#and i captioned it like I LOVE WHEN DEAN CRIES $*£(%*“%”%?????? SOBBING

[loverboydotcom]

you really just can't go back after you got queerbaited by destiel throughout the 2010s. that changes you permanently

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Abandon All Hope: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,911

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“That's my girl, you're okay, honey,” Ellen whispered to her daughter as she held her.

Jo wasn’t looking too good, and you were trying everything you could not to break down here and now. You’ve been using your magic to heal the wound, and it’s been working, but her body has been drained of so much blood that even if the wound was closed, she wasn’t going to make it.

“Now we know where the devil's gonna be, we know when, and we have the Colt.”

“Yeah. We just have to get past eight or so hellhounds and get to the farm by midnight.”

“Yeah, and that's after we get Jo and Ellen the hell out of town.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“What about a stretcher? I can use my magic to conceal them from Meg or whoever looks at them,” you suggested.

“I'll see what we got,” Sam said, turning to leave when Jo stopped him.

“Stop. Guys, stop. Can we, uh, be realistic about this, please? I can't move my legs. I can't be moved. My guts are being held in by an ace bandage. We gotta—we gotta get our priorities straight here. Number one, I'm not going anywhere.”

“Joanna Beth, you stop talking like that,” Ellen choked up.

“Mom. I can't fight. I can't walk. But I can do something. We got propane, wiring, rock salt, iron nails, and everything else we need.”

“Everything we need?” you wondered.

“To build a bomb, Y/N.”

“No. Jo, no, that’s crazy!”

“You got another plan? You got any other plan? Those are hellhounds out there, Y/N. They've got all of our scents. Those bitches will never stop coming after you. We let the dogs in, you guys hit the roof, make a break for the building next over. I can wait here with my finger on the button, rip those mutts a new one. Or at least get you a few minutes' head start, anyway.”

“No, I—I won't let you,” Ellen cried.

“This is why we're here, right? If I can get us a shot on the devil—Dean, we have to take it.”

“No!” Ellen shouted, looking at Dean. “That’s not—”

“Mom, this might literally be your last chance to treat me like an adult. Might wanna take it?” she coughed.

Ellen starts sobbing, and you let tears fall from your eyes at the realization that Jo isn’t going to see tomorrow… and Ellen might not either.

“You heard her. Get to work,” Ellen sniffled.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you and the Winchesters set out to make the bombs, filling them with nails and rock salt for shrapnel. All of those bombs took time, and it was night fall when you finished. Sam takes Jo’s hand while Dean strings the wire to the button she will hold.

“Okay, this is it. I'll see you on the other side. Probably sooner than later,” Dean chuckled humorlessly.

“Make it later,” she sighed.

Dean puts the button in Jo’s hand. She didn’t like this even though it was necessary for survival. He kissed her forehead meaningfully before pulling away. Ellen came back and took a seat next to her daughter. Mother and daughter stared at one another before Ellen smiled.

“Mom, no.”

“Somebody's gotta let them in. Like you said, you're not moving. You got me, Jo. And you're right, this is important. But I will not leave you here alone.”

“Ellen,” you got tears again.

“Get going now,” she sniffled.

“Ellen!”

“I said go,” she urged. The tears wouldn’t stop leaking from your eyes even as you forced yourself to walk away. “Dean? Kick it in the ass. Don’t miss.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded.

“I am so sorry,” you whispered.

Ellen got up, unchains the doors, sweeps away the salt line, opens the propane tanks, sits back down next to Jo, and hugs her. Dean forced you out the back door even though you didn’t want to. As you were climbing down the fire escape, you were sobbing quietly. Jo was your only good girl friend, and Ellen was like a maternal figure in your life. It was hard knowing you were leaving them in there to die. As soon as your feet touched the ground, you three began running down the alley. When you got far enough, the hardware store exploded, and you turned to watch it burn.

“JO!!” you screamed, but Dean covered your mouth before anyone else could hear.

“Come on,” he urged.

He had to force you to follow them before you could follow on your own. You kept your sobs quiet as you ran to the farm and through bushes. When you arrived at the scene, dozens of men stand in the field, their attention on something you couldn’t see.

“Guess we know what happened to some of the townspeople,” Dean noticed.

“Okay, last words?” Sam asked.

“I think I’m good,” Dean nodded.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I love you both so much,” you blurted out, wiping away the dried tears.

