#campchitaquamemories

[the-haiku-bot]

PLEASE tell me we are

gonna Morbius the fuck out

of these. JFC.

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

[campchitaquamemories]

Gigi (CampChitaquaMemories)’s Giant Fic Rec Post

(Version Date: 7/1/23)

Since Twitter is actually, maybe for real this time, taking it's last gasping breaths, I'm moving this thread over here for archival purposes. Please note that this list is massive, and I will be making no effort to organize it by fandom, pairing, tropes, etc. There's just too much here to collate at the moment.

*Any of these fics could have become archive locked since this post was created. If you attempt to load a fic and get an "oops" page instead, that's almost certainly what happened. Copy the link instead and paste it into the address bar of a browser where you are already signed in to Ao3.

So, What About Those Fic Recs:

Re-Entry / Re-Entry: Journey of the Whills by flamethrower (Star Wars Prequel + Original Trilogy)

A Farm in Iowa by sheafrotherdon (Stargate: Atlantis)

Theft of Assets, Destruction of Property by helenish (Harry Potter)

Down to Agincourt by seperis (Supernatural)

Time After Time by spaceisgay (Star Trek: SNW)

Ain't No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down) by spitandvinegar (MCU)

Embers by Vathara (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Dreaming To Reality by Mouko, Yuki (Digimon Adventure)

freedom's just another word / and the band's playing hail to the chief by synecdochic (Stargate: Atlantis)

The Desert Storm / Rise and Fall by Blue_Sunshine (Star Wars: Prequel Trilogy)

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail by owlet (MCU)

Transposition (The Mathématique Remix Project) by kvikindi (Stargate: SG1 + Atlantis + Universe)

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi (Harry Potter)

Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (MCU + DC)

step out into the sun by plutos (Star Wars: Sequel Trilogy)

The Abdication of Hou-Ting LIV or: How Wu Learned to Stop Being Foolish and Love the Detective by OurImpavidHeroine (Avatar: The Legend of Korra)

A Change in the Weather, by cacophanylights (Glee) (more chapters)

Under the Covers by ToAStranger (Stranger Things)

Of A Linear Circle by flamethrower (Harry Potter)

Another Life by LullabyKnell (Star Trek: AoS)

Way of the Sith by flamethrower (Star Wars: Prequel Trilogy)

paper cranes (upstairs, downstairs) by verity (Stargate: Atlantis)

Performance in a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (BBC Sherlock)

Responsible Science by lettered (MCU)

a turn of the earth by microcomets (Supernatural)

You Don't Have To (Say Yes) by luminousbeings (Star Trek: AoS)

I Sang In My Chains Like The Sea by [orphan_account] (The Hobbit / Pacific Rim)

The Dream of Having No Room by rickyisms (Check Please!)

Where the Heart Is by Nkala99 (The West Wing)

Unidentified by fiercelydreamed (Stargate: Atlantis)

More Things Than Are Dreamt Of by 1electricpirate (BBC Sherlock + Harry Potter)

build your wings on the way down by ShanaStoryteller (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Graduate Vulcan for Fun and Profit by lazulisong (Star Trek: AoS)

Linguistic Ambiguities in Vulcan Ethical Codes by elumish (Star Trek: AoS)

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Appoggiatura by ceeainthereforthat (Supernatural)

Where the Need is Greatest by Niitza (MCU)

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi (Harry Potter)

Spin Control by Trovia (The Hunger Games)

The miner's wife by MockingJayFlyingFree (The Hunger Games)

lay down your sweet and weary head by Elenothar (The Hobbit)

The 1,000 Hour Sleep by spqr (Star Trek: SNW)

A Walk on Part in the War by blue_morning (Supernatural)

Flyboys by aeriallon (MCU + Stargate: Atlantis)

we must unite inside her walls or we'll crumble from within by dirgewithoutmusic (Harry Potter)

Third Time's the Charm by acuteneurosis (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

those who form his fire-side by elumish (The West Wing + Stargate: Atlantis)

the inexhaustible silence of houses by Askance (Supernatural)

A Sign of The Morning by ToEdenandBackAgain (Stranger Things)

Good Idea by spqr (Star Wars: Original Trilogy + The Mandolorian)

mortgage on my body, lien on my soul by ceeainthereforthat (Supernatural)

Ghosts Love Elevators by the commodore_squid (MCU)

Rivals by Reiya (Yuri!!! on Ice)

RVR R011435, by Ferritin4 (Supernatural)

Seven-Year Itch by Idday (Check Please!)

dark horse by aeriallon (Harry Potter)

things happen (they do, they do, and they do) by sobsicles (Supernatural)

Astronomy In Reverse by pansley (MCU)

we are the raven and the ghost by Itar94 (Stargate: Atlantis + His Dark Materials)

Invictus by EllanaSan (The Hunger Games)

Swung by Serafim by flamethrower (Harry Potter)

Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations by elumish (Star Trek: AoS)

put your money where your mouth is 'verse by kototyph (Supernatural)

The Dawn Will Break Before You by thepartyresponsible (MCU + DC)

You're a Story (I Can Follow) by Page161of180 (The Magicians)

Something Like This by emmagrant01 (Check Please!)

wellspring by peacefrog (The Magicians)

No Going Back, No Before by spirkme (Star Trek: OS, AoS, SNW)

Ordinary Life by astolat, Speranza (Stargate: Atlantis)

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets (Supernatural)

Luminous We Are by AppoApples (Star Wars: Prequel Trilogy)

All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (BBC Sherlock)

Never Grow A Wishbone by ShanaStoryteller (Harry Potter)

the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by greatunironic (Stranger Things)

How Not to Fly by toomuchplor (Stargate: Atlantis)

Give Thanks to Broken Bones by thepartyresponsible (MCU + DC)

Here We Are, Two Strangers by CoffeeStars (Check Please!)

