#tfw this was supposed to be answered privately

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

first half let’s go!!!

-okay this soundtrack is already ELITE

-rsc always pops off with the music

-WHOA

-COOL SPECIAL EFFECTS

-i love a good prologue

-and i’m obsessed with prologue’s dress AND that gold globe she’s in

-“sixty and nine” nice :)

-okay this production is already popping off in every way possible

-wait is that a motorcycle

-is this like mad max fury road

-“beginning in the middle…” other actors: “WHAT???” lol

-SNAPS for the prologue

-oh hey it’s oliver ford davies!

-troilus is such a puppy dog

-“don’t tell me how OUT OF MY LEAGUE she is”

-seriously troilus is so romeo coded

-GOTH LADY AENEAS. OMG.

-also wait isn’t this the actress who played the provost in the measure for measure production i saw? (edit: yes she is)

-tfw you have to send your would be girlfriend’s uncle to woo her for you

-go cressida

-wait so is his wooing strategy to go “hey hot ladies like troilus you should like troilus also let’s talk about chin hair”????

-i feel like you could make a pun on forked here

-buddy cressida is not laughing. you are the only one laughing.

-helenus is so awkward

-pandarus i think you might be gay for troilus

-“i’m gonna play hard to get”

-what is agamemnon wearing

-is this just a greek “who can speechify the most” contest

-ulysses’ solution for everything is Trickiness, as always

-hector just went “i wanna fight someone. i wanna fight ANYONE.” which is entirely in character

-okay but doesn’t that seem like the fastest way to get yourself killed. like show up and wait for someone from the enemy side to show up. what if a bunch of people show up. what then,

-“but *i* want more glory in battle why does achilles get all of it”

-ajax: just walk up to some guy, call them a son of a bitch, and punch them in the face because…reasons?

-is thersites the fool of this play? because thersites is giving fool vibes

-ACHILLES AND PATROCLUS COME IN WITH THEIR PANTS DOWN GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY

-they’re all just carrying thersites like a baby lol

-I shall cut out your tongue./’Tis no matter. I shall speak as much as thou afterwards.” LMAOOOOOOOOOO

-thersites IMMEDIATELY clocked them

-helen isn’t even HERE at this meeting about what they’re supposed to do with her

-…does troilus have a crush on helen?

-not just a thousand ships, ABOVE a thousand ships

-FUCK YEAH WE GET CASSANDRA

-ooh! Cassandra is being played by a Deaf actor and she has an interpreter!

-gives a whole ‘nother layer to “no one believes cassandra”

-they COVERED HER MOUTH AND DRAGGED HER OFFSTAGE oh my god

-at least hector kinda believes her?

-historical accuracy does not exist. they are talking about aristotle in the trojan war lmaoooooooo

-hector is the only person here with any good points

-prologue is watching and giving them all huge side eye

-yay thersites is back!

-WAIT A SECOND

-I JUST REALIZED THAT PROLOGUE IS HELEN

-OMG SO HELEN *WAS* THERE AND SHE WAS THE ONE GIVING THEM SIDE EYE

-thersites: *flops on floor for like two seconds*

thersites: well, i said my prayers

good for you

-gay vibes. gay vibes everywhere.

-thersites is just a silly guy

-agamemnon: i’m sending a guy with you to make sure you and achilles don’t bang instead of answering my question

-at this point this play is not about troilus and cressida. it should just be called “achilles and patroclus…and helen”

-ah yes, let achilles “sleep”

-the musicians are VIBING and i love that for them

-“why did you interrupt our private concert :(“

-“what? troilus and cressida? noooooooo. totally not dating. not like they’re the title characters of the play or anything”

-helen is Not Vibing

-omg this is so awkward

-well that was a smarmy comment pandarus

-oh cressida

-they are so cute

-“to be wise and love exceeds man’s might” …well that explains every romantic idiot ever

-okay this whole scene was so adorable except for pandarus

-like get OUTTA here pandarus you’re ruining the moment

-THAT WAS SUCH AN OUT OF POCKET JOKE

and that’s intermission! this is���kinda uneven imo but it’s a lot of fun and that last scene had no right being so adorable

okay so i got a request from the lovely @enbymoomin to watch troilus and cressida, so…here we go!!!

more to come later

[estrel]

suptober20 day 30 prompt: dress up (ficlet) | tfw 2.0, destiel | ~2.4k words

read on ao3 | read all my past suptober20 prompts

“Are we really doing this?”

Dean was already fitted into jeans and a white button-down that had been buried somewhere deep inside his closet. He’d just finished combing his hair through with his fingers, spritzing it with water to get that off-shore look about him.

“Sure, Dean,” Sam smiles, “It’s for Jack. C’mon, the kid’s three. We can at least do this. Besides, what’s the harm in it?”

Dean crosses his arms. He doesn’t have a good argument, and he knows it.

“I’ve just never…you know, played dress up before. You can’t blame me for being uneasy.”

“Sure we have, Dean. We dress up for cases all the time.”

“That’s different.” He stares at Sam a moment. “Hang on,” Dean points a finger at him, “who did he tell you to dress up as?”

Sam smirks, finishing with the buttons on his black button-up and finally turning to him to answer. “Guess you’ll find out.”

“Hey! Not fair,” Dean motions to himself and his attire. “He wouldn’t even tell me who I was supposed to be. What story are we doing? Shouldn’t I, y’know, be getting a script, or something?”

“Dean, this is playing dress up for our kid, not dress rehearsal for an award-winning film of the year. Just—take a deep breath, relax. I’m sure you’ll be happy with who Jack wanted you to be.”

Dean isn’t convinced, but follows Sam nevertheless into the Dean Cave, where Jack had asked them all to meet after getting dressed. They were the first ones there, so Dean flops on the couch and turns on the tv. Sam almost immediately yanks the remote away and sits down next to him, flipping channels.

“What the hell? This is called the Dean Cave for a reason.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam yawns, “You owe me for the case in Iowa.”

Dean grimaces but rests again against the couch, watching Sam flip between some murder mystery show and a documentary from National Geographic during alternating commercial breaks, until he feels boredom start to kick in.

He hangs his head back on the couch, about to let his eyes slide closed when he sees the upside-down figures of Jack and Cas step through the doorway. Dean’s head jerks up then, clinging to the blue he’d gotten a flash of, and he twists in his seat to get a better look.

It was blue, alright. It was Cas, dressed in a blue button-down and a darker blue vest on top, hair mussed so that it looked like he had just gotten out of bed. Jack, beside him, wore a red hoodie and jeans.

What the hell kind of story were they about to play?

“You look great,” Jack grins. Sam turns around to look too, then, shutting off the tv. “Both of you!”

“Jack, will you finally tell us what this is about?” Cas asks, exasperated. He pulls absentmindedly at the hem of his vest.

Dean watches as Jack and Sam share a look.

“Hold on, were you two,” Dean glances between both of them, “Were you two plotting something?”

Sam shrugs, trying to hide a smile. “Plot what? The story already exists, Dean. We’re just going to…act it out.”

“What story?” Cas frowns.

Dean feels his heartbeat speed up, looking to Jack for the answer.

“The Little Mermaid!”

He lets out a shaky breath.

“Seriously?” Dean asks. Sam nudges his shoulder, chiding him.

“Yes! Cas reads me a lot of stories before I go to bed, and he told me the tale of the little mermaid. It sounded…familiar,” Jack glances at Sam again, “So I thought it’d be a good idea to see if dressing up would jog my memory.”

“Familiar,” Cas says. He stares down at Jack with confusion. “Jack, none of us here are mermaids.”

“Yeah, and who exactly did you make us dress up as?” Dean adds on. He looks around at all of them, trying to reign in his distant, foggy memory of the one time he’d gotten a glimpse of the movie.

Jack smiles and points at himself, “I’m Sebastian, because he’s my favorite.”

Dean turns his gaze Sam for help. “The crab,” Sam whispers. Dean nods like he knows what that means.