“Here goes nothing,” Dean breathed heavily.

Sam got up and walked out in the open with a shot gun even though it wouldn’t do any good on the Devil. Dean took your hand and led you across the way to have a bit of surprise on him.

“Hey!” Sam yelled, approaching Lucifer. The devil turns and drops the shovel in his hands. “You wanted to see me?”

“Oh, Sam, you don't need that gun here. You know I'd never hurt you. Not really.”

“Yeah? Well, we’d hurt you,” Dean grinned, coming out in the open.

You trailed behind with your eyes glowing bright blue and magic swirling around your hands. Dean pointed the Colt at Lucifer and shot him point-blank in the forehead. The angel fell to the ground, but none of the men surrounding you do anything about it.

“Is that it?” you asked.

After a minute or so, Lucifer took a deep breath and sat up.

“Owww,” he complained. The hole in his head started closing as he stood up. “Where did you get that?”

Lucifer had a look of murder in his eyes, and when he approached Dean, you knew he was going to hurt him. Without thinking, you rushed in front of Dean just as Lucifer’s fist came up to punch Dean. Your hand made contact with his, but a layer of magic separated the two kinds of flesh. Your eyes only glowed a brighter blue the more magic you exerted on the archangel. He was impressed you could do this, but he knew he was more powerful than you were.

“Even locked away in a cage, Amara is still a pain in my ass,” he chuckled.

He used more of his strength to knock you to the ground, and he still managed to punch Dean right into a tree which knocked him out. He walked away from you, and you scrambled over to Dean to help him.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Lucifer growled.

“Dean? Dean!” you panicked, putting your blue hand to his forehead.

His skin absorbed the magic you gave him, and he opened his eyes as soon as it did its thing.

“Now, where were we?” Lucifer chuckled. Sam watched with a horrified look as he picked up his shovel once more. “Don't feel too bad, Sam. There are only five things in all of creation that that gun can't kill, and I just happen to be one of them. But if you give me a minute, I'm almost done.”

Lucifer goes back to digging in his hole, and Sam looked at you to make sure his brother was alright. When you gave the nod of approval, he focused back on the angel.

“You know, I don't suppose you'd just say yes here and now? End this whole tiresome discussion? That's crazy, right?”

“It's never gonna happen!”

“Oh, I don't know, Sam. I think it will,” Lucifer goes back to digging. “I think it'll happen soon. Within six months, and I think it'll happen in Detroit.”

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch. I'm gonna kill you myself, you understand me? I'm going to rip your heart out!”

“That's good, Sam. You keep fanning that fire in your belly. All that pent-up rage. I'm gonna need it,” he grinned.

Sam visibly calmed down, looking at the townspeople still all around him.

“What did you do? What did you do to this town?”

“Oh, I was very generous with this town. One demon for every able-bodied man.”

“And the rest of them?”

“In there. I know, it's awful, but these horsemen are so demanding. So, it was women and children first. I know what you must think of me, Sam, but I have to do this. I have to. You of all people should understand.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Sam asked, and Lucifer dropped the shovel.

“I was a son. A brother, like you, a younger brother, and I had an older brother who I loved. Idolized, in fact. One day I went to him and I begged him to stand with me, and Michael turned on me. He called me a freak, a monster. Then, he beat me down all because I was different. Because I had a mind of my own. Tell me something, Sam, any of this sound familiar? Anyway. You'll have to excuse me. Midnight is calling and I have a ritual to finish. Don't go anywhere. Not that you could if you would.”

Lucifer turned to the hole he dug and began chanting as did the demons around him. Sam rushed over to you and Dean, and you helped the older brother sit up.

“Now repeat after me. We offer up our lives, blood, souls to complete this tribute,” Lucifer chanted, his disciples repeating after him.

One by one, the demons flash gold and fall over, dead. You and the Winchesters looked at Lucifer like he murdered an entire town—oh wait, he did.

“What? They're just demons,” Lucifer shrugged, going back to stare at the mass grave.

The ground starts to rumble, but Castiel appeared next to you three. He placed his finger on his lips to signal to you to be quiet. He used his abilities to teleport all three of you out of there and back at your dad’s house.

All of this, and Ellen and Jo died for nothing.