My Words Will Be Your Light by Page161of180 (The Magicians)

Calling Down the Lightning by dreamwaffles (Stargate: Atlantis)

A Murder of Witches by Maleficar (Hunger Games + Black Jewels)

[valleydean]

Just letting you know the OTW board elections wrapped and Tiffany G did NOT get elected to a seat! 🎉

oh GOOD!!!!!! excellent news. thanks for telling me.

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

I’m sorry it took so long

Destiel fix-it, 3k, rated T, takes place during 15x19

read on ao3

By now, Dean Winchester had the act of getting utterly shitfaced down to a science.

See, if you just guzzled the liquor as hard and fast as you really wanted to, you’d just wind up throwing it all back up; but if you worked your way through a bottle steadily, over about an hour or so, the alcohol soaked all the way in and made you really good and numb. 

So Dean had parked his ass at the table with a full bottle of whiskey in each hand, not really listening to the sounds of Sam herding Jack down the hall to bed. By now, Sam knew better than to try and talk to Dean just after he had - had lost Cas.

Dean’s jaw clenched as he carefully poured a tall old fashioned of the whiskey, bothering only with a glass because it kept him from just putting the bottle to his lips and tipping it back until it was empty. Not even Dean’s iron stomach would accept that, and he was in no position to waste good liquor right now.

His hand shook as he brought the Jack Daniels to his mouth and forced himself not to gulp it down. 

The burn was familiar, if not exactly comforting. Dean didn’t think that anything on earth could comfort him tonight, not when the earth was utterly, terrifyingly empty. And really, Dean knew he should care more about seven billion people getting Thanos-snapped out of their lives, he should be dwelling on the guilt for letting that happen, for not stopping Chuck sooner, how it was all his fault for not being smart enough or fast enough, but -

Tonight, Dean didn’t care about the loss of seven billion humans. If that made him a shitty person, well, what else was new.

Dean’s unoccupied hand slid aimlessly - he told himself it was aimlessly - across the smooth table surface until his fingertips brushed up against the coarse shape of a C.

The carefully blank mask on Dean’s face crumpled, and he closed his eyes.

Every time he lost Cas, Dean thought it would have to hurt less this time, because he’d already done this. He’d grieved Cas over and over. He’d done this exact same routine of drinking the grief into submission over and over; shouldn’t it get at least a little bit easier with practice?

Nah, of course not. Because this time -

Dean’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might fracture, but he pried it open to throw back the rest of his glass. 

The words, all those words that Cas had said and Dean hadn’t, were tucked into a box in the center of his chest, some of them laid within with the utmost care, some stomped down until the lid would close. Dean had been putting his shit in boxes for decades, it was how he survived, but this - this was no ordinary box, and matter of fact, it really wouldn’t stay tightly shut.

I love you.

The words echoed through Dean’s head again as he reverently traced his fingers across the A.

He wanted to doubt what that meant, question what kind of love an angel might feel, dissect and analyze every word Cas had said until he could rationalize and explain them all away into shapes that could fit inside Dean’s fucked-up head. But twisting and reasoning what Cas had done for him, said to him, into something small enough that Dean could deserve it, would disrespect the sacrifice Cas had made. 

Another glass of whiskey, more steady swallows putting it away. 

For the hundredth time already, Dean wondered what he would have said if he’d just had time to say something. He’d tried, he’d opened his mouth, but the words were like fucking boulders lodged in his throat, impossible to get out. If he could’ve just had a few fucking minutes to think -

The glass smacked down on the table too loudly in the silence.

Silence. Everything had been so silent since Cas said Goodbye, Dean, since he’d looked into the Empty’s oily black jaws with that beatific smile on his face. Cas had died smiling. And Dean wanted to rage, to scream, to tear through the bunker breaking things, because Cas deserved better, he deserved so much fucking better than being happy over the likes of Dean. Cas deserved to be happy because he was loved; loved by someone who could actually say the words without choking.

Dean’s breath was hitching wetly in his throat as he lifted the next dose of alcohol to his lips. He was making good progress on the bottle - maybe drinking it just a little too fast, actually, but these were extenuating fucking circumstances if ever there were any.

There’s happiness in just saying it. Dean thought about that idea, and for one brief, ugly second he envied Cas. The way he’d just… said everything, it had seemed so... easy. Like so much weight had fallen off him through the catharsis of giving the words over to the air. Like it was… freeing.

Dean opened his eyes to watch his fingertip trace the sharp curves of the S, and he thought.

He was just drunk enough that it sounded like a good idea. After all, it worked last time.

The scrape of the chair legs was like a scream in the quiet, but Dean barely noticed. He just let his clumsy limbs slide down onto the floor, folding onto his knees and leaning his forehead on the cool wood of the table’s edge.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean whispered. “You got your ears on?”

The drink was still in his hand, so he took another swallow. 

“I don’t - fuck, I don’t know if you can hear me in there. Maybe you’re asleep, or maybe you just - can’t, in there, but.” Dean’s throat closed up for a long second, before he was able to unstick his voice with a coarse growl. “You stupid son of a bitch. How could you just -”

No, fuck. He couldn’t - Cas deserved better than that.

Dean’s eyes squeezed shut, and he gave a hard shake of his head. He tossed back the rest of the whiskey, then let the glass go skittering across the floor so he could press both trembling hands flat to his thighs. What… what he would have said, if he’d had the chance.

“You think - you think you haven’t changed me, man? You and Sammy, you’re the only two things I’ve ever had faith in. You pulled me out of hell, you saved me, and - and you never stopped. Every time you come back, it’s like -” 

Dean was gasping with the dizzying rush of honesty, with the cracking of a wall in his chest and the flood of words pouring out from it. Like a plug had been pulled, and now he couldn’t have stopped if he’d tried. 

“You said that good things happen, but - it was you, Cas. You were the good thing that happened to me. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Not - not what you do or - or the wins you get us, but just you. Just you, being here, saves me. I was just -” His hands curled into useless fists. “I was a fuckin’ coward. I wanted to tell you so many times, but I could never get the words out. And then it was always too late.” 

Dean gave a ragged, humorless laugh, and grabbed the bottle for a desperate swig.