“Sam’s Ursula,” Jack continues, clearing his throat to say the next part in one quick exhale, “Dean-is-Prince-Eric, and Cas-is-Ariel.”

Dean blinks at him, mouth dry. “What?”

“I believe he said that you are the prince,” Cas responds, eyes studying the ground. “And…”

“And you’re…”

“The princess,” Sam finished for both of them.

They all look at Sam, who shrugs and stands up. “Well, time to get this show on the road! Where do you want us, Jack?”

“Now, wait a minute,” Dean holds up a hand, brain still processing, working over the implications of what Sam just said. “Just how far into this are we going?”

Sam looks down at Dean with an evil glint in his eye.

“I think we can fast forward through the beginning parts where it’s just Ariel and get to the part where she meets the prince,” Jack suggests.

“Jack–” Cas protests, but Jack’s already dragging him over to the couch and plopping him down next to Dean.

“Alright,” Jack holds his hands up, as if to set the scene. “So Ariel, you’ve just saved Dean—I mean, Prince Eric—from drowning in the ocean. Eric, you’re still unconscious on the sand.”

“Un–?”

Jack pulls out a small slip of paper for Cas to take.

“What’s this?” Cas asks.

“Your lines!”

“So there is a script!” Dean glares over at Sam, who’s crouched on the other side of the couch. “What are you hiding over there for?”

Sam peeks his head over the back of the couch. “Well, I’m not in this scene. I wasn’t there when you—I mean, Ursula isn’t there when Ariel saves Eric.”

Dean narrows his eyes at his brother, trying to ignore the way his nerves had started to bubble up for no reason.

“Jack, I can’t—” Cas starts to say, eyes skimming his lines, but Jack shushes him and goes around to the back of the couch to hide with Sam.

“Hey, we’re doing this for you, and you’re not even watching?” Dean asks, heart hammering in his chest.

“It’s a private moment!” Jack whisper-shouts. “Besides, we can hear you from here. Just play your part, Dean, and act like you’re asleep.”

Dean sighs. Sounds easy enough.

He moves so that he lays flat on the couch, fighting his own lungs to keep his breathing even. He glances at Cas once, gaging from his slightly panicked expression that Cas had reservations about doing this as well, before closing his eyes and letting Cas take the wheel on this one.

Dean hears Cas clear his throat.

“Is he…dead?” Cas asks. Dean resists the urge to open his eyes at that, smiling a little instead. This was ridiculous.

“I can’t hear his heartbeat!” Sam says from behind the couch. Dean hears Sam and Jack giggle at the tone of voice Sam had put on. Dean’s smile turns into a grin.

“No, look, he’s breathing,” Cas says in the most monotonous tone of voice that is so Cas that Dean has to force down a chuckle.

But the thought to laugh fades quickly when he feels a hand rest gently—carefully—on his face, cupping his cheek and jaw. Dean’s breathing stutters. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, feeling the rest of Cas looming over him like a cloud.

“He’s so beautiful,” Cas continues. It still sounds to Dean like Cas is forcing the words out, but Dean can honestly barely hear them anyway over the sound of his heart beating against his rib cage.

“I would…” Cas falters. Tries again. “I would give anything to live here on earth with you, to see you smile at me. If we could stay here forever, where would we go? Just…just you and I? If I was part of your world…”

Dean opens his eyes, met with Cas’ blue ones staring down at him intently. Cas withdraws his hand and sits back on his calves, holding onto the paper Jack gave him like his life depended on it. Dean swallows hard.

The moment is broken when Sam pops his head up above the couch with a wide smile.

“Ahh…I’m Ursula!! What do you want, Ariel?”

Cas looks lost. “I don’t know…Jack didn’t give me a script for this part.”

“You’re the one that read the story to him, Cas,” Sam deadpans. “You don’t need a script.”

“But then why—”

“Hurry up, Cas!” Jack’s voice says from his spot on the floor.

Cas rolls his eyes. “Fine. Um…hello, Ursula…I’ve come to uh, ask for a favor.”

“Yes?” Sam drawls.

“I want to go on land to meet Prince Eric. Can you, by chance, bless me with bipedalism?”

Sam presses his lips together to contain a laugh, continuing when he’s got it under control, “Perhaps. But for a price!”

Cas stares, waiting for Sam to continue. When he doesn’t, Cas sighs. “What price?”

“You have a beautiful voice, Ariel. If you want to go on land, then I want to take your voice. Hand it over,” Sam outstretches his hand towards Cas who, frowning down at it, makes a motion over his throat, like he’s extracting his voice to give to Sam. Dean thinks the gesture is oddly familiar.

Sam waves his hand around like he’s doing some type of magic. By now, Dean has calmed down enough to huff out a laugh.

“There. Now you have legs. Go find your prince.”

Sam disappears back behind the couch, and Jack pops his head out next.

“Ariel! That was a bad idea! But I will help you go to land because I am your friend. Let’s go!” Jack grabs Cas’ hand over the couch and drags him to go hide with himself and Sam. A few moments later, just when Dean is about to ask what the hell he should be doing, Cas reappears back on the couch.

“Uh…hi?” Dean asks, before remembering that Cas isn’t supposed to speak. He leans over the side of the couch to where Jack and Sam are.

“What do I do now?”

Jack looks up at him. “We can just skip to the part where you guys are on your date on the boat.”

Dean stares, wondering how much trouble he would get into if he reached over and wrapped his hands around Jack’s neck for putting him through this.

“Don’t worry, Dean, you don’t have to say much, just make casual conversation, ask him his name. It’s mostly my lines, anyway.”

Dean turns back to Cas, who looks like he wants to say something more than he has ever wanted to in his life. Dean thanks Jack, at least, that it was up to Dean to lead their fake date, instead of Cas with his frankly horrible improv skills.

“So…I think we’ve met before, but I don’t know your name,” Dean starts, looking anywhere but at Cas. “Since you can’t talk…should I take a guess?”

Cas shrugs, but Dean takes it as a yes, to move the story along. Of course, he already knows what it is, but he might as well humor the kid some more while he’s already here.

“Is it…uh, is it Cassandra?”

Cas frowns at him. Dean smiles back cheekily. “How about Anna? No? Not Anna?”

“Ariel, it’s Ariel!” Jack whispers.

“Ariel?” Dean asks. Cas nods. “That’s a pretty name, Ariel.”

“This is the perfect time,” Jack starts to say, “to make a move! Eric, you should kiss her, and give her her voice back!”

Dean’s stomach sinks. He nearly tips the couch over with how quickly he looks back over the side. “Do what?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam says, “I forgot one of my lines, earlier. Uh, the only way Ariel can break the spell and get her voice back is if Eric kisses her.”

Dean grips the couch cushions so hard, his knuckles turn white.

“No way–”

“Just a kiss on the cheek, Dean,” Jack gives him puppy-dog eyes. “It’s not for real. Please?”

“Jack, you can’t ask Dean to–” Cas tries.

“Ariel, you don’t have your voice back yet,” Sam says, cutting Cas off before he can finish. Cas shuts his mouth. “Go on, Dean, it can just be a hug.”

Dean turns back to Cas. Just a hug. They’ve hugged before. This would be fine. Normal, even.

So he nods and leans forward, wrapping his arms around Cas in a hug. He feels Cas’ hands on his back, fisting the fabric of his shirt, and when Dean pulls away it’s only far enough back that he and Cas are nose to nose. His eyes flit down to Cas’ lips, and then back to Cas’ eyes. His breath hitches in his chest, heart racing—

No. 

Dean pulls away.

Sam and Jack were just inches away from them. They were pretending. It wasn’t real.

He got up, abruptly, and stormed out of the Dean Cave without a word, just about done with the shenanigans he’d had to endure for the night. When he got to his room, Dean pushed the door shut with a thud, and flopped onto the bed as if the mattress were a black hole.

A few minutes had passed—or maybe it was more than a few minutes, Dean wasn’t exactly sure—when there was a knock on his door. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. The door opened anyway.

