one thing only— the frames/ mirrors (also for Jeanne’s eyes but that’s besides the point). Dominique has a golden mirror, but her hair is also fading into that same gold— her hair becomes a frame around her. Dominique’s mirror is trapping her and pulling her in, but her hair shows that she isn’t being trapped unwillingly— she’s willing to be trapped. She could escape under her own power, but because of some internal issue of struggle, she is simultaneously unwilling and unable to do so. She’s trapped there by her own mind.

This is where it all comes full circle. The use of yellow in Dominique’s clothes and hair suggests that she is unwilling to leave the mirror, that the mirror trapping her is made up of her very being. Her posture, the way she’s holding her sword, shows that she’s able to attack, but hasn’t. It would be easy for her to smash the mirror, but she hasn’t. Dominique is here against her will, but she’s staying here willingly.

We don’t know what’s going on with Dominique. If she’s been killing vampires, what Misha did to her, why Misha’s holding her captive. But something very wrong is going on here. Whatever’s happening, it’s almost as if Domi is letting it happen.