“I’m sorry,” Dean groaned, wrecked, “I’m so sorry. I should have said something so long ago. I should have…” Dean shook his head.

“But.” An aching swallow scraped down his throat. “You’ve come back for me so many times, Cas. Just one more time, please. Just give me one more chance to say it back. I won’t waste it this time, I promise. Just.”

Dean’s eyes squeezed shut, spurring a pair of tears to finally slide down his face. “Please, Cas. Come back to me one more time.”

The rest - he couldn’t say the rest to an empty room, and besides, he was crying too hard again to get any more words out. Dean had been right, it was freeing to just say it, to say it, but it was like the freedom of blood running loose from slit wrists. 

Dean slumped to the side, his numb legs sliding out from under him, and you know what, fuck the science of getting drunk. He brought the whiskey bottle to his lips and tipped it all the way back.

***

“Jack!”

He’d almost let the kid walk away, because - because it was fucking weird, alright. The spawn of Satan that Dean and Sam and Cas had raised as their own son was God now, and sure Dean was glad to have somebody with a good heart wearing that title, but - look, it was just weird. He didn’t know what kind of God’s-dad special privileges he had in asking for things.

But he couldn’t just say nothing.

Jack paused, half-turned back, waiting.

Dean swallowed. “Cas,” he said roughly, working to breathe around the terrifying hope in his chest. “Can you bring him back?”

There was a whole universe in the moment that Jack simply stood there, but then the kid just smiled.

Dean opened his mouth to ask “What the fuck does that mean,” but Jack had disappeared in a golden glow before he could get the words out. 

***

As Dean pulled up in front of the bunker, he kept his eyes staring resolutely straight ahead. 

Because he - he could see a smudge of tan in his peripheral vision, and hope was a raw, starving mouth under his breastbone. If he looked and it - it was real, then he’d -

Dean wasn’t sure how long he sat there, motionless, white-knuckling the steering wheel, but eventually Sam cleared his throat. He said something about calling Eileen, then fled the scene as gracefully as someone the size of an elk was capable.

That beige shape moved, came closer, and it was blurry now not just because Dean was refusing to look in that direction, but because his eyes were filling with tears.

Dean looked.

For one long, heartstopping minute, he just looked. Just let himself see Cas standing there in one whole piece, his arms awkwardly hanging by his sides and a dumb, anxious smile on his face as he looked back.

All of Dean’s stillness shattered, and he was scrambling to open the door, to bail out on legs that tried to buckle, stumbling onto his feet and not caring at all what he looked like, how desperate and needy he was. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered except Cas standing there alive and whole in the sunlight.

Dean froze again, both his hands clutching the Impala’s doorframe, because what if Cas hadn’t heard him? What if -

Like he knew, Cas dipped his head in a single nod.

That nod seemed to flip a switch, unlock a deadbolt, and Dean was moving. His feet were crossing the distance between them with quick, forceful strides, and Cas was smiling at him, a big, goofy, gummy smile that had Dean’s heart pounding like a fist on a door. 

It wasn’t destiny or fate or inevitability that brought Dean’s hands up to cradle Cas’s face; it was a choice. It was the first thing Dean Winchester ever got to do with the knowledge that he had free will, that what he was doing was real. 

The second thing he did was cover Cas’s mouth with his own.

As first kisses went, it was maybe a little too frantic, clumsy, like they weren’t sure if they were trying to make out or eat each other alive, and they were both kind of crying. Dean was clawing at Cas’s trenchcoat and Cas was trying to say “Dean” but he wouldn’t give up enough room for it to happen. Their teeth bumped together and their rhythm didn’t quite match, but -

But none of that mattered, because now they had the chance to figure it out. There was nothing biting at their heels, threatening to tear them apart at any second, so they could take as long as they needed to get it exactly right. This wasn’t the only, it was just the first.

And besides, it was still the best kiss of Dean’s life.

One hand wrapped around the back of Cas’s neck, Dean just - just kissed him for one infinite moment, eyes screwed shut and lips molded to the soft warmth of Cas’s mouth. He wanted to say everything with touch, a language he spoke so much more fluently than anything verbal, but that - no, he’d begged for one more chance, and he couldn’t chicken out this time. Not when he knew that Cas actually wanted to hear it.

Dean pulled back, finally, and - fuck, right, he kind of needed to breathe. They were both panting, staring at each other openly, holding on so tight there wasn’t a speck of air between their bodies and wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Looking at Cas’s face, so close and real and fucking beautiful… suddenly, it was easy.

“I love you too,” Dean breathed out, the same time as Cas said, “I’m human.”

“What?” they both said.

Dean blinked, and watched Cas’s throat work with a swallow. “You’re…?”

“Human,” Cas said again, though his voice was rougher this time. “I - I asked Jack to do it. I thought, maybe…”

The hope in Cas’s eyes was enough to break Dean’s heart all over again.

���You’re such a dumbass,” Dean rasped, “for ever thinking you can’t have me.”

Cas laughed, he smiled brighter than Dean had ever seen before, and if there were tears on his face, well, it wasn’t like Dean’s eyes were dry either. He looked so happy, and Dean still couldn’t believe that happiness was because of him, but he was done pushing Cas away. He was done being silent.

Smiling, oh hell, he was smiling so wide and he couldn’t stop, Dean dropped his head forward until their brows leaned together in peace.

If he could make Cas happy, then maybe Dean could let himself be happy too.

***

Dean’s alarm woke him up at the usual time, and he groaned but didn’t bother hitting the snooze before dragging himself up. It wasn’t like he was getting up at six or anything, it was only nine, but lately Dean’s body seemed to be trying to make up for a few decades’ worth of sleep deprivation. 

The dead guy robe was waiting, thrown over the back of a nearby chair, and Dean slipped it on while sticking his feet into his fluffy slippers. Sam had called him creepy for taking the robe with him when they moved out of the bunker, told him to just buy something new, but Dean liked it, okay. And Dean was trying to get used to having things he liked.