“Leave.”

There were footsteps, and a dip on the mattress next to him. Dean turns over to see who it is. 

Cas was playing with his fingers nervously. “I’m sorry, Dean. That um,” he shakes his head a little, “that went too far.”

Cas was still wearing his stupid blue shirt and the stupid blue vest and his hair was still ruffled, and Dean was still angry. So he grabbed Cas’ hands to stop him from picking at them, and brought his other hand to Cas’ face like Cas had done to him earlier.

This time, Dean didn’t think. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a kiss, letting his frustration and pent up emotions show through to Cas in the only way he could think of.

When they pulled away, Cas was looking at him with what looked like confusion and worry. Dean tilted his head.

“What?” he asked.

“Was that…was that kiss real or just…part of the story?”

Dean breathes out a gentle laugh. “Both, Cas,” he says. “It was both.”

-

tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@castiels-a-winchester​ @jellydeans​@writtenmemxries​ @cestladean​ @randomblabbling​ @fluffiestlou​ @samhainsam​ @weird-dorky-little-deana​ @bloodyhandprint​ @hunteriheroicii​ @friedchickenangelwings​ @galaxycastiel​ @destiel67​ @destielle​ @dickspeightjrs​ @on-a-bender​ @organicpurplepants​ @casbelieves​ @boy-king​ @spacegirlstuff​ @seffersonjtarship​ + @winchester-reload

[abpoli]

I work in oil and gas. I saw first hand what sort of shit the PCs pulled. I saw Jason Kenney's federal handiwork as Immigration Minister at work with unqualified TFWs being brought onto sites and blowing up propane cylinders because they all had faked their qualifications and didn't understand anything. I saw hundreds of people lose their jobs because of poor planning from previous governments. I got a front row seat to incredible shitshow that was carbon capture, where the client's engineers were actively talking about what a white elephant carbon capture was, and how it was a giant make work project at the province's expense. I helped build extraction facilities that were slated from the start to funnel our money to the US, extraordinarily blatantly to a Calumet refinery in Montana that was designed solely to profit at the expense of Canadians. I saw the only value-added project at NWR come around because Redford was trying to use it as a Hail Mary to distract people, which, by the way, was notorious as being never really supposed to happen outside of the surveying and being a way for Stelmach's ranching buddies to sell the province their land at a premium over a premium.

And on the commercial side of things, well, I'm well aware of the scramble that's come around because of our failing infrastructure. Amazing what happens when you don't build things where they're needed. Things like new hospitals to serve growing areas, which, I'm sorry to inform you, are not really rural areas. But do end up serving rural areas, when they end up driving to Edmonton or Calgary when they need the sort of services that need to have things like dedicated lab networks, which can only really exist where there is everyone that has to staff all of those primary and supporting services.

There was a huge thing about the previous PC governments, that that was crony capitalism. I'd never vote for anyone out to destroy the people that built this province. Or their kids, whether they're little gay kids that need a GSA for support or ones trying to fund post-secondary that don't deserve to be paid less for their hard work. Or the health care system, which, interestingly enough, is mostly inefficient because of our incredibly overbuilt rural health care network. It's awesome, because everyone deserves the right to be healthy and not have to be med-evaced everywhere. But I know that if I was looking for something to slash to bring down costs, that would be a pretty tempting cherry. Assuming that it's not outright privatized.

The fact of the matter is is that Alberta succeeded in spite of our governments. And we finally have a premier who's not looking to line their own pockets or reward their friends with sweetheart contracts. And you want to go back to that, because you've got rose coloured glasses on. Well, I sincerely hope that you can afford the consequences, because it's gonna fall on every single person who's not a "job creating" business owner. Things like toll roads (which, interestingly enough, will cost the rural Albertan more than me), public-private partnerships that never work out right but end up enriching shareholders out of the taxpayer's pocket, and catering to the charter schools of faith-supremacist groups at the expense of our public school systems.

But yeah, let's act like the Carbon Tax is the big problem. And that if we axe the provincial one, the federal one won't instantly come into play and take all that money out of the province. Because that's the biggest thing about it, that if we don't have a provincial one in place, the federal one comes in, and it's Ottawa that decides where the funds from that one goes. And it sure won't be Alberta, because that's not efficient at buying votes. Dumping it into BC, or the Maritimes, or Quebec... that's bang for your buck at a federal level. Sure, Trudeau might not be leader next election, but he is now. And that's where he'll dump it. Andrew Scheer, on the other hand, talks a big game about dumping it, but he'll almost certainly be seduced by the idea of a giant slush fund that he can try and shore up support in Ontario with. Why kill the golden goose when you can make omelets, after all? And why spend in Alberta, when Alberta has shown that they'll vote for a blue rock even if a Conservative government changes the equalization formula to funnel even more money to Quebec from Alberta (ask Kenney about that one, after all, he was part of the government that drafted that revision and he voted for it personally).

If you're looking for someone to blame for the devastation, then it's probably best that we all take the late Jim Prentice's advice, and look in the mirror. Because he was right, and it was all our faults for electing Don Getty. And letting Ralph Klein blow up a hospital so he could pay for a cardboard sign. And for letting Ed Stelmach have an entire mandate dictated by backroom party hacks. And for letting Alison Redford live her petro-shiekh fantasies on our dime. At least we showed Prentice what happens when you come down from on high without any real answers. But hey, Jason Kenney totally won't be like the rest. It's not like he started out on the payroll of US lobby groups taking pet issue stances for pay. It's not like he sold out Canadians by rubber stamping TFWs and letting big companies do whatever they want, federally. And it's not like he hasn't come out and said that his platform is going to hurt Albertans (to be fair, that was one of his candidates, and he just didn't refute it).

But yeah, the NDP are the problem for trying to deal with 40 years of mismanagement. So let's get rid of someone competent who's stood up for Albertans because they started in the worst case scenario and has been steadily working to bring things back to the best of what this province can be. After all, Rachel Notley won her leadership race fair and square, so obviously she can't be devious enough to drive this province back into being a dumpster fire, since she didn't have a federal MP's job to get paid not to do while rigging a leadership campaign against rivals.

Also, because I forgot:

THE PREMIER OF ALBERTA DOES NOT SET OIL PRICES.

Which, you know, is one huge reason that we've had problems with revenues besides slashing the tax base. And I do mean YUUUUUUUUUUGE, with a Y, because it comes right out of the supply side handbook.

Stolen from Sterling Matan on facebook.

[mittensmorgul]

I recently read a fic on ao3 and it was funny and great and then I thought of a few major changes that would make it even more hilarious. Problem is, I don't know the etiquette here. Should I just go ahead and write my own version? Add a link to the original story and credit it as inspiration? It was based on a prompt so the idea isn't exclusively the author's I suppose. Anyway I'll only be borrowing the start scenario (which is the prompt) and there will be no other similarities. Please help

Hello there. I’m gonna start what I expect will be kind of a long essay by saying there is an awful lot to unpack here… Starting with the fact that there is a chasm of difference between taking inspiration from a prompt fill fic and imagining an entirely different scenario, and starting that from a mentality of “I can do better than you.” The first is at the root of all of human creativity. We all bounce off one another and take inspiration from each other, and the entire history of human storytelling is essentially one long conversation. But the second part of this historically leads to fisticuffs. No, really. Google “famous literary feuds” for all the reasons why.

It’s not so much a difference in practical terms, but in your approach and understanding here.

So this is why I saw this ask in my inbox late last night and decided I needed to go to sleep rather than trying to answer you right away. But now I have coffee, so let’s give this a try. :P

I’d start by asking what the source of the prompt was. Was it a tumblr post? A prompt from a prompt list? Even one of those “pick a pairing and a prompt and I’ll write a short ficlet” posts? If so, you’re probably free to use the prompt by going back to the original fic prompt list. People publish those as jumping off points to write fic, and they actively WANT people to use them this way.

