#spn + disney

[shallowseeker]

Jack + Bambi

After meeting the Lebanon trio (Max Stacy, Eliot), Jack wants to know why they call him Bambi, so he watches Bambi.

Dean fully expects the mom getting shot to devastate him, but Jack's main takeaway/fascination?

Twitterpated.

(It contributes to Jack's ongoing, mid-season 14 obsession with LOVE.) Jack wonders aloud if he can still fall in love, now that he feels "different." (Now that he's mostly all-angel.)

Anyway, Dean starts to really regret watching it with him because THIS SOUL TALK stuff is uncomfortable and horrible and awkward AND scary.

Friend Owl: Yes. Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. For example: you're walking along, minding your own business. You're looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of a sudden, you run smack into a pretty face. You begin to get weak in the knees. Your head’s in a whirl. And then you feel light as a feather. And before you know it, you’re walking on air. And then you know what? You’re knocked for a loop, and you completely lose your head. And that ain't all. It could happen to anyone, so you'd better be careful. It could happen to you... or you, or even... yes, it could even happen to you! 

To assuage his worry about "losing" his human side, Jack starts asking questions about Cas, the only good "all-angel" he knows.

"Has it happened to Cas?" "What?" "Twitterpated."

Jack looks terrified as he awaits Dean's answer.

[shallowstories]

For @notrenu / @angelcasendgame

"I love all your takes on Jack and since you said we could request smth, I'd love a lil snippet on what Jack would be up to post canon 💕💕"

///

The spindly shape of giant ribs hangs above them, suspended in the starless ceiling like jagged parts of great big birch trees.

They're bone-white, and they stand out of the darkness like otherworldly glowsticks.

The more Jack stares, the more it feels like some kind of giant birdcage.

Or something.

It has a numbing effect.

Every once in a while, something drips from the ceiling, like rain except darker and sludgier. Jack has to close his eyes to keep it from stinging.

///

Amara hasn't moved the whole time they've been here.

Wherever here is.

Jack is has so much trouble remembering how he got here.

(Sometimes, Jack thinks he'd like to forget everything, even his family.)

She's bent over at the waist, elbows resting on the floor, hands balled up tight. Her hair trails out over the front of her face, dragging the floor. It looks long and wet, like something out of The Ring. Like Samara Morgan, or Sadako Yamamura, like a string-haired ghost girl.

Her silk V-neck gets darker the more the muck from the ceiling drips down on her. It makes her recede, into the shadows.

Somehow, it feels like if she disappears, she's going to get digested.

Jack tries getting her attention again.

(He's tried everything, from talking about Chuck to chatting about Sam and Dean. He's even retold the entire plot of The Walking Dead, season 3.)

"You know," he says, speaking quietly, like you would to a spooked horse. "This kind of reminds me of Monstro."

After an unfathomably long silence--days or years or centuries--she replies.

“What’s Monstro.”

This, Jack remembers.

“It’s this…giant whale. From uh, Pinnochio.”

Her fists twitch and then relax, just a little bit.

"Pinnochio."

"Yes. It's a movie."

"A movie."

She seems disgusted or annoyed or both.

"Monstro comes at the very end. It swallows Pinocchio. A-and Geppetto and Figaro and Cleo."

Her hair slides away from her face as her back straightens, and somehow Jack can perfectly make out her eyes. For all her despair, they're dark and shining with intelligence.

"How did they get out?"

///

My very first request. I hope you like it! In this take, the white!Jack that we see on screen must keep each forearm covered, as twin marks, representing Jack and Amara, have appeared on each. And they are trapped in a cage of Chuck’s making.

[gleafer]

Me, using my god given talent to capture likenesses as a way to make as many fictional characters kiss as possible.

And no one can STOP ME! Mwahahahahahahahpower! POWER!

Excuse me a cruel chuckle! Power mmhmmhmmyes-Prince John, probably

[vesperscas]

in the good supernatural cas would have been talking to animals all the time. dean and sam are discussing some case and in the background you see cas chatting with a pigeon and nodding while it chitters to him. in one particularly tricky case cas disappears before coming back saying "i have new witnesses" and trailing him behind him are a dozen stray cats who are purring at his feet. random animals just pop out of his trench coat with no explanation. he interviews a suspect with a blue jay perched on his shoulder and a squirrel in his pocket.