He had bought some new things for the house, though, like the coffee maker that could be programmed to turn itself on and have the coffee already waiting when you woke up. It was awesome. 

Dean still liked to make breakfast the old-fashioned way, usually, but he always went and got the coffee first thing. Shuffling to the kitchen before he was even really awake, pouring the coffee, and shuffling back to the bedroom was how Dean’s days started now.

And like he did every morning, Dean set the coffee on the nightstand and then carefully sank onto the edge of the bed.

He liked to just sit here and watch for a minute. Turnabout was fair play and all that, yeah?

Cas’s face was buried in his pillow, the blanket drawn up so high that only a tuft of dark hair was visible, but Dean was kind of crazy about seeing that unruly mess of hair in his bed every morning. 

Their bed. Dean was also still getting used to believing that Cas was staying here, really staying here, that Cas’s name was on the paperwork for their home and the Roadhouse right next to Dean’s. Not that it was his real name, because the Kansas municipal government didn’t accept paperwork written in Enochian, but hell, Dean thought that Cas Winchester was just as good. Probably better.

Sure enough, like clockwork, the lump under the covers stirred and grunted an inquisitive noise after about thirty seconds of coffee perfuming the air. Dean smiled as a squinty face peered over the edge of the blanket.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean murmured, reaching up to run his fingers through that riotous bedhead now that he wouldn’t get snapped at for it. His other hand grabbed Cas’s coffee mug and brought it within easy reach. Cas had decided he like mornings even less his second time around as human.

The former angel made a sound that could have, conceivably, been Morning as he sat up on one elbow and eagerly accepted the coffee with a loud slurp. Dean smiled wider, laughed softly, and leaned in to press his lips into that tousled mess of hair. 

Yeah, Dean was whipped, he acted like a mortifyingly smitten fool a solid eighty percent of the time, but it was like the sleep deprivation thing. He had years to make up for.

Dean made sure, now, that it was the last thing Cas heard before he went to sleep and the first thing he heard when he woke up. Made sure that he said it, for his own sake, over and over again, hoping that one day it might start to feel like enough times, wondering if it would ever stop feeling like the first time. 

“I love you too.”

[starfruitflames]

@campchitaquamemories mom is withink you will like this :)

This is definitely not a google drive full of the sleep stuff from the Headspace app, including sleepcasts, music, and wind down meditation, that normally costs 17.99 a month, no siree and you definitely shouldnt share this with people

[zaxal]

Oh my god I haven’t thought about the Circle of Magic / The Circle Opens in literal years but you are so correct and Sandry was excellent (but Briar and Tris were my favorite characters).

im glad i could open the portal to nostalgia!!

i loved all 4 of the kids when i was younger, but i'd be lying if i said i didn't have a special place in my heart for tris. angry weather girl, my heart, my love.

i should really like. catch up on what tammy pierce has been writing. even if it's wayyy below my age bracket now, i loved her books so much when i was younger; they def shaped my standards for fantasy going forward.

[ourimpavidheroine]

Beifong kids face models for @campchitaquamemories, per request! Under the cut again.

Let’s start with the Republic City Beifongs, shall we?

San. His model is this dude, Lee Min Gyu, who is a schoolteacher from Korea. (A schoolteacher. All I have to say is that none of MY teachers looked like this.) I do see him as a mix between Bolin and Opal and their families. He’s got Bolin’s bright green eyes.

Bu. Face model Darren Chen. Softer and sweeter than San, looks more like a Beifong. I’ve seen him in a few different Chinese dramas and always think of Bu. His eyes are Opal’s softer green. His bison’s name is Ginger, because he’s very shaggy with fur the color of grated ginger.

Pearl is represented by this very muscular crossfit trainer. Pearl has the body of an earthbender, despite being an airbender. She’s wicked strong and like her father, whom she mostly resembles, has strong features. She’s not classically pretty but she’s arresting. Her hair is short and curly, though. In fact, she has Darren Chen’s haircut, above. She will finally get her arrows at the same time as Emerald, despite earning them in her teens. She’s got Bolin’s bright green eyes. Her bison’s name is Boom-Boom, AKA Boomster AKA The Boomerang AKA Boom-Bada-Bing AKA you get the idea.

Now on to the Flower Garden!

Orchid. Obviously this is a stock shot but this is exactly how I see Orchid, although she’s certainly got more of a fuller figure, thanks to her mother. A classic beauty. (I had to mentally add in Nuo’s dimples to all 4 girls.) Her eyes are Beifong however, that jade green color.

Iris. This woman is from a Mongolian catalogue. The name Baatar is Mongolian and that’s how I headcanon Baatar Sr. Iris takes after him - and her father - a great deal. You do not want Iris on the opposite side of you in court. She likes to win. At everything.

Rose. Another stock photo, but she’s a mixup of both her parents. She’s got her father’s firmer jaw but her mother’s black eyes.

Poppy. I saw this online as part of a photo shoot and HOLY FORKING SHIRTBALLS this is EXACTLY Poppy Beifong right here. EXACTLY. It was like someone yanked her right out of my head, high heels and lipsticked mouth and do you really think you’re worth my time attitude and all. Jai never stood a chance.

On to the Northern Air Temple!

Goba. I only have a child reference model for Goba, because for a long time he was an eternal three year old for me. With his squared-off little smile! Just age him up as necessary. He never gets taller than about 5′6″ (168 cm) but Hua, like her mother, appreciates a short king. His bison’s name is Dolly, named for his first dolly (which he will keep for the rest of his life).

Katara II carries a fair amount of the Mongolian look about her. She resembles both Baatars a great deal, although she’s got the pale green Beifong eyes. Her bison’s name is Tuuli (which is Finnish for wind).

Tseten is a pretty good mixup of both of his parents. He is, generally speaking, pretty good-humored and smiles a lot. Has piercings. Turned out surprisingly chill, considering his ancestry. Gets lots of tattoos as an adult, including a blue airbending arrow pointing down to his heart. He’s got Ikki’s gray eyes, however. His bison’s name is Stony. Which is a reference to his being an earthbender. Mostly.

