#but idc i want to write for them anyway

[unforth]

Oooo, can I scratch at your door like a hungry cat and yell for Dean/Cas/Jimmy? As prompt, waking up hungover/disoriented after a night out partying and puzzling out wtf is going on and who all those limbs are attached to.

always for you, hun. <3

oh and wait this is poly, and today is free day for @polyshipweek! I am totally going to pretend this is intentional. It's been so long since I've managed to do ANY prompt days, much less two for one event!

(twincest tw, incest tw, deanjimstiel, modern au, rated Mature. unedited.)

Dean woke up slowly, squinching his face to try to remember how his muscles worked. Judging by the disgusting, cotton-mouthed feel in his mouth, he was somewhere between still drunk and hungover, and judging by the roilly, crampy feeling in his stomach, he had the worst sensations of both states. The only good thing was that the bed was warm - not too hot, but definitely not cold. His body ached in pleasant, familiar ways; an unfamiliar hand rested on his hip and two bare legs were sandwiched between his knees. His memory of the previous evening was blurry, but sensation was enough to tell him that he hadn't come home alone, and whoever it was hadn't left yet.

Awesome combination.

Maybe they could wake up to round 2?

Finally, reluctantly, Dean opened his eyes.

Surprise - not his home. His vision was a little fuzzy but unless he'd developed spontaneous colorblindness, or Sam had come over in the last 24 hours and done a surprise remodeling of Dean's bedroom (which. possible.) there had never been a time when his walls were this shade of yellow and his bedding was red.

A blanket-draped mound beside him shifted, rolled a little, and made a muttering sound.

Oddly, the legs Dean could feel didn't move.

Frowning, he forced himself to consciousness enough to catalog his surroundings more thoroughly.

Unfamiliar decor: check.

Last night's one-night-stand-possibly-also-morning-after-fuck lying before him: check.

Hand on his waist, fingers curling as the person before him shifted: check.

Legs against his legs... the knees would be backward if they belonged to the person before him? No check. Definitely uncheck.

Wait...he SHOULD check.

Whatever were words?

Twisting to look behind him dislodged the hand on him, but Dean couldn't spare it any attention as he stared, wide-eyed, at the sex god lying behind him. The blankets were tucked beneath his shoulder, giving Dean a clear view of ruddy skin, morning stubble, and dark hair a mess of spikes and loose tendrils, the remnants of what must have been an actual style the previous evening. Dean was hot - he knew he was - and that he'd find a hot partner wasn't a surprise, but fucking damn, this guy was incredible.

And was only one of the two other people in the bed.

Drunk Dean had scored a threesome.

Way to hit it out of the park, me.

Dean turned back toward his other partner, and was greeted by brilliant blue eyes blinking back at him. The formerly blanket-cloaked figure was now clearly a man, propped up on an elbow, bleary gaze stunningly beautiful as he looked Dean up and down. From his sun-kissed cheeks to his dark hair to his well-past-five-o'clock shadow, he was indistinguishable from the guy lying behind Dean.

No. That couldn't be right.

Dean must be more still-drunk than he realized.

He looked back over his shoulder at hot-as-fuck dude one.

Still looked the same.

He turned back to hot-as-fuck dude two.

Also the same.

The two were so similar that if Dean didn't know better, he'd think the fucking bed had been bisected by a mirror.

But if that was the case, then I'd have been bisected by a mirror, and ew.

Though...if I was getting bisected by him...by THEM...at least I'd die happy.

No wait, what the fuck, brain no.

"Morning, Dean," said sex god the second and hell that voice was incredible, raspy and deep.

"There are two of you?" Dean managed weakly. Very smart. Great job. A+. Definitely perfectly on track to get fucked by the gorgeous guys...the gorgeous identical twins???...again.

"There are," muttered the same voice from behind him. "Is that a problem?"

"You didn't seem to mind last night," said the one in front him. "I'm Cas, by the way."

"Not even when he was dick-deep in me," added the other one. "And - Jimmy."

"Which is honestly unusual," admitted...hell, Dean couldn't even keep track. They traded dialogue between them so easily that he felt like he was in the world's best fucking echo chamber.

Fucking echo chamber? A chamber of fucking echos? An echo that fucks?