[demonicseries]

"will lokius go canon this season?" thats the not the question here. It's marvel. I know they won't. But i want to see just how close they will get to it. How much will they get away with? How much of the story they want to tell will make it through?

[virfujiwara]

salah and manar's campaign account @salahahmed90 @salahmanarfamily.

butterfly effect project #944

vetted here

Here are more examples of what I usually draw. I'll open 5 slots for now. Previous post.

Please donate, and share whether you can or cannot donate right now.

[thishazeleyeddemon]

Hi!

If you want to help out a fundraiser that's in danger of stagnating, please consider donating to my friend @fahedshehab-new's fundraiser to help him get his family of eight out of Gaza. This fundraiser was verified by @el-shab-hussein here. Even one dollar can help get them closer to their goal so they can escape when the crossing opens.

Whether or not you can donate, please consider sharing to get them closer to their goal!

Currently at 27805/50000

[peecyjacksoo]

CRUSTY IS DEATH FROM SUPERNATURAL

[strawlessandbraless]

I spent too long on this

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

[shiftythrifting]

Old spn merch, a hat that I bought for 6 bucks, and a shirt that was made by ppl who Did Not watch the movie

Twice as nice in tucson az

[girl-next-door-writes]

A Little Parlor Trick

Characters: Crowley x reader

Summary: A first encounter with the King of Hell stirs a curiosity that you aren’t sure you will be able to shake.

Word Count: 1413 words

Prompt: “And I’ve got friends on the other side.”

A/N: This is for the lovely @caplanbuckybarnes Caplan’s Disney Celebration. It’s been a hot minute since I wrote my favourite demon, but he is always worth the wait.

The dull hum of the Impala’s engine faded as Dean turned the key, cutting off the familiar purr that had become background noise during the long drive to New Orleans. The air here felt different—heavier, older, like it was thick with secrets. It clung to your skin, the humidity wrapping around you like a second layer of clothing as you stepped out onto the cracked pavement.

You glanced at the dilapidated house before you. It looked abandoned, but you knew better. A set-up like this was rarely what it seemed, and when dealing with demons, that was the one constant you could rely on.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. You’d been hunting with the Winchesters for a few months now—long enough to be able to interpret some of their silent language, even if you didn’t quite speak it fluently. This was your first real test, your first hunt involving the King of Hell himself, Crowley. You’d heard of him, of course—every hunter worth their salt had. But hearing about him and meeting him were two different things.

"Stay close," Dean murmured, shooting you a quick glance. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust you; it was just that Crowley was unpredictable. Dangerous. And it was never wise to underestimate a demon—especially this one.

You nodded, falling into step behind them as they approached the door. It creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior. It felt cooler inside, almost cold, and there was an unmistakable smell of incense and something darker, like old magic.

And then you saw him.

Crowley stood in the center of the room, wearing his trademark suit with a deep red silk pocket square tucked neatly in place. He looked like he belonged more in a posh London penthouse than in this rundown Louisiana shack. His dark eyes glinted as he watched the three of you enter, a smirk already playing on his lips.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he drawled, his gaze flickering to you with interest. “And who might you be? New pet, boys?”

You squared your shoulders. “I’m not a pet.”

Crowley’s smirk widened as he let out a low chuckle, the sound rolling out smooth and lazy. “Oh, I like you already. A little fire in the belly. Just what I need.”

Dean cut in sharply, his tone gruff. “Enough games, Crowley. You said we’d find what we need here. We need information.”

“Ah, yes. Straight to business as usual, Dean.” Crowley’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But why rush when we can savor the moment?”

You held your ground, not wanting to show weakness in front of the demon. “You’re wasting our time. Are you going to help us or not?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, amused. “Feisty.” He waved a hand casually, and the room seemed to shift, shadows growing longer, darker. “Alright, kitten. If you want a little parlor trick, I’ll oblige. After all, I do love putting on a show.”

With a snap of his fingers, the lights dimmed even further, and an array of candles flickered to life around the room, casting an eerie glow. You could feel a pulse of magic, something thick and tangible in the air, and it made your skin tingle.