Bhuti. If there was anybody going to be taking a photo of herself with sunglasses sitting between two air bison with sunglasses on as well it would be our girl Bhuti. Who would then go off to snowboard off the side of the mountain. Into the air. Ride the air currents all the way down. She gets her arrows at the age of 13 and is the cause of a lot of Baatar’s gray hair, is all I am saying. Her eyes are the same olive color as Baatar’s. (I know those are Tibetan Mastiffs and not air bison but work with me here, people. Did I mention her bison’s name is Sir Wigglesbottom? Because it is.)

Spouses? Sure! I only have face models for a few of them, though.

Amak - Northern Water Tribe, with a brilliant, mischievous sparkle in her eyes that made San fall in love with her pretty much immediately. Her name means playful (like an otter) and that’s exactly how I see her. She’s got blue eyes the exact color of the Finnish sky in summer. 

Jai - I always had Sendhil Ramamurthy in mind for him, from the start. Tall, lanky, dark, Indian. The only difference is that Jai’s eyes are lighter color - a sort of golden brown - and Jai has a perpetual scowl on his face. And hard hat hair.

Sotheara is a Cambodian name that means “pretty flower” (yes, she’s part of the Flower Garden). Our Sotheara is very kind and compassionate - she’s a lawyer with the Republic City equivalent of the ACLU and does pro-bono civil/human rights cases. People often underestimate her because of how sweet she looks. That is a very big mistake.

This Tibetan woman is unidentified, but that penetrating (aka stop with your bullshit) look is one both Goba and Hua would recognize. Yes. Kelden.

[luca-is-a-pengu]

here are my personal fav additions that appeared so far, in no particular order:

by @t0ky0ghoul ngl that one made me laugh

by @tmmyhug cause they couldn't fit Jason in there haha

by @dramatic-delirium the eggs offended him in a personal matter

by @joaniejustwokeup maybe. Hope she didn't wake up when they took that picture...

by @zimzywhimzy he wanted to make pancakes and needed one more egg. pretty rude that someone stole the 4th one

by @batfamadoration the picture of them, removing eveything and having to place everything back in the exact same positions so Alfred doesn't notice, is hilarious to me haha

by @beanstroni he does and so does Steph, they just chose wisely and didn't participate in this one. Steph just always pretends she didnt do the stuff that she is involved with. nobody believes her.

Duke is let off the hook more often than the rest, since he is usually better behaved.

by @campchitaquamemories of course he is. where else would he be. maybe in the corner of the ceiling haha

by @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing counting is hard, mate. cut him some slack XD

by @r7skt they might or they might not. but someone owes him an egg.

The real reason why none of the bat-boys are allowed in the kitchen

[perfectlyelegantdelusion]

Hey, @atomicdetectivehideout I’m happy to be your  @destielsecretsanta2020

Merry Christmas! Please, accept my humble gift for the holiday. It’s a 3k of fluff and stuff (well, when I say fluff, I mean, I really tried!). I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 

Thank you to the most awesomest people to ever awesome @campchitaquamemories and @amyoatmeal for offering to beta this little thing. You guys rock!

Here it is on ao3 if you prefer

Those Things That Couples Do

Come to think of it, it wasn’t such a lame idea. Not lame at all, Dean thought, to the extent he might even have to thank Sam later. Well, maybe not outright thank him, but definitely bake a cherry pie for Eileen (her favorite; the woman sure knew how to enjoy life). It felt nice, lying on the bed with Cas in the semi-darkness, Christmas lights on the dresser and a couple of the apple cider and cinnamon scented candles Cas liked so much (and Dean grumbled about but secretly enjoyed too) being the only source of light. It felt cozy. Safe. They talked in hushed voices so as not to disturb the quiet magic of the bubble they had created in that moment, and dammit, but Dean was grateful to his brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law for this particular chick-flick.

“So, you sure you want this to go on your list as the first item?” Dean nudged Cas gently with an elbow. “Sick of my cooking already? I’m hurt, man,” he added, only half-jokingly.

The idea Eileen pitched to them was to write down three items each to reflect their hopes and plans for the upcoming year. At first, Dean laughed when Sam handed him a blue envelope with four blank craft paper cards to be written on. He had been about to suggest Sam find someone more age-appropriate to participate in that particular brand of cute (Dean could almost see the faces Claire and Kaia would make at the suggestion), but Cas’s quiet ‘It’s a lovely idea’ made him silently accept the package at the last second. This provided Sam with the pleasure of witnessing his older brother biting his tongue and smiling reassuringly at Cas who’d been busy searching Dean’s face for a reaction.

Per the rules Sam had explained to them, they were supposed to write down their plans (which they were encouraged to discuss, because that’s apparently what couples do) and complete a bonus task – individually, this time – describing where they see themselves next year at Christmas. Then, they were to seal their envelope and give it to Sam and Eileen for safekeeping, accepting theirs in exchange. That way next year there would be an additional reason to spend Christmas together and see which things have come to pass.

“Stop fishing for a compliment. You know your cooking is delicious.” Cas turned to look at Dean. “I want to be able to do nice things for you, Dean. Like you do for me. Cooking for people you care about is how you show affection and those small, but meaningful gestures go a long way. I’d love to be able to surprise you with a breakfast pie in bed, or make soup for when you catch a cold, or-“ Dean interrupted him with a chaste and gentle kiss on the lips. “You had me at the breakfast pie, Cas. Cooking and baking: 101 it is.” Cas smiled, reached for Dean’s hand, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Laying back on the pillow, he rested Dean’s hand on his belly, gently stroking the fingers. Dean closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

“What will you put as your first item?” Cas asked a moment later.

“That’s easy,” Dean murmured into Cas’s shoulder. “Beach vacay. Never had the time for that before. What do you think about some sand between our toes? Maybe even skinny-dipping with enough margaritas?”

“You do look extremely hot in those aviators of yours,” Cas replied in a thoughtful voice, as if mulling it over. “And skinny-dipping does sound promising. A beach vacation certainly belongs on that list.”