Oh hell, I am definitely still too drunk for this.

"That sounds hot," Dean muttered in a low rumble. "Wish I could remember."

"Really?" Whichever one had spoken sounded genuinely surprised.

"I mean, we could arrange a replay if you mean it..."

"You don't know how fricken rare it is to find a partner who is truly cool with it... with us..."

"I'll own, I was a little worried you were only so into it because you were so smashed that sometimes you seemed to think you were seeing double."

"Waking up with you still here is. reassuring."

"And--"

"Stop talking," Dean groaned. It was too much goddamn noise, beautiful, spectacular, tempting, perfect noise. "So, you fuck each other."

"Frequently."

"And...who fucked me?"

"Both of us," came the smug answer.

"And you're cool with, uh, 'replaying' that this morning?"

"If you are," they agreed simultaneously.

"Oh, hell yeah," said Dean. "Hell, if you want, maybe we can put this show into syndication..."

The laughter that surrounded him was gorgeous.

"It's a little early for commitment..." allowed...Jimmy? Maybe? Was Jimmy the one behind him?

"...but I think I speak for both of us when I say, there's at least a chance for renewal..."

And four hands enveloped Dean, touching his face, his back, his belly, his ass.

"Fuck yeah...let's get this show on the road..." he groaned. His half-drunk hangover was suddenly a world away.

"On one condition," said maybe-Jimmy.

"Anything," Dean said breathily.

"Drop the episode jokes..." maybe-Cas said.

"So...this gig has jumped the shark?"

"Just. Stop. Talking."

"Make me."

And they did.

And, fuck, was Dean sure he was in for the run of his life with these two...

(Oops this got long. *sweat drop*)

(send me a ship and a very short prompt like a genre/trope/kink/setting and I'll supposedly write a three sentence ficlet that'll actually be way longer than three sentences.)

[abstractfrog]

Happy 1 year anniversary to Mr Sherlock Holmes! Here's a litttleee celebratory comic from me

[sunnibits]

potentially hot take but this is a pet peeve of mine

[callsignfangs]

I literally just CANT when people write about Alex but not Farah?? like how can you write about him but not the woman he was completely ready to sacrifice his life for??????

(HE LITERALLY WALKED INTO THAT ROOM CONVINCED HE WOULDNT COME BACK OUT DONT EVEN TALK TO ME THEY TEAR ME TO PIECES. HE JUST WANTED HER APPROVAL. LITERALLY ONE WORD AND HE WALKED INTO A BUILDING SET TO GO BOOM. AND HE LOST A LEG BC OF IT. AND PROCEEDED TO STAY WITH FARAH??? AND HER BROTHERS N SISTERS?!???????? IM IN TEARS I LOVE THEM SO MUCH PLEASE)

[szept-sosna]

if i wrote a deep introspective fic about nancy and potato and their relationship with affection would i be burned alive? bc their tag on ao3 is barren! BARREN I TELL YOU

[dweetwise]

The only dbd shipping chart I care about

[booksandmore]

i like zhaoven as a concept but in a very specific divorced/were-never-meant-to-be way/different-ideologies-mixed-up-with-tragic-gay-pining kinda way but ESPECIALLY in relation to xiaoven

because imagine you're just going about you Totally Normal Human Day Life and your son/mentee/subordinate/general/college/little brother thing is like "oh yeah i met someone" and your Delighted because that's your son/mentee/subordinate/general/college/little brother and you want him to be happy and he needs to go out more! so you suggest meeting this person he's seeing expecting like maybe some rando human/vision bearer/even some other supernatural being, whatever, you don't know what to expect, but then your exhusband/failed situationship/frenemy Thing just fucking waltzes right in even though he walked out of your life centuries ago only to be never heard from again from either you OR the nation he's supposed to be in charge of and you're like "wtf?? ur alive??" but you cant tell your son/mentee/subordinate/general/college/little brother not to go out with him because a.) you're the one who told him to go out in the first place and if you discourage this he might literally become an overworked hermit and die and also b.) your exhusband/failed situationship/frenemy Thing was never really a bad partner you were just bad for each other so your try to be supportive and polite but it is Literally Impossible to feel normal about this but you are Trying except your little shit of an exhusband/failed situationship/frenemy Thing keeps being passive aggressive which is just unfair because YOUR the victim here? hello?? and your kinda hurt that he never bothered to look for you after he came back (not that you'd ever want to get back together you'd rather DIE for real) even tho you understand that they have that weird music backstory thing going on but still it kinda hurts yk but your exhusband/failed situationship/frenemy Thing literally like "omfg i though you were dead and i was the last person alive from our friendgroup?" which is Besides The Point Okay so you keep trying to extend an olive branch and he keeps being like "no fuck off??" and while this is happening xiao is there in a corner trying not to combust