If the prompt, however, was given to a specific author by someone, you might want to at least ask that author if it would be okay for you to write something of your own based on the prompt. And at least try not to frame it as “I can write something better than you did” when you ask. That’s just rude and demoralizing for the author who’s already published a fic for that prompt, you know?

I get fic ideas all the time from random places, but there’s a different etiquette for each of them.

Sometimes a random tumblr post will give me an idea, and I’ll go talk to the OP privately, both because it’s FUN to talk about someone’s wild headcanon with them, and because you’re approaching the person who had the initial idea with courtesy and in the spirit of collaboration, rather than from this place of “stealing their idea.” The first builds good fandom feelings, while the second tends to do the opposite. I have a couple of experiences here that will hopefully illustrate the difference.

A few years back, when Lizbob was running the Great Meta Scavenger Hunt during s12, it led to the creation of the Great Fic Writer Scavenger Hunt. The theory behind it was that any number of authors could take the same fic prompt based on a single trope paired with a single distinctive character trait and the results would all be entirely unique stories. The intent was to prove that just because an idea had been written before, it becomes a new story when written by someone else, you know? And it was TRUE.

http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/tagged/the-great-fic-writer-scavenger-hunt/chrono

We had DOZENS of authors participate, and despite all writing “the same story” every week, NONE of the resulting stories were even remotely the same.

On the other hand, I posted an insomnia-inspired headcanon a few months ago, and within five minutes after posting it, my insomnia brain– with an assist from a more rational point of view thanks to lizbob– had taken that little notion and spun it out into long fic in my head. I went back to my original post to laugh at myself in a reblog, announcing that I was gonna write long fic of the thing and for people to stay tuned for more, but other folks had already reblogged the original with comments to the effect of, “Someone should write this fic!” The worst thing was that other authors were tagged into it. As if my highly specific headcanon was suddenly communal property. Because the implication behind it– whether it was the truth or not– felt like “I like this headcanon, but have decided that I don’t want the OP to actually write this story because I like XYZ author’s writing better.”

And I know that was not the intent of the folks who added those comments to my post, but as someone who actively writes fic for this fandom, it felt like a slap in the face.

Now if those same people had replied, “OP please write more of this!” or “What a cool idea!” or even if they’d come to me privately and said, “Hey this is a cool idea, do you mind if I use it to write a longer fic?” I would’ve been HAPPY about it.

Can you see the difference here, anon?

The result was a rather frustrating back and forth where I was told that because I posted the idea in public it was effectively free real estate for anyone else to squat on. I mean, isn’t that what we’re all doing with the source material we base all our fan creations on anyway? We don’t ask the Supernatural writers for permission to use their characters, their settings, their intellectual property to create our own stories and art, right?

But the difference here is apparently too subtle for some folks to grasp. The Supernatural writers aren’t part of our fandom community. And the culture within fandom operates on different rules. Fandom creators are not source creators, and yes we all collectively “steal” from the same source, but it sort of defies the underlying premise that fandom creators as a whole are operating on the same level to suggest that “stealing” from another fandom creator is the same thing.

From my understanding, the entire point of fandom creators doing what they do is to build a community together around the thing we all love. There is a way to do that in good faith, through collaboration and the free sharing of ideas and creations.

I hope this makes sense.

The result of all of that was that I set aside another project I’d been wanting to write and instead began spite writing my own headcanon post. It was like pulling teeth at first, because there was so much Bad Fandom Feeling attached to the concept that the words just didn’t want to come. It’s FINALLY flowing now, though (after several months of the aforementioned teeth-pulling), and is nearing 18k words. I’m hoping it’ll be done and ready to post by the end of March, so I can FINALLY go back to writing the thing I’d originally wanted to work on before this nonsense blew up.

I’ve also unfortunately been one of the authors tagged in on someone else’s headcanon post in the past. I know the folks who do this think it’s flattering, and they’re just excited about an idea and want to read more of it, but the correct etiquette is ALWAYS to approach the OP in PRIVATE before taking their idea and writing it yourself, or pointing another author in the direction of the post and suggesting they write it for you.

I can guarantee you that 99 times out of 100, the OP will actually be flattered you enjoyed their idea so much you want to read more of it if you frame it from a place of appreciation and excitement, rather than from a place of selfish entitlement or superiority.

I’ve talked about this before, but this is how I have always approached fic writing. I got my first idea for a long fic from the Valentine’s Day Collab fic that Winjennster ran back in 2015. I told her I had an idea based on her prompt that I wanted to write as a much longer fic than would fit into the 3k limit for the collab, and she told me to go forth and be fruitful with my words. Actually, I think her exact words were more like “HELL YES! YOU DO THAT!” or something, but the spirit was the same. :P

The next fic I wrote (Project Beyonce) was inspired by a series of tumblr crack posts about “what sort of tumblr blogs would each member of TFW run?” And I reblogged them with commentary about how this would make a hilarious fic, because they were that sort of “conversational thread” of crack headcanons where that sort of addition was more than welcome. Not to mention I was already on friendly terms with the other participants in the thread, so it wasn’t strange for me to zoom in out of the blue and announce I was writing fic inspired by those posts. Even though my fic was set in an AU, and the only commonality was the fact that Dean and Cas were on tumblr. Nothing else about my fic was even remotely similar to the canon crack headcanons from those posts, and I don’t think that anyone involved in the original threads was upset that I’d written fic based on Dean being Cas’s favorite tumblr anon…

My first DCBB (Revenge of the Subtext) was inspired by a crack post made by @nicelimabean. One single sentence about Jensen and Jared walking into a con dressed like Sam and Dean and covered in dirt and blood, and suddenly I had 80k of fic running through my head. I sat there and stared at her post for like five minutes and then went immediately to the chat bubbles to ask– nay, beg– to use her post as a fic prompt for the DCBB. We talked it over for a good long while, both of us growing more excited as the ideas spun out, and long story short, not only did I make a wonderful fandom friend, she ended up beta reading for me and being an ongoing source of encouragement and support in fandom. We even met in person at a con (!) and spent the weekend cackling about how everything felt like a reference to RotS (since at the time we were the only two people on the planet who’d read the fic or even knew what it was about, because DCBB rules of secrecy).

Since then, I’ve gotten ideas for fic from tumblr (and always asked the OP for permission to write their idea– like for fic such as Plotbunny which was based on the combination of ideas from @bluestar86 on a WONDERFUL way to confirm Dean’s bisexuality in canon and Lizbob’s long desire for an Easter Bunny episode, combined with the fact that Easter fell on April Fool’s Day last year… to ideas for The Terminal Job based on chats with @truebluecas about an airport AU WHICH I AM SO SORRY STROB I STILL HAVE IT ON MY LIST TO WRITE AND I SWEAR I WILL WRITE IT EVENTUALLY D:

I’ve also had the reverse happen, where someone read one of my fics and was inspired to write their own fic based on Revenge of the Subtext. They approached me in private with the idea and asked for my blessing to write it. Honestly, I was FLOORED that anyone would be inspired by my words like that, and eagerly encouraged them to write their idea. I’ve also had people give me fic ideas in comments on AO3, in chats both on tumblr and Discord, which turned into longer conversations and eventually more fic (or at the very least to ideas on my To Be Written list). But I always ALWAYS ask permission from the other person or people before writing their ideas. And I have NEVER been told that I was not permitted. People are usually PLEASED that their ideas are deemed worthy by another writer, you know? It’s exciting!

This also goes for art inspired by fic, but in a slightly different way. If someone (anyone!) was inspired to draw something based on something I wrote, I will UNIVERSALLY BE THRILLED that my words inspired someone’s creativity in a different medium. But the key here is it’s a different medium. Nobody ever has to ask permission to art my fic. But that’s not the same as wanting to rewrite my fic into a different story, you know?

Not to mention, collaborating and asking permission and sharing the enthusiasm for an idea or a story like this with others has the potential to boost ALL of your creations. You could build resentment in fandom from other creators, or you can all lift each other up. Starting from the standpoint of communal excitement can result in mutual promotion of each other’s works, you know? Do you want a built-in cheerleader for your work, to build connections in fandom that will eventually support ALL of your works? Then your approach to sharing ideas this way is the key that could potentially unlock that door, or conversely lock it behind you. Your choice, really.