“Cas, if you want me naked and in sunglasses, that can be arranged anytime, anywhere.”

“I want you in those cut-off shorts of yours, and then I want you out of them,” Cas continued in a low voice, and Dean felt the hairs on his arm stand up under Castiel’s fingertips. “I want to explore your sun-kissed skin and count the freckles on your back. I want you to enjoy yourself in all the ways that appeal to you, so yes. You’re writing that down. I’m taking you to the beach.”

“Just like that?” Dean asked, teasingly. “Pretty goal-oriented, aren’t you?”

Cas glared at him; Christmas lights caught in his dark blue eyes. “I was a Seraph, Dean. Goal-oriented was in the job description.”

“Bossy,” Dean suggestively wiggled his eyebrows.

“You like that.”

“Touché.”

Cas turned on his side, facing Dean. They were lying so close now they breathed the same air, noses just shy of touching. Dean took Cas’s hand and laced their fingers, nudging a knee between Cas’s thighs. “What else is on your list?” Dean asked.

Cas didn’t answer right away, and Dean closed his eyes to bask in the warmth of their bodies.

“There’s a small plot of land behind the bunker,” Cas began, “I was wondering whether it’s okay with you and Sam if I make a garden there?” He sounded uncertain, for some unknown reason, and Dean frowned at that. “It wouldn’t be anything fancy, just some flowerbeds with sunflowers or maybe lavender-“

“Cas,” Dean interjected, still frowning, “why would you even ask? You don’t need anyone’s permission to do what you want to do, come on. The bunker belongs to you just as much it does to me or Sammy or Eileen or the rest of our extended family.” He propped himself up on one elbow and gently freed his hand from Castiel’s hold to cup his cheek. “If you want a garden, I’ll help you make one. Or just as happily will mind my own business if it’s something you want to do on your own. Okay?”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas whispered, earnestly. And it wasn’t about the garden, really. It was about being reassured he belonged, was wanted. Accepted.

“You should definitely add the garden to your list, Cas. And, while we’re on the topic, there was actually something I wanted to ask you about.” Dean cleared his throat, his heart rate quickened. He’d been thinking about this for quite a while, but never seemed to find the right moment to broach the topic. Frankly, he’d never felt brave enough to do so. Why mess up a good thing? But the idea lived in his head rent free, and there was no lying to himself, no tricking his mind out of it. “What would you say about a real garden, though?  With an apple tree, some benches, maybe even a gazebo? Where you can plant all kinds of flowers to appease those honeybees of yours?”

“That- That sounds lovely, Dean,” Cas replied, obviously a little bit at a loss. “What do you have in mind?”

Dean was grateful it was dark in the room because he could feel himself blushing, chest burning as if someone had put a hot iron on it. He took a deep breath that didn’t do much to lessen the anxiety.

“Remember, back in Sioux Falls, Bobby’s old property?” Dean paused, waiting for Castiel to nod in agreement. “So, it’s all still there. It’s a pretty big plot of land, and the house burned down, obviously, but I was thinking,” the words kept jumping one in front of the other, and Dean felt the blush deepen, desperately hoping Cas would understand what he was trying to say. “I ain’t that bad at rebuilding things, and, of course, it’s gonna be quite a lot of work, but who doesn’t like a fixer-upper, right? There’s the salvage yard, too, we can do something with that. I’m sure Bobby wouldn’t mind, and there shouldn’t be any problems with the documents, given who’s the sheriff in town. And that way you and I get to be closer to Claire, and Donna, the whole gang-“

“You and I?” Cas asked quietly, and Dean took a deep breath, grateful for the interjection.

“You and I. And some bees, apparently,” Dean gave Cas a weak smile, searching his eyes.

Green met blue, and for the better part of a minute (eternity, really) Cas just kept looking at him silently. Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest so loudly, he wondered if maybe he just couldn’t hear Cas’s answer because of the pounding in his ears. But Castiel’s lips didn’t move, and Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he needed to get out before he went into a full-blown panic attack. It was too much. Why would Cas want to leave the bunker? It was way safer there. There were other people, hunters, coming and going, Sam and Eileen lived barely an hour away, why would he even consider moving in with Dean, let alone-

Suddenly, Cas was on Dean, left hand on Dean’s pillow for support, right hand cupping Dean’s face. Cas pressed kisses everywhere, holding on to Dean like it was the last thing on Earth worth doing. Cas moved his hand into Dean’s hair, gripping tight, and Dean moaned, capturing Cas’s mouth with his own, deepening the kiss. Dean’s anxiety turned into exhilaration, because that was very clearly a yes, and somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered if maybe he’d just suffered a mild heart attack. In mere seconds, though, his body went pliant under Cas’s weight, the kiss grew even more urgent and heated. Dean’s brain short-circuited, the only thing that registered was the press of Cas’s groin to his own, the sounds Cas was making, the texture of his tongue, the softness of his palms, his smell, his taste, the overwhelming need to be closer, to become one, to forget there ever was an outside world at all. But as Dean slipped his hands under Cas’s T-shirt, Cas groaned and broke the kiss, panting. He pressed his forehead to Dean’s, eyes closed and breathing heavy.

“I believe we’ve gotten carried away,” Cas said, hoarsely. “We still have to finish the lists before Sam leaves for Eileen’s.”

“Screw Sam,” Dean rasped, “I don’t care, just take off your clothes and keep kissing me senseless.”

Cas growled and bit his lip to keep himself from grinding.

“There will be no screwing Sam,” he said in a low voice. “We finish the lists, give Sam the envelope, bid him goodnight,” Cas took a deep breath, his body looming over Dean. “And then we pick up right where we left off.”

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean whined.

“Patience, Dean,” Cas pressed a kiss behind his ear, where he knew Dean was especially sensitive. “All in due time.”

With that, Castiel got up, went to click his bedside lamp on, fluffed his pillow, propped it against the headboard, and took the writing supplies from the nightstand. When he got back on the bed, he made sure to leave a few inches of space between them.