Crowley took a step toward you, his gaze steady and unyielding. “You see, I’ve got friends on the other side,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “and they’ve got quite the talent for giving people what they want.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in the way he spoke, a kind of hypnotic cadence that made you lean in just a little closer, despite yourself. You knew you shouldn’t be intrigued, that you shouldn’t feel that pull—but it was there, undeniable and growing stronger with every syllable that fell from his lips.

“Don’t listen to him,” Sam warned, his voice cutting through the haze that seemed to have settled over your thoughts.

You blinked, shaking off the strange allure that Crowley’s voice had carried. He noticed, of course, the shift in your stance, the way your expression hardened again. But instead of being annoyed, he looked even more entertained.

“Oh, come now,” he said with a dismissive wave at Sam, “I’m just having a little fun. It’s not often I get such... charming company.” He directed his smile back to you, a hint of darkness behind his otherwise friendly facade. “You know, it’s a pity you’re tangled up with these two. You’ve got potential.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your expression skeptical. “And what exactly does ‘potential’ mean coming from the King of Hell?”

Crowley tilted his head, considering you for a moment. “It means you’re not like the others. Hunters—self-righteous, dull. You’re different. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Let me guess,” you retorted. “You’ve got some grand offer that I’d be a fool to refuse?”

“Why, yes,” he replied smoothly, “as a matter of fact, I do.” He extended a hand toward you, palm up. “You’re a hunter. That much is clear. But you don’t know what it’s like to have real power. To command it, shape it, twist it to your will. I could show you.”

Dean stepped forward, placing himself between you and Crowley. “Enough of your crap, Crowley,” he growled. “You’re not turning anyone here into one of your lackeys.”

Crowley’s expression barely faltered, but his eyes grew colder, a sharp glint replacing the warmth. “There’s no need to be so possessive, squirrel.” He looked past him, locking eyes with you again. “The choice is always yours, darling. But you’d be wise to consider all your options.”

For a moment, you felt that pull again, stronger this time. His words stirred something in you, something deep and unspoken. You weren’t tempted by the promise of power exactly, but there was a dark curiosity there, a part of you that wanted to know what he was truly offering, if only to understand why it resonated in the first place.

You took a step forward, brushing past Dean despite his murmured protest. “I’m not interested in becoming a demon’s plaything,” you said, your voice steady and firm. “But if you’re offering information, I’m listening.”

Crowley’s smirk returned, softer this time, almost genuine. “Well, that’s a start.” He snapped his fingers again, and the darkness in the room seemed to recoil, lifting like fog under sunlight. “Very well, then. I’ll give you what you need. But a fair warning—things in this world often come with strings attached.”

“Spare us the theatrics,” Dean snapped, though his voice betrayed a hint of relief. “Just tell us where to find the damned witch and the knife to kill her.”

Crowley’s attention shifted reluctantly back to the elder Winchester. “She’s not far from here. Runs a little apothecary down on Royal Street. You’ll know it when you see it.” He glanced at you one last time, that glimmer of interest still evident in his gaze. “Do be careful, kitten. It would be a shame if I didn’t get to see you again.”

You turned on your heel and headed for the door with Sam and Dean in tow, trying to ignore the way your heart was beating a little faster than it should have been. You’d expected Crowley to be dangerous, charming even, but you hadn’t expected the encounter to linger like this.

As the three of you stepped back outside, Dean shot you a look, his brow furrowing. “You alright?”

You nodded, not quite trusting your voice yet. “Yeah,” you replied after a moment. “I’m fine.”

But as you walked back to the Impala, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d left something behind in that room with Crowley—a piece of yourself, a curiosity awakened. And as much as you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d seen something in you that even you didn’t fully understand.

Inside the Impala, you replayed his words in your mind—You’ve got potential. You weren’t sure if it was a compliment or a warning, but it echoed there in the back of your thoughts, lingering like the smoke and shadows you’d left behind.

Crowley had planted a seed of doubt in you—a small, insidious thing. And as the engine rumbled back to life, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he knew exactly what he was doing all along.

[girlinthemirrorbluenight-library]

Suptober Day 26 // Enchanted

🎶 I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss...

[alligatorpie1945]

Reblog for bigger testing

I’m just so curious

[fandomofisolation]

I don't hyperfixate. I omnifixate. Panfixate, if you will. When I develop an obsession with a new piece of media, it just gets slotted into the rotation with all the others. My brain is a clown car of babygirls.

[castielsprostate]

reblog for more opinions <3