[bonetrousledbones]

juist submitted my last final project for the semester

[byanyan]

laira schmitt, with love, always. / emily berry, the numbers game / p.d / unknown / cowboyvamp

[francy-sketches]

People complaining that jon and dany didn't have kids in s8 is so silly to me bc the idea of a reanimated corpse being able to reproduce is just. if it happens in the books I'm gonna piss myself

[thiefofcrows]

Hey y'all, I've CHANGED UP MY RULES HERE, if you'd be so kind as to give them a read!! I really appreciate it!!

[toestalucia]

BJKBADJKBJKADBJKBJKADAD........

[astralmarionette]

im currently writing an atsugawa (I hate the name shin soukoku or whatever I'm sorry but I'm actually not. also I cannot pronounce soukoku {this is the real reason I don't use soukoku}) and I don't even ship it lmaoo

[weirdcharacter]

Me seeing Wade Wilson (masked): Such a pretty guy

Me seeing Wade Wilson (partially/ entierely unmasked): So fucking pretty

[nururu]

don't zo/san in front of my salad (on my posts) thanks.. I believe in a thing called love (zo/lu)

[wormgremlin]

I've gotten three unnecessary, unwanted, and ultimately useless hateful comments on my fic in the first 24 hours since posting it. So a quick refresher for people out there:

First, foremost, and most concerning: If someone is in critical condition, unless you have medical training and supplies, HOSPITAL HOSPITAL HOSPITAL. That includes both urgent and emergent triage statuses (in this case, severe blood loss and abdominal wounds going into the abdominal cavity -- intestinal rupture is no joke! Nor is uroabdomen!).

Second of all, I'm sorry if you and your friends have never talked about or looked at each others boobs/chest. Genuinely. On the other hand, me and my friends make fun of each other constantly in good fun and are comfortable enough around each other to talk about our bodies. Your sexually repressed puritanical views have no place in my comments and no place in an irl queer space. Between the two of us, I am not the "weirdo."

Third of all (and whoo boy is this a long one), just because I represent a ship a certain way does not mean I condone their actions in a real life setting. Ffs, I like Hannigram. That means I definitely recommend committing malpractice, non-con drugging, and tubing your crush like a horse. Not To mention cannibalism and framing people for your own serial murders. I'm writing things based on my own experiences and perspective as a queer poc who grew up and got out of a conservative home and state. I'm writing as someone who lives paycheck to paycheck. I write as someone who still fights an internal monologue of shame and repression, of not being good enough, of bitterness and self-loathing making for a critical lens of others. I write as someone who affectionately calls my friends buffoons. As someone who has only ever used terms like "babe" as a derogatory. And I know that isn't for everyone. And I know my experiences aren't universal. But they do shape how I write. And I'm not asking you to like it. I am, however, asking you to consider how your actions affect others and click that back arrow before you say something unnecessary and rude.

Gonna be honest: the slew of asshole comments I've gotten have been more annoying in a "ooh comment oh that's disappointing, look an asshole" way than truly upsetting to me. But I thrive on spite. Not everyone does. For some people, the shit being said would be incredibly hurtful; for me, I thought worse while writing it.

And this bit didn't make the list, but deserves honorable mention: Just because you don't like the way I write something doesn't mean I hate the ship. Yeah. I spent hours of my life writing this and editing it and posting it because I hate it. Sorry, but I'm a full time grad student with a life, a job, and shit to do. I don't have time for ship phishing. I've written more than one fic for this ship, each portraying them a different way. Clearly because I hate the ship?

All of this of course to say:

If you don't like it, write your own, hon.