Dean groaned. “Fuck my life,” he muttered, but took a couple of deep breaths, willing his heart rate to friggin’ slow down already.  He sat up and reached to switch on the lamp on his side of the bed. He watched Cas for a moment before clarifying, “Yes to the house, though?”

Cas looked at him, pen pausing in the middle of a sentence. “I love you, Dean. Yes to the house.”

Dean grinned. “So, two down, one to go. Item number three for 2021?”

Castiel chewed on the cap, thoughtfully. “This one is less specific, but I’d like to try things I haven’t tried before. Unusual food, new experiences, all kinds of activities – with you.”

“Cas, I swear, if you hadn’t stopped just now, I’d have given you a thing or two to cross out from that bucket list,” Dean smiled, cockily.

Cas grinned. “I should think so.”

“Just say the word,” Dean winked, “and we can go baptize the library.”

“Noted. Let’s just not traumatize your brother any further.”

“He’ll live.”

Cas sighed, a mix of fondness and exasperation. “We’ll get back to this conversation as soon as we’re finished with the task at hand. What’s your item number three for the list?”

“Well,” Dean sat up straighter to get himself into business mode, “I’d love to spend more time with family. Get to know them better, maybe set up some family traditions? I don’t know if everyone will appreciate the idea, but it would be kinda awesome.” He glanced at the framed photos proudly sitting on his shelf.

“I think it’s a wonderful thing to put on your list,” Castiel reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “and I don’t have a shadow of a doubt, everyone will be thrilled.”

“They’d better be. Otherwise, they’ll be missing out on the greatest feasts humanity’s ever known.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed easily, “among other things.”

Dean smiled and reached for his own supplies.

For the next five minutes the only sound that filled the room was rustling of paper. Having finished writing, Dean clicked his pen off. “So, what’s with the bonus task? The one where we describe where we see ourselves this time next year?”

Cas bent the card he was writing on in half and slid it into the envelope. “We’re not supposed to discuss it, but, seeing that we will be exchanging our predictions next year, I figure we just address it to each other?”

“Let’s do that,” Dean nodded. “So, no consulting, huh?”

Castiel hummed. “If we were to respect the rules. You know, though, my prediction doesn’t make much of a secret,” he shrugged, smiling. “This time next year, and all the years to come, I see myself watching a Christmas movie with you. I can’t keep up with the plot, really, because mostly I’m watching you watching the movie, watching you smile, listening to you laugh. And I am overwhelmed by how grateful I am for everything that has led me there, in that moment. I’m happy. I’m with you.”

Dean’s throat felt tight and his eyes started prickling with tears somewhere between ‘all the years to come’ and ‘watching you watching the movie’. Cas was looking at him with such adoration, reverence even, blue eyes glistening, pen and paper forgotten.

“Yeah,” Dean said, wrapping Cas in a bear hug. “Yeah.” He hid his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck and felt an awkward kiss being pressed to the side of his head. “You’re such a sap, man,” he breathed a somewhat wet laugh. “You’re such a sap, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” Cas mumbled, “I know.”

“You should still put all of that in writing. You know, for posterity.”

“I will. Will you write yours?”

Dean withdrew a little to give Cas a kiss on the cheek. “I will. But I’m gonna need you to bear with me, ‘cause for once in my life I would actually like to stick to the rules.” He caught Cas’s eyes, “Is that okay with you?” he asked, with a hint of a mischievous smile.

“Of course, Dean.”

“Good. Good.” Dean grinned. “And Cas? I love you, too.”

***

Eileen was supposed to pick him up in about an hour, so Sam sat at his desk browsing true crime documentaries on Netflix when Dean burst in his room without knocking.

“Would you appreciate it if I barged into your room like that?” Sam asked flatly, not looking up from the screen.

“We both know that’s an empty threat,” Dean replied without missing a beat. “Not with those delicate sensibilities of yours.”  He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam bristled, “You guys were doing it against the kitchen sink! A man should expect the kitchen to be a safe space!”

“Yes, yes,” Dean nodded vigorously, “he should. But it’s still ill-advised.”

Sam closed the lid of his laptop with a click . “Please, tell me you’ve got the envelope and I can go see my girl and bring home the victory of getting you and Cas to participate?”

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean dropped the envelope in question on the desk. “Take good care of that for us,” he winked at his brother mischievously. “Cas has already stashed yours in some dusty old book. And hey,” he added in a more serious voice, “tell Eileen thank you?”

“Wait, really?” Sam started, but Dean was already out in the hall.

“Can’t talk, gotta run, Cas says he wants to try new things, and believe me, Sammy, I am gonna deliver!”

“TMI, jerk!” Sam yelled after him, leaning his chair back on two legs to try and catch sight of his older brother.

“Drive safe, bitch!” Dean yelled back from down the hall.

Sam sighed and picked up the blue envelope titled Dean & Cas: 2021 Edition in Castiel’s neat handwriting. The envelope wasn’t sealed properly, and as soon as Sam turned it over in his hands the contents slipped out onto the desk.

“You’re so whipped, Dean,” Sam muttered under his breath picking up the papers. One of the cards fell onto the floor, and as Sam leaned to pick it up, he recognized Dean’s handwriting. Not his finest hour, he would figure later, but the eyes started skimming the text before the brain could actually approve the action.

Hey, Cas. So, we’re talking this time next year, huh? Let’s see. I’m most probably sitting on the couch with you, and we’re in the middle of binge-watching one of those shows you like or watching a documentary. I can’t really tell, because I’m having trouble focusing on what’s going on on the screen. The reason probably being that I have this ring in my pocket, and I keep thinking I should come up with more fitting words. I keep overanalyzing things, wondering if this is even something you might want. And then, we open the envelope, and I’m giving you this little piece of paper, and you start reading it. And I- I can see you frowning in concentration, and it’s been a year since I wrote this, and I still haven’t found the words, because really there are no words to even begin to describe what we have. So- So I take your hand, I kiss your knuckles, and I slip the ring on your finger, and I hope-

Man, I hope I get to spend the rest of my life with you.