Wait, what was I talking about again? OH right. The whole entire point of fandom. We’re all of us in this same boat, sailing the seas of our chosen Source Material together. You can use your creative abilities for Good, to build communities up, or you can be That Asshole who tries to build themselves up while effectively shading or demoralizing other fandom creators in the process.

So what I’m saying here isn’t necessarily about your desire to write something based on someone else’s idea, but more about the approach you take to it. It costs zero dollars to be polite about it and approach it from a direction of good will and joy in creating for the thing we all love together, you know?

[dayna-scully]

ncis/tiva s6 lb

season 3  |  season 4   |  season 5  |  season 7   |  season 8  |  season 9  |  season 10  |  etc

6x01

je peux pas resister

heeey it’s the Australian again

love child is a really sweet show, but he’s a dick in it

oh I guess Palmer and lee broke up

they’re not your a-team though, gibbs

wow over 4 months

ziva, always getting hurt

math gibberish

oh so pine gap really exists?

stuck with Bad Dad

we miss you, ziver

even, uh, tony

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

(especially tony)

oh I forgot about rivkin cool cool cool cool cool cool

dudnt

you are a geek, offbrand mcgee

I also always forget that ncis is a jag spin off

gibbs, retrieving his ducklings

I really need to come home, boss

you know I love you guys

miss you too dad

😖😖😖😖💔💔💔💔

oh lee

ziva!!!!! ziva!!!!!!!!!!!

he says Abby’s his favourite but let’s be honest

6x02

the origin of my otp tag for tiva

I wish michael weatherly wasn’t such a piece of shit irl

ziva staring at Tony’s empty desk

“all those who care about him” like you, ziva???

the favourite wants to talk to her boyfriend, dad

taller? hotter?/older

you could have called

she would have answered, dinozzo

totally normal platonic professional work behaviour to have multiple pictures of your work partner in a bikini on your wall in your bunk yep

what are those doing on your wall?

gibbs knows what they’re doing there

you get used to seeing someone everyday, talking to them, relying on them, and suddenly they’re not there

(terrible screen shot since they were moving too much but personal space jeez)

doesn’t make it any easier for mcgee

yes, sure, “mcgee”, you two are alone tony, you can say that you missed seeing her every day to her face

y’know, the face that you missed seeing every day

a dwinkaquink

you’re back in dc, which is what you wanted! Isn’t it?

that’s not what I asked

Michael Rivkin happened in Israel

you’re right, I don’t want to talk about it

lotta things take mcgee seconds

Michael who?

seems like old times

home

she loooves him

and still always has to be beside him

6x03

excuse me????????????????

you are such a control geek

hmm ziva feels really violated by Tony’s nosiness

tony…does not seem to get it

McGee found it with his butt

isn’t that just Jenny’s house redecorated

6x04

the same back alley they use every time, too

and other mouth related activities

who’s this tony?

gibbs’ son and ziva’s boyfriend

oh gibbs

6x05

tony is upset that she’s going back to Israel and also that he didn’t know

I am normal people

she got the bothersome part right

normal

me whenever tony and ziva do what tony and ziva always do

what is it you really want to know, tony?

thought you already mcdid that

or maybe his friends lied to him about a romantic attachment

?????? what tony

you would only care this much if you were jealous

nosy dinozzo

rivkin 😡

my ninja

?????????

god damn tony

he’s promoting me to head monkey

why are you showing me mould porn?

tony has a cruuuush

6x06

tony is going to make so many jokes

you certainly have your moments

he has his moments

lets see who the boss likes better/ziva

I told you she was his favourite

no personal space

wasn’t my type though/really? She was breathing

I have standards, ziva, otherwise I’d be dating you

suuuuuuure tony sure

6x07

ziva’s jealous of the recruit

your weird uncle jethro

a baby agent

ziver

6x08

oh come on seriously

same z

don’t say the word war game

well that did not go as planned

she’d kill all of them with her bare hands to get tony back

we never have to pay for a drink again

OH ELEVATOR

she’d kill to protect him

I’m tired of pretending/so am I

oh ziva

oh. That’s much worse.

tony knows it’s a part of the plan

McGee evidently doesn’t

circling sharks

6x09

tony knows about a very private tattoo 👀👀👀

they really like killing off women

6x10

that dude is 23?

this is less “you’re a lech” and more “please love me”

I always thought cougars like young guys

get dunked dinozzo

eat the rich

I like to have fun in more…adult ways

wanna go on a movie date, ziva?

6x11

oof mcgoo

6x12

her name is Hannah, she’s asked me out to lunch twice

that face says that ziva did accept

6x14

that’s actually pretty cruel

but like…McGee…likes tony

haven’t I taught you anything?

that amount of zoom is literally not possible

you cannot make pixels where there are none

why not just ghost him?

siblingsss

6x15

I miss s4 mature tony

ngl ziva shooting is pretty hot

there is a smurf war

la Bonita

they always have to be within three feet of each other

nice talking to ya Leon

too bad there aren’t little gibblets running around

6x16

😟are you going back to Mexico

we’ve just never heard you say that much at once

tfw you make your dad proud

6x17

don’t trust people who offer help in a case

oooh a hit man

6x18

it’s not likely he was shot by a bird

maybe you should be looking for something a little closer to home

yes, approximately 8 feet from your desk, z

but he’s fucking ancient

“pick the right woman” ye ye ye ye ye ye ye ye ye ye ye ye ye

6x19

what are you up to mcsneaky

little sister can’t tell them what to do

poor trash panda

6x20

damn girl

fuckin cowboy move

you’re the real victim here, aren’t you wall

6x21

all she can think about is tony when he’s not around

6x22

ugh backdoor pilot

Tele-friend from tel Aviv?/you’re jealous

yes, he has a name

why does that bother me so much

cover for me?

go? gone.

ahh, personal, not professional

the duck man is on the right track!!

I’m thinking she’s worried about something

oh tony

how did he not know about what happened?

Special Investigation, top Secret

a real lead? I mean, really, a lead?

angry, scared tony

ziva lied to someone she loved, but this time he found out

6x23

I always forgot that Michael is the one they’re after in 22

you did not think I would identify him

don’t ask that question

like how well you know him?

gibbo is worried about his daughter

6x24

I’m up a tree

oh tony oh dear

she’s so hurt

he would never date a coworker but he’s definitely thinking about it

I think “bad” is an understatement for how that went

6x25

this season is soooo looong

tony done fucked up

don’t lie to your dad ziva

you wanted to protect her

that music is so incongruous

a cruel way to get the truth for ziva, but effective

why do people always put the blame on ziva

it’s never actually her fault

for you

you felt it was you job to protect me?

but I should have been

oh z

I suppose this is ziva being on Jeanne’s side of the situation

and of course when ziva realizes she’s loyal to gibbs, he leaves her behind

LIKE AN ASSHOLE

oof

one short

she asked you to choose so you chose tony

Oh yes giving her time ends up being SUCH a fantastic choice gibbs

like why this assumption that ziva would just…live a normal life in Israel?

[elizabethrobertajones]

I'm genuinely curious and I'm sure you've talked about it before but what're your headcanons on Cas & Dean getting together in the show? How different do you think what you would like to see vs. what might actually happen are? I feel like this season is gonna make it harder and more detrimental to keep feelings "strictly platonic" if that makes any sense. I feel like it's pointless for them to keep dancing around each other considering what they've been through in the past 2 seasons especially.

I actually don’t really talk about this or have more than passing headcanons about how to do it usually right in like the next 3 episodes range of coda fics I approve of sort of level >.> At least not that I’m set on or have any real strong feelings about, mostly because I’ve learned to enjoy the show while still living in fandom you really can not let fandom expectations get too deep into your head to the point you’re imagining the show as a sort of interactive pick your own adventure game where you’re desperately trying to turn to page 83 but the show keeps flicking back to page 6 and you’re like WHYYY and scrabbling around feeling like they’re holding the pages down for you or something… Gah, bad metaphor. Double ear ache. I apologise for the quality of blogging around here this week :P 

So I mean what I would LIKE to see or headcanons I have are all of the coda fic formula of just taking the episode a minute past its appropriate end. And I’ll tell you the 2 most jarring moments of my life watching the show were in 10x03 where the episode went past the expected end and Cas walked into the bedroom with Dean but then left again but my heart was hammering the whole time, and to explain it to myself retroactively, 11x04 when the camera stays in the back of the car after they leave the Bunker, talk over the details of the case, and then there’s just this long silence while Dean’s driving and Sam’s sitting there, and it’s just… wrong… The scene is going on past the point we KNOW as viewers it should have cut to the next day when they roll into town, and the silence and the length of the pause were exactly made to pass through a boundary, to transgress what we should be expecting as a viewer. The scene in 12x19 is very similar to the one in 10x03 in set up - Cas walks through the door to Dean alone - but the transgression is only in 10x03 when all the other loose ends are wrapped up and Dean’s cured and Cas could easily have made the same excuse to Sam and left, but instead they pushed through for one character-driven scene of Cas and Dean together, and we were intruding on Dean in privacy with his photos, and we see him react as if he doesn’t want people seeing him doing that, and then Cas comes in and they’re alone together and talk, and there’s no purpose except for personal communication between them. Either Cas leaves, Dean tells him to leave, or he stays and they get together :P And obviously it would be one of the first 2 but it was one of the rare times the show drifted into set up for a coda fic where they were given that privacy and even the hint that this could transgress expectations because it was indisputably the last scene of the episode we could have between members of TFW and all the plot was over so there was nothing for them to discuss except feelings.

I think my expectation for a scene where it’s going to go canon for real will cross some of those same invisible boundary lines and that’s what gets my heart hammering about things on this show. Moments where I’m not sure what it going to happen and I’m out of a comfort zone of being able to confidently say I can predict it all in a rote way, where character reactions are all somewhat reliable. There’s sometimes stray dialogue where they seem to hint so far. The only times recently they got me was the 11x11 line about pining for somebody else. I could feel my heart against my ribs and I got up to walk it off because I thought I would die if I stayed in front of the screen, because it crossed a line of stuff that seemed acceptable to say about Dean in the context of knowing Robbie is very aware of what he’s doing and even on first watch the episode had a lot of Destiel cues in it to go with the Amara surface text (also that means Robbie got me twice in a row and I sort of haven’t forgiven him :P). 

And specifically the giving of the mixtape because the set up to the scene didn’t feel weird at all to me, I was predicting exactly how it would happen until it completely threw me for a loop that they would use an almost always romantic trope (without further context and Dean and Cas are *terrible* context to judge a trope by because they are a trope dispute battleground where mainstream romantic tropes go to Hunger Games it out :P) in the middle of what should have been another round of the subtextually romantic but surface text everything else Destiel is on top of that argument. So yeah that really was a weird moment because it was more like becoming untethered from expectations and I think that’s why 12x23 still hasn’t really hit a place in my heart yet because I’m still seeing the last shot of Dean and Cas in my eyelids when I blink and the boundary-crossing it did is surreal to me because the line I drew behind it once upon a time was how to make it canon in the worst possible way if they were going to fuck with us >.> 

I guess that’s a 3rd one. But anyway. It was so weird. Like… that feeling of not quite believing it? I think there’s a lot of joking we do about it but there’s actually expectations and we will ALWAYS expect Dean and Cas’s language or language about them to single them out as a partnership. Or the oddly specific clarifications like we/I need you, I love you/all of you. Or Dean and Cas to get into a stinking argument while Sam’s eyebrows raise to the moon in the background and he clears his throat until it’s raw. Dean fielding the phonecalls and wandering off in private or going on speaker phone in alarm when Sam comes nearby. There are a LOT of basic expectations I have about how their relationship is written and not many things transcend those lines. Even a lot of the romantic gestures we’ve had since I was watching. Like the end of 10x14, was a “well duh” if you search your heart and only extreme pessimism and distrust in the writing of the show or its patterns and tropes.

Actually 9x18 which got me into the show was another one of those transgressions and a really important one where Robbie (fuck you) really drew attention to stuff you’re not supposed to point out  - not just using the fourth wall break to point out there’s a story, but that it has a subtext and that it’s drawing attention to it. And 10x05 telling us the subtext exists and it belongs to Dean and Cas who are a couple in real life (which is also queer). Now I think about it there are more of these way back when and they’re all Robbie’s fault until recently :P He’s given me at least 4 mild heart attacks. 

Aaaanyway I guess what I’m saying is, the times when I get really dizzy and alarmed about what’s going on is when something doesn’t go like it’s supposed to, and the “supposed to” on this show is a very specific pattern of reactions and stuff which are still romantic and yet because we’re used to them being the telling of Destiel, are actually *boring*. If they repeat them without escalating them, it’s nice to have the continuity and reassuring presence that Dean will always sidle up to Cas and look him head to foot on his arrival in a room (pls someone explain the meeting in 12x12 to me I’m still laughing… You’ve known him how many years and you still do it???) But yeah it’s when things go off-script, as it were, to our expectations. 

So I think it would start normal as hell, the sort of thing you’d always expect them to do, and then something would just be *off* or over some invisible line, like Dean not letting go of a hug too quickly or Cas hovering on the door and not leaving when he meant to, them going to a bar and the conversation halting and one or both of them smiling and looking away after a too-long pause. Something where our expectations can chug along in the moment thinking our smart arse knowledge of these boring old teasy Destiel scenes are doing exactly what they always do - until they don’t, and we’re left reeling. 

(And, incidentally, the mixtape is definitely strike one to my mind, and the escalating panic I felt as the camera seemed to tell us, everything is over now, it’s just Sam and Dean standing outside and Mary and Lucifer are gone and Cas is dead on the floor —– and is Sam looking around at the house and Dean *isn’t* what the FUCK, Sam is going inside - and Dean - he’s still - he’s — they ———— and my brain has been stuck in dashdashdash territory on this subject ever since)

And also sorry for answering this while sick, I hope it’s not terrible but weirdly I think it was something I needed to ramble about even if it wasn’t directly about your question… I don’t think I’ve let myself think about this until new canon is less than a month away and I can start to peer between my fingers after having my hand over my eyes all summer)

[castiel-writerofthelord-blog]

Anniversary

Characters: TFW, SisterWinchester!Reader

Word Count: 2111

Warnings: Angst so hard you’ll bawl. Literally just an entire fic about angst.

A/N: Here it is! Oh my Chuck! Finishing this up today was such a hassle simply because of the amount of tears I had to cry to get through the ending. The fact I’ll have to go through it all again to type it up is gonna wreck me. I didn’t check myself before I wrecked myself. I played myself is what I did.

It’s been three years now. Three years and it hasn’t gotten easier for Sam, for Dean, for Cas. Each anniversary before was just as hard to watch your brothers and love of your life suffer all over again. You should have gone with him when you had the opportunity, but you didn’t; now you’re forced to live out their days watching them suffer. It wasn’t all bad though, for the most part you got the hang of the moving things around just to help them when they needed it most. Never on hunts though, you couldn’t risk going dark side, not to them.

You wandered the bunker’s halls, you wanted to help them out, but Dean sets EMF detectors around the bunker when he gets drunk, and you couldn’t disappoint your brothers, not again.  Now you could’ve gone in between the veil to get around faster, but it meant you were less than human so you reserved it for Baby and other doors.

Almost on cue you heard the quiet sobs of your big brother Sammy. You phased through the door and there he sat, eyes red and puffy, snot ran down his upper lip with one of the last photos of the family in his hand. “You never were the cute crier, Sammy.” Sam stopped and looked around the room as if he heard something. Usually the days were bearable, but seeing your family in so much pain on the anniversary hurt.

“Y/n? Please don’t tell me you’re here.” The hope and worry was strong in Sam; you couldn’t help it. You knew you shouldn’t, but you reached up to the shelf where Sam kept the ouija board he bought shortly after your last hunt and knocked it down. Your older brother jumped, hand on his gun until he saw the board and tensed up. He locked his bedroom door and laid the board out. “Pandabear are you here?” Sam didn’t want an answer, or maybe you didn’t want to give him one. Every fiber of your non-body wanted to ghost out, but you sat on the other side of the board instead and placed your fingertips on the planchette.

H.I.S.A.M.

He let out a breath of relieved air, tears refilling his eyes. “I miss you, Pandabear.”

I.M.I.S.U.2.S.W.

You and Sam talked like this for a good hour until he calmed down enough to tell him you had to check in with the other two nerds of yours. One last message of ‘I love you, Sam’ and guided the planchette down to goodbye and you were up off the floor. Sam looked more at ease knowing you were okay, even if you were now stuck here.

* * * * * * *

Cas was the next one you wanted to visit, but he was going to be the hardest as well. He was an angel, if you weren’t careful he could see and feel you, and quite frankly you weren’t sure if you were ready for that. You made your way to the kitchen where your trench coated angel had his head in the fridge, humming your favourite song as it played on his phone. 

The moment you stepped into the kitchen Cas stopped his food packing and turned his body. He breathed your name the way he did whenever you came back from a hunt, tears in his eyes. In this form you could see his tattered and broken wings, and his true face crying as he rushed to you to wrap his arms around your body, but they just went through it. “Cas, baby, I’m sorry.” You pursed your lips to stop your lower one from shaking as you saw him change; his already sad azurite eyes even sadder.“Why- why are you still here?”

“You won’t like it, baby.”

“Honey bee..” He tilted his head, mouth agape.

“I- I didn’t go with my reaper, Cas.” “Y/n... You know what happens.” He tried to place his callused hand on your cheek, tears freely falling from both yours and Cas’ eyes.

“I know, I’ve lasted this long though.”

You could do this, you needed to, but you’ve never done it before. With a sigh you focused on yourself, wanting to be as solid as you possibly could, still in your bloodied black and white flannel with a tiny panda pin on the collar. It was so hard to keep this form, but you needed it - Cas needed it. You reached out hoping it worked and was pleasantly surprised when your hand rested against his cheek. His eyelids fluttered closed as he melted into your hand with another hum.

When he figured out what he felt was love years ago he was afraid of what would come of it, but eventually he lost all defense when he felt your touch. It was so unlike an angel, and that’s what you loved the most about him. A warrior of God and Heaven melted and loved the touch of a human, and he may have fallen, but never in your eyes.

“Still an angel, my angel.” You choked out just before he crashed his lips into yours. Three years since you got to truly kiss your angel. Three years since you got to touch him. As you pulled back he rested his forehead against yours with a whimper, wanting more, but gave a sigh knowing he couldn’t and in doing so held back tears. “Cas, that hunt wasn’t your fault, you know this right?”

“If I was only there-” “No. You don’t get to do this, baby. That hunt was going to go bad no matter what.” Cas wanted to protest, but even an angel couldn’t win an argument against you. “I need to go. This is tiring me out, first time and all. Finish getting ready to see me. I love you.”

“Y/n... I greatly love you as well, honey bee.” With another deep sigh your corporeal appearance faded, but Cas stayed where he was a few more moments before going back to the fridge to pack all your favourite foods he could remember. “Thank you, baby.”

* * * * * *

For almost the rest of the day you had to walk around as ghostly as possible to recharge your batteries; every now and again popping from the veil to check on Dean, already drunk of course. You managed enough strength to follow him however when he hopped in Baby and ran his fingers over your initials carved into the interior which he then kissed his fingertips and pressed them to the carvings.

You sat in the car while Dean had stopped at a flower parlor. He usually let Sam or Cas handle this part since your oldest brother never did have a way with words - openly anyway. He came out with a small bouquet that at first looked like a random assortment, then you noticed the pink carnation, and the cattail, the cyclamen and purple hyacinth. In the bouquet there were many dark crimson roses and variations of the tea rose.

Tears swelled and spilled over and down your cheeks as Dean carefully placed the bouquet in the seat you sat in. The flower language was never really something Dean took an interest in, but when you talked about it he was clearly listening. You quietly sobbed, the radio switching on and Baby’s wipers going. “I miss you, Dean.”

“What the hell?” Dean lifted his hands off the wheel and reached back to grab the EMF meter that was going crazy, and you could almost hear his heart drop. “No. Y/n, Pandabear, you can’t be here.” You tried your breathing exercises to calm yourself enough Baby went back to normal, the EMF meter still going berserk. “Damnit, pandabear! You of all people aren’t supposed to be here!” He slammed his hands on the wheel, his voice cracking as he tried not to sob. “You’re not-... You can’t, Y/n.” He sat in silence for a moment until he backed out and headed back to the bunker; the entire time you stared at his face. Every time he started to think of you his face would contort into pain and sorrow. When he came to a stop at the bunker you placed your hand on his shoulder. He must’ve felt it since he tensed up and pulled himself from the car.

The ride up wasn’t usually so long, but today was different. They sat in silence, every now and again Cas would glance in your direction, hand where yours was and yet went through. Sam held the little panda plush in his lap; the last two years he simply bought a new one, this time it was beat up and faded - it was yours. Sam kept it in his room next to one of your pictures he took after you and Dean got him from Stanford. Dean of course drove, flowers in his lap, a grunt every now and again from his thoughts, but other than that spent the drive in silence.

They hit the dirt road and pulled up to the angel blade that was firmly placed in the ground, where your body was. Cas laid out the picnic stuffs, Dean gently laid the flowers in front of the blade, your own personal tombstone, Sam placed your panda next to the bouquet. “Tea rose and dark crimson rose... It suits the day very nicely, Dean.” Cas spoke, a gentle smile on his face.

You listened to your boys tell stories of you, the little embarrassing ones of your childhood to the moments they envied you during hunts or just in general. Dean had a drink in his hand the entire time, but never really took a drink from it. Sam and Cas both said their annual goodbyes as the sun was beginning to set, Dean telling them to give him a minute and to drive down to where the dirt road hit the main one. He had to say something to you in private.

When he was finally alone he poured the remainder of his drink at the base of your grave, a shaky breath leaving his lungs. “You know, Y/n, I couldn’t imagine a world where you were gone, guess that’s just our Winchester luck, huh? Well it fucking sucks. I should’ve never let you on that hunt, that’s on me. I just don’t wan-... I can’t let you go, I’m not that strong, Kiddo. I-I just want to take you back home to the bunker with us. Everyday I want to make you your favourite breakfast all over again. Three years of this and it’s not fair that bastard God took you from us instead of me. I miss you, Kid.

“I never really liked your music, but one always stood out that I made sure to play at least once every hunt with you, you remember? ‘If I were dying on my knees, you’d be the one to rescue me. If you were drowning out at sea, I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe.’ Remember that, Kid? That’s still true, even if it’s too late.” At this point Dean had tears threaten his eyes, his lips twisted into a quivering snarl. Tears stung your eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t do it again, but he was your big brother. “I-I don’t blame you dork, and I do remember. You did. Every damn time.” You swallowed hard holding onto your arm in shyness hoping you were seen.

“Y/n?” Dean scrambled to his feet almost in panic and wrapped his arms around you. “You stupid son of a bitch. You shouldn’t be here.” Your arms snaked their way around his neck as he sobbed into your shoulder.

“Yeah, I fucked up. Didn’t I, Dean?”

“No. Never you, but you know what happens to spirits that stick around, Kiddo.” “I can’t leave my brothers, Dean. We’re Winchesters.” You and Dean talked until the stars started to sprinkle the sky, when you started getting weak. “Look Dean, I don’t blame you for me dying, that’s on me, not you. So do me a favour and stop blaming yourself.” “I’m no-” “Bullshit, Winchester. You’ve done nothing but drink and got me that bouquet. So please, I’m not leaving and that’s not your fault either. I may be the youngest, but damnit Dean I’m always watching over you all.” You pulled him in for one last hug before you faded from his vision leaving him with puffy and red eyes. “Love you too, Kiddo.” You smiled at him and walked side by side as he made his way down to the Impala, a tiny but visible smile on his own lips. You will always watch over your family. Always.

[cimematicho]

Birthday Party

TFW x Reader

Words- 1,413

Warnings- So much fluff you’ll die, awkward party

Reader has her annual, boring family birthday party, but it changes when Team Free Will stop in.

You were an extremely private person. You always had been. It wasn’t a surprise that Dean or Sam didn’t know much about you, although they were the closest friends you had. Cas too for that matter. For instance, they didn’t know that today was your birthday.

Every year your family insisted on coming over to your house to celebrate. Currently there were a whole bunch of people in your living room. Your mom was here, no surprise there. She was the queen of get-togethers. Originally it was just supposed to be her and your baby sister, Anna, until she managed to invite the rest of the family. Now your Aunt Pat and Uncle Ed were somewhere discussing politics with your grandparents, and their twin sons were running loose.

To put it simply, you hated parties.

Your doorbell pulled you out of your thoughts and you jumped at the chance to actually do something. Leave it to your family to make you feel out of place in your own home.

“Oh, honey! I’ll get it.” Your mom pulled herself away from whatever she was doing to stride over to you excitedly. “I didn’t think they would come!” She whispered to herself.

“Who would come, Mom? You told me that you weren’t going to invite as many people this year!” You sighed at her.

“Don’t worry, birthday girl. Just stay here.” She patted your arm. How was it she still treated you like you were 12, every year? But you stayed put, knowing it was best to let her do her thing.

Suddenly there was a tug at your sleeve and you looked down. Your nephew, Tyler, was grinning up at you, snot running down his nose. “Can we play some music, Auntie Y/N?”

You smiled, despite yourself. You loved kids. “Of course. Sorry adult parties are so boring to you, kiddo.” But he was gone, running around again before you could finish. You grabbed your phone to plug it into the speakers, before noticing the millions of missed calls from Sam and Dean. You panicked. Multiple calls or texts never meant good things in the hunting world, but before you could answer your mother was back with her guests.

You almost dropped your phone at the sight of the three large men in tow with your mother. She looked utterly confused.

“Honey, your friends showed up!” Everyone looked up and it went quiet.

Dean awkwardly swayed from foot to foot under the eyes of your family, and Cas and Sam didn’t look any more comfortable. Well, this was awkward.

“Oh, yeah... I invited them! Sorry I didn’t tell you, Mom.” You quickly lied, scrambling to put on music to stop the silence.

Your mother visibly relaxed, then came over to hug you. “Oh, I’m so glad!” You made eye contact with Sam over her shoulder before pushing her off.

“Yeah, totally. Let me just, uh, show them where to put their coats.” You grabbed Sam and Dean by the sleeves of their coats and dragged them out of the room. Cas caught on and quickly followed.

As soon as you were out of earshot you turned on them. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

“We called like a million times!” Dean grumbled. “There’s a hunt that we need your help on. Some witch a town over. We knew you lived here so…”

Sam jumped in. “We just thought we would pop in.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You can’t just ‘pop in!’”

Cas stepped forward then. “We’re sorry, Y/N. We didn’t know you had guests.”

“Yeah, is that your mom?” Dean asked, already starting to shed his jacket. Sam quickly followed.

“Yes! Wait, what are you doing?” You held your hand out to stop them.

Sam looked at you weird. “Taking our coats off? We have to stay now, Y/N. You should have heard your mom at the door.”

“Besides,” Dean cut in. “I saw food, and we’ve never met your family.”

“For a good reason! I don’t need my family knowing I travel the country with three men, killing things, and drinking beer!” You shouted, exasperated.

Sam rested a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll be on our best behavior.”

Dean put a hand on his heart. “Scouts honor.”

You sighed, weighing your options. Maybe this party wouldn’t be so boring. “Fine. Leave your jackets in the closet.” You started to walk away before pausing and turning back to them. “And your guns.”

After the initial shock from your family that, yes, you actually had friends, things weren’t so bad. Castiel was standing in a corner with your Grandma, and you thought you had heard them talking about the bible earlier. Sam was still talking to your mom, putting on his best ‘impress the elders’ act. Dean had been running around with Tyler and his brother Adam playing cops and robbers. You silently thanked god that Dean hadn’t show them the trunk of the impala yet.

“Y/N!” A small, lisping voice called. You looked down to find your 5 year old half-sister. Her blonde ringlets had been pulled into two little pigtails. She was the definition of adorable. She held her arms out to you, to signal she wanted to be picked up. You swooped her up, spinning her around and hearing her giggling.

“How’s my favorite person doing?” You asked, poking her cheek.

“Good. When’s cake?” Of course, that was all someone her age cared about.

“That’s a good idea.” You replied, putting her back down. “I’ll go see.”

You walked into the kitchen, pulling the fridge open. The Oreo Baskin Robbins cake stood proudly in the center, ‘Happy Birthday, Y/N’ on top, and you grinned as you pulled it out. This was the one thing you treated yourself on every year. Dean loved pie, but you loved Oreo Ice Cream cake.

You started to turn to grab a knife when you bumped into a cabinet door that was open. You tried to push it shut, but something was stuck. You slammed it harder before hearing an expletive. You quickly bent down, pulling it back open.

Inside was a full grown hunter, his long legs sticking out from under the sink. Dean grinned sheepishly at you.

“What the hell are you doing?” You laughed at the sight.

“Well, I stole the crown jewel from the palace and the cops are looking for me as we speak.” He fished out a quarter from his pocket, holding it up in triumph. “This was the only hiding spot I could find.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I wouldn’t call that hiding.” You helped him out, as he groaned, stretching his legs.

“I think you’re right.” He replied, glumly.

“Hey!” You both turned to see Sam in the doorway, a twin boy on each of his long legs. They held on like monkeys, while Sam took giant steps. “I think I found the culprit.”

Dean laughed evilly, holding up the coin. “You’ll never catch me alive!” He took off, the little boys following him, shooting imaginary finger guns. You grinned, shaking your head. Dean was definitely enjoying himself.

Sam came up behind you, nodding towards the cake. “Need any help with that?”

You eyed him. “Are you asking out of kindness or do you want to have an excuse to avoid my mother?”

He pretended to think for a second. “Both.”

“Plates are in the left cabinet.” You shook your head, laughing. You grabbed a knife as Sam pulled out a stack of plates.

He nearly did a double take when he read the icing on the top. “It’s your birthday?”

“Oh...yeah.” You blushed.

“I’m so sorry, I just thought...Why didn’t you tell us?” He asked, looking at you sadly.

“I don’t know… I’m a private person, Sam. You know that.” You paused. “But, I’m glad you guys came this year. My family loves you. I mean the boys finally have someone to play with, my Grandma had someone to talk about religion with...and I have someone to keep me company.” You looked up at him.

It was his turn to blush, and he shook his head. “I think they’re just happy that you’re happy.”

You grinned up at him. “I am happy.” And you were. It was the first year that this party felt like it included all of your family. You blinked away the happy tears. “Let’s just cut this cake, okay? And tomorrow we’ll kill some witches.”

[souleatrs]

hwete

wuh? :/

[evaporating-memories]

remember that time we peer-pressured you into buying that shinji bookmark

how could I forget omfg I used that as a bookmark for one of my textbooks

[evaporating-memories]

I just saw ur spoil Noragami post (and i didnt kno u watched it, so i couldnt blacklist), and it reminded me to watch all 4 eps of it AND FUCK MY HEART

oh dang sorry man bUT I KNOW RIGHT CRIES