The glasses from Ellen and Castiel’s drinking competition are still on the table. The TV is on, showing a tornado with a caption that reads, “STATE OF EMERGENCY, Paulding County" and "KOUA 16".

“Just received an update that the governor has declared a state of emergency for Paulding County, including the towns of Marion, Fetterville, and Carthage. The storm system has reportedly touched off a number of tornadoes in the area,” the TV reporter announced.

You, Dean, Sam, and your dad all gather around the fireplace. After you told your dad what happened and how Ellen and Jo died for nothing, he didn’t say anything about it. How could he?

“Death tolls have yet to be estimated, but state officials expect the loss of life and property to be staggering.”

Your dad held a copy of the picture that was taken earlier. No one could bear to even look at the damn thing, so he tossed it into the fire and just watched it burn…

Like the rest of the world will do.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@sing4mejensen​ @essie1876​ @gh0stgurl​ @redsalv20​ @superrandomnatural​ @scarletmeii​ @babypink224221​ @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo​ @akshi8278​ @a--1--1--3​ @kendlemariee​ @miraclesoflove​ @earthtokace​ @teamfreewillsstuff​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @kiwihoee​ @jennazeise​ @phantomalchemist​ @posiemax​ @22sarah08​ @tricksterdean​ @andi-mendes-barnes​ @put-my-favorite-record-on​ @countrygal17a​ @whit85-blog​

[rosemaryfm]

『ANYA TAYLOR JOY ❙ CIS FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like LYDIA MONTGOMERY is here for HER JUNIOR year as a COMMUNICATIONS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be HOPEFUL, IDEALISTIC, DEPENDENT & MALLEABLE. They’re living in PERKINS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 21. EST. SHE/THEY.

hllo. .. sorry fr switching muses so suddenly .. bt lydia will stick. i swear. as always gib this a like if u’d like 2 plot <3

TW ABANDONMENT, DEATH MENTIONS, BORDERLINE IMPLIED

aesthetics.

knee highs and platform mary janes, tulle skirts and bubbles and beads and lace, and heart-shaped mirrors and heart-shaped bruises, gaudy mirrors and gaudy faucets and gaudy frames and chandeliers and gaudy gold, handwritten love letters and kiss-stained envelopes, flowers braided in hair and dying flowers in vases and flowers pressed in between pages, vintage perfume bottles and old ballet slippers and discarded head-shots, short skirts and satin slips and tiny cardigans, melted candles and burnt fingertips and dripping wax, floral baths and beach waves and seashells and summer breezes, renaissance paintings and statues and praying hands and rosaries and empty beds, masks and identities and sobbing and crying and yearning and wishing and learning and wanting and needing and the cycle repeating and repeating and repeating.

basic info.

full name: lydia rosemary montgomery

nickname(s): lydia delia, lyds

b.o.d. - june 22nd, cancer

label(s): the allegiant, the chameleon, the crestfallen, the facade, the gregarious, the grifter, the malleable, the marionette, the neophyte, the obsequious, the rose-colored glass, the sybarite, etc. ...

height: 5′7″

hometown: new york city, new york

sexuality: bisexual

pinterest

stats

inspired by: amy march (little women), lydia bennet (pride & prejudice), lucy pevensie (narnia), daisy buchanan (the great gatsby), moira rose (schitt’s creek), karen smith (mean girls)

biography.

the product of an affair between christian montgomery, an esteemed doctor at his hospital - and one of the nurses there, allison dermont. the half sister of caleb montgomery (shoutout 2 alli!)

named after her maternal grandmother (deceased before lydia even turned one) and rosemary because it reminded allison of her childhood (rosemary always in the air, growing from pots on their porch and baked into the bread they’d eat)

growing up, lydia never knew her father. but she knew of him - her mother told her stories often of him, and the work he did to save others. built him up as a hero, a role model, someone admirable and brave and just despite the fact he’d no longer look her in the eyes when crossing paths in the hospital’s hallways. lydia idolized him.

was a very lonely child - her mother worked long hours, and babysitters were often distant. tended to attach herself to them, anyways, clinging to legs and arms and having to be peeled off and scolded (which then resulted in tantrums, of thrown toys and stomping feet and red, tearful faces)

her schoolmates were cruel to her, an easy target as a child - she followed behind the girls who seemed the most well liked, trying to mimic how they were. it’d always been a little off, and a little off-putting, and she cried often.

abandonment issues led to an obsession with perfection - as if she accomplished the most, her father would be blown away with her talents when he finally reached out. it’d always been a hope for her - her father contacting her, bringing her into his life. being a full family, loved and attended to. 

strove for the highest marks in all her classes, though there’d been hiccups here and there. she’d done ballet for a number of years before her dance instructor had essentially told her she’d never make it to a company, which led to her abruptly quitting. even put out a portfolio and contacted modeling agencies - she’d done a few small photoshoots as a teenager, but she’d never made it to anything big.

tried her hardest to act and work the part of someone important, elegant and better than who she really was. it showed in the aesthetics she indulged in (thrifted nearly everything she owned, from trinkets to her clothing) and the way she acted. in high school, she trailed behind the popular girls. molded her personality to cater to them, to be more like them. a mean girl, in a way. 

did the same when it came to boyfriends and lovers - she’d mold herself into exactly what they wanted, tried to be the perfect girlfriend for them, or sexual partner, or anything. she just wanted the attention, the love. had a myriad of relationships in high school (and it bled into college, too) where she’d give her all, and ultimately end up used and disappointed.

never felt like the first choice, only the second. always the bridemaid, never the bride. never good enough, no matter how hard she tried. but always remained hopeful - idealistic, always thinking that she’d get her turn one day. optimistic, but with lowering self-esteem and a mountain of insecurities.

became something of a habitual liar, in the process - always wanting to seem better than she was, so she lied about where she lived (instead of a measly apartment, she lived in a penthouse) and her accomplishments and her experience, and her feelings and who her parents were.

found something she was genuinely good at during her senior year of high school, when she’d chosen a fashion elective for one of her class periods. the practical aspect, she was good at - creatively? she had nothing to offer.

because of her lack of ideas, she never pursued it further. in college she chose to go into communications, specializing in public relations, though she’d never thought of actually finishing college. it was just a way for her to find a beau, to marry - to leave new york and have children. has always wanted to be a housewife with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. to be loved and held for the rest of her life.

without cliques in college, it was hard for her to find her footing among peers. joined a sorority, molded her personality once more into something they would desire, and was accepted. got a frat boyfriend until it burned out, and another, and another, until she had something of a reputation.

with all of these expenses adding up - lydia’d never wanted to work a retail job, or food service, or anything measly like that - she found use for her sewing skills in the back of npc shops. worked in a shady operation producing fake designer items. she’d been excellent at producing exact replicas.

it wasn’t a very safe job and it’d ended her up in danger on some occasions, but it paid, and she was desperate.

met caleb for the first time at his mother’s funeral and became obsessed with the idea of having a brother, of being closer to her father somehow. cyberstalked him as much as she could and found radcliffe, where she eventually transferred to when caleb had decided to go back. practically followed him like a lost dog.

got into perkins because she literally pre-wrote her essay to get in and basically sobbed her story in front of secretaries and deans and housing faculty until she’d been granted permission to move in.

currently interning at a company where she has control over their social media accounts, alongside a team of other interns. when she’s feeling particularly upset she’ll post passive aggressive or straight up distraught, distressing messages (tweets, captions, etc.) on their official accounts, sometimes featuring the mascot of the company/brand. they haven’t figured out its her, yet.

personality.

i won’t lie. she’s a bit of a mess. 

constantly changes her personality to fit whoever she’s talking to, desperate for their approval in even the most minimal ways. consistently lies about literally ... whatever, sometimes for no reason, if it’ll make her seem cooler or better in some way. type of person who wants to one-up others.

excessive, in that way. clingy and pushy, she tends to latch onto people and designate her ‘favorites’ - their opinion means the world to her, and when it falters she essentially crumbles as a person.

pretty fragile as a person - emotional, and unable to be yelled at because she’ll wind up crying. takes a lot of things very personally, and always accuses herself as being the problem, which leads to her changing aspects of herself.

loves often, and viciously, will fall for someone at the drop of a hat. yearns, often. sulks often, too.

still has a ballerina’s posture, model’s demeanor, very upright and it could be mistaken as intimidating, though the facade cracks immediately when she speaks. loves gossip and unintentionally - or, intentionally - spreads it at the drop of a hat.

can get very possessive, and jealous, and outright mean. very highly defensive at times, when pushed (it doesn’t take much to push her)

sentimental to a fault - she still has her last pair of ballet slippers despite the fact that she’d dropped that pursuit when she was fifteen.

her room is adorned with mirrors, handheld and mountable and tabletop - they’re all heart-shaped.

has an obsession with hearts, actually, and florals, and gold, when it comes to decor. has hanging plants and flowers falling from her ceiling. her sink is a gold swan (her favorite animals are swans) faucet that she paid to get installed without permission from perkins.

basically her decor is very gaudy. loves fur coats and silk slips and mini skirts, brandy melville, platforms and socks. very specific style that she doesn’t falter from, often.

takes baths often to distress but setting them up is an hour-long process in itself, flowers and herbs and candles surrounding her tub. she’ll stay in there until she’s pruny and the water’s gone cold.

likes to garner sympathy when she can - though she herself tends to be a very sympathetic, compassionate, person. cries for others even when they’re not crying themselves. it’s a lot. tends to make things about herself, in some way.

a smoker, and a bad one at that, does it whenever she feels the slightest amount of stress. she’s very stressed, very often.

likes the aesthetic of art, like renaissance paintings and roman statues, but isn’t deeply knowledgeable on them.

very impressionable, easy to impress, and is loyal to a definite fault. doesn’t tend to give up on people, and holds out for the best.

a dreamer, excessively hopeful and idealistic - is often let down. wears rose-colored glasses and doesn’t see it, anyways. can be vicious, but ultimately just wants to be loved. obsessed with the idea of it.

very finicky and picky, but is also? a hypocrite? says she’s a vegan but she isn’t - she has indulged in mcdonalds nuggets more than once.

very materialistic in that she loves high-end things that she ... can’t afford, but is also financially irresponsible and loves to spend her money on things she absolutely doesn’t need. selfish and immature, at times.

vastly insecure, likes reassurance. double texts. overthinks. romanticizes.

laughs when she’s nervous - laughs a lot.

patient until she’s impatient, the reason why she burns her tongue and the roof of her mouth so often on hot teas and coffee and treats.

is either over-prepared or under-prepared; over-prepared in academics, always doing the upmost she can do (still a perfectionist) and under-prepared when it comes to dressing out - never wears a jacket and is always cold (anemic, too) because she’s hoping that a handsome stranger will give her theirs’

wishes on dandelion puffs and shooting stars and each and every 11:11, wishes for a lot of things - they never come true, but she keeps wishing.

loves romance novels, and period / historical dramas/romances especially. like, frankly obsessed

has a collection of erotica novels, too.

sleeps around often but there’s no guarantee that she won’t get attached to who she’s sleeping with.

la croix fan :/

got onto the cheer team the same way she got into perkins. crying to the coach. but she does have immaculate form, so.

can’t say no to anybody, about anything and for anything its a genuine Problem she feels like she always Has to do what people ask because that’s how you get people to like you (no it isnt!)

tdlr; she listens to marina and the diamonds, lana del rey, and mitski far more than any normal fucking person would and that should be enough to describe her.

wanted connections.

okay so i kind of imagine her as being New to radcliffe so these may not be instantaneous but.

a ride or die... someone tht she wld probably die fr at the drop of a pin or w/e, they dn’t have to be Her ride or die though,, y’know what i mean

bad influences... she’s very impressionable and wants to fit in with people... they cld get her to do anything...

people she annoys... she does that a lot :/ she’s just intense. high care. needy.

friends! just friends... please ... give her friends ... she’ll lay down her life for them ...

a drug dealer... y’know ... just fr funsies.

party pals... needless 2 say ...

unrequited feelings... mostly if not entirely on her part, because she’ll ‘fall in love’ with just about anybody

attachments... that she has on other people. just won’t quit!

new yorkians... who might’ve known her in her youth! she went to a public school.

associated with caleb... people who only know her because she’s caleb’s bastard sister

bad time... something went wrong along the way of their friendship and now it’s ... super bad ... 

enemies... she’ll probably cry to your face or maybe even yell at u! who knows! u hate each other.

perkins roommate... i repeat, mayhaps a perkins roommate? who got thrust with her in the middle of the semester?

something soft... idk what ... cld be cute

the world is our oyster ... we can always brainstorm too... idk!! she’s new in town!! john mulaney vc !!

[calyssmarviss]

Supernatural 14x02 - Gods and Monsters

(You mean like that Lana del Rey song that I put on my destiel playlist after watching the Purgatory Arc?)

"In the land of gods and monsters, I was an angel. Living in the garden of evil, Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed. Shining like a fiery beacon..."

THEN:

I struggled for hours to fall asleep now I can’t get out of bed… Wait isn’t there a Supernatural episode to watch????????????? We Friday, right? Urgh that show really gonna make me go downstairs to make coffee and come back upstairs and power up my laptop and download the episode and sit at my desk and actually focus isn’t it? I hate Supernatural. *a full minute of contemplating death by giving up later* Ok man let’s do this. *gets up and puts on plaid shirt over my otherwise scantily clad figure* (sorry i just love the words "scantily" and "clad" and i only ever get to use them together) COOOOFFEEEEEEE

NOW:

OH IS THIS GONNA BE A DEAN POV THING???? BECAUSE THOSE LOOK LIKE THE LAST THING HE SAW AND DID BEFORE MICHAEL TOOK OVER (i mean in the recap)

Children, I think it's torture time. Lol he put down the cap. Don't wanna stain it, right? Well I for one am delighted by this decision. You're doing good so far today Dinkle. Oh yeah it's definitively torture time. Look at those poor chained saps.

Uhm, yes.

Ahah I thought for a wild sec that he was going to spit in that blood, I don't know why.

What kind of soup are you making Dinkle?

DUDE ARE YOU TRYIN TO MAKE ANGELS

TITLE CARD

Mhm. Lil’ wings.

Bobby: "Who goes to Duluth in October?"

Me, who has watched Fargo and hence looked up the towns in the area: "Oh, nice continuity! Remember how he said that he wouldn't live as far north as Sioux Fall?????" 

D'you think Cas is agreeing like "yeah you're right my bros and sis are fucking liars" or more like "yeah beware me I'll lie to you so I can go on solo suicide missions in order to prove my worth to Humanity".

Somehow I paused at the perfect moment where you can see that Cas thinks it's total bullshit and will come anyway because that's his husband we're talking about he ain't just gonna stay there Sam.

Framing.

*snickers at the pistol cocks caption* I should stop hanging with barely-out-of-their-teenage-years boys.

Anyway who wrote this episode I should check it out. Man there are a lot of producers and co-producers on this... And i managed to miss the writer's name 2 times in a row. Let's go ask the wikia. Ew, gross. A Bucklemming. Eh at least RSJr directed it. OH WAIT A SEC BUCKLEMMING WROTE HELL'S ANGEL! I'll will forgive (almost) everything if they do us a reverse.

Blah blah blah Nick Drama.

No, he can't look at you because, having this dickface? It's on you bud. I mean Cas can look at Sam alright, and I'm pretty sure he didn't mind looking at himself in the mirror more than he did before getting his ass possessed by Lucifer. Nah, Nick, it's just you and your Mark Pellegrino face.

Oh, okay, the writer and director's name are just arriving now.

NO THAT'S WHAT HE TELLS HIMSELF SO HE CAN LIVE WITH SAYING YES AND LET LUCIFER OUT OF THE CAGE OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU BEING SO MEAN TO CAS RN

Seriously what's the fucking point of the Nick Drama? Because I know Bucklemming they're not doing this for Cas. They're maybe doing it a little bit for Dean (who is the one being possessed by an archangel rn)... But they’re probably mainly doing it for Nick himself and: WHO CARES.

Wait what? He doesn't remember what happened to his family? Does he think that Lucifer killed them? 

God this is pissing me off.

Mortician: "We don't usually see this kind of action in Duluth."

YOU LIAR I'VE SEEN FARGO I KNOW ALL ABOUT THE CORPSES THAt LittEr thiS AREA

"Five star smitting."

*cries over the stars Cas lost* he’s, like, a two stars right now *sobs*

Jack: "I'm researching how long it takes archangel grace to replenish."

Oh you sweet summer child. You ain't gonna find anything about that in *books*.

Jack: "The books say it can take from a month to..." Cas: "A century."

THIS IS BULLSHIT. THERE'S NO WAY HE FOUND THAT INFO AND THAT IT'S CORRECT. I mean first who the fuck met an archangel with low grace levels before the Winchesters? NO ONE THAT'S WHO BECAUSE THOSE