With a dopey smile, Sam slipped the card back into the envelope, sealing it carefully. “So whipped,” he repeated quietly, but proudly. 2021 was going to be one for the books.

[gaycliches]

supernatural thursdays is on twitter!

follow us on twitter for updates about the server! we’re doing weekly rewatch parties (with multiple time slots to accommodate everyone!) + we have lots of fun things in store for the future!

wanna join us on our ride? click here to join the server!

tags below the cut:

@castee-yel @fitinmypoems @campchitaquamemories @rambleoncas @holdcas @nervouswitch101

[elizabethrobertajones]

did they get a sofa @campchitaquamemories​

(NO SPOILERS)

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

title: the rhyme of salvation pairing: dean/castiel, background sam/eileen rating: T word count: 6k (complete) tags: fix-it, happy ending, begins at the end of 15x19 summary:

“Nothing human can exist in the Empty,” Jack replied, shaking his head. “It would just - spit you back out, and probably kill you in the process.”

“Then -” Dean pulled in a deep breath. Made his choice. “Then make me not human.”

***

“Not that this isn’t a touching little reunion,” the Empty bit out, yanking Dean’s head back to a harsh angle, “but all the go-getter attitude in the world doesn’t change the fact that Castiel belongs to me.” Its mouth spread in a sinister Cheshire smile. “He agreed to be mine.”

“Yeah, the thing about that is,” Dean said, and shoved back up on his feet, all in the same movement bashing his rocklike head into the Shadow’s stolen skull. It cried out and stumbled back. “I never agreed to it.”

Taking a deep breath, Dean turned and met wide blue eyes. “And he was mine a long time before he was yours.”

read on ao3

[ourimpavidheroine]

wanted to drop a quick note to say thank you for your huge expanded universe of LoK fic! It's brought me many, many hours of enjoyment, as I've read it all through multiple times now.

Hey! You are so very welcome! I’m so glad you’ve gotten so much enjoyment out of it. That’s always so great (satisfying, exciting, delectable, edifying) to hear, I really appreciate you taking the time to let me know.

Also may I say that I am truly impressed that you have read it through altogether, never mind more than once. That’s a lot of fic. Like...you deserve all the awards.

[perfectlyelegantdelusion]

let me go (ask me to stay)

My submission for the @deancastropefest Mid-Winter 5k is here! It’s angst that gets hot and heavy. Feelings certainly involved. Read it on AO3.

Tags: canonverse, angst, porn with feelings, porn with plot, first time, hurt/comfort, Castiel is falling, and there’s nothing Dean can do about it

Summary:  “Whatever choice I make, it always seems to be the wrong one. You are infuriating, and so quick to judge. Do yourself a favor and just tell me to go,” Cas says, “You’ve done that before.”

Notes: This one goes for @charlie-minion, who gave me the prompt years ago. You've inspired me to be brave and unapologetic about doing what I love. The wall slamming is for you, baby.

My eternal love and gratitude to fellow scorpios @amyoatmeal and @campchitaquamemories for beta reading this for me and being a constant source of support, especially in the middle of the night when I google proper English words for 'sport suit track pants'.

Special thanks to the mods for being the most chill. You're wonderful, we love you!

To anyone who reads this, thank you. I hope you enjoy it.

Preview under the cut.

Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong. -- Lao-Tzu

When Dean turns the light on, the bunker greets them with soft electrical humming in the walls. Their footsteps echo in the heavy silence as they make it down to the library and Dean cannot wait to finally shut the world out for a few hours from the solace of his bedroom. It was a rough hunt and a long drive, and the nagging headache makes a reappearance despite the couple of Advil he popped before their ride back. His bruised knuckles throb and his back cries for the comforts of the memory foam. He turns to mutter ‘g’night’ to no one in particular when Sam clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Well, I’m going to take a shower and turn in,” he says briskly, voice sounding tired and remarkably fed-up, “so you two can go ahead and figure out whatever it is you need to figure out.”

He fixes Dean and Castiel with a stare. Dean avoids so much as glancing at the angel, but he is pretty sure they both glare at Sam in unison.

“I don’t care what you do. Yell at each other, throw some punches, have a heart-to-heart or fucking kiss and make up,” Sam emphatically throws his hands up, then gestures between his brother and the angel. “I can’t possibly listen to any more of your bitching. Suck it up and fucking deal with it, or the next case we find, I’m working it with Garth.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. Dean feels it rather than sees it, his attention focused on studying the blood stain on his jeans. Clearly frustrated, Sam runs his uninjured hand through his hair, and for a second it looks like he wants to say something else, but quickly changes his mind and settles on a noncommittal sigh, heading in the direction of the showers with his duffel bag over the shoulder.

When the sounds of his footsteps recede, the library drowns in silence. Neither Dean, nor Cas are willing to start talking, but neither of them make a move to retreat to their respective bedrooms. Dean randomly picks up some of the books cluttering the table when he hears the noise of a chair being pulled out and clothes rustling. Taking a glimpse at the angel, he finds Cas sitting in the chair, arms folded on his chest. He is looking at Dean now, left eyebrow raised expectantly.

Fuck that eyebrow, Dean thinks. Fuck the day those nasty witches decided making human sacrifices was a fun way to spend their weekend. Fuck the day Dean was born, for that matter.

Continue on AO3

[campchitaquamemories]

wherephantomssleep >>> mysonjughead

formerly reichenbachredux. even more formerly campchitaquamemories.

This is a Riverdale fan blog now.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Season 8 meta:

A Brief and Not Very Well Researched Analysis on Purgatory and its Function in the Narrative: http://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/98410596963/campchitaquamemories-elizabethrobertajones

Moondoor = Bi Dean: https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/143843492841/inspired-by-a-wait-what-did-dean-really-take

Sam Is The Worst Hunter Ever: https://elizabethrobertajones.tumblr.com/post/158780196198/elizabethrobertajones-hey-so-i-uh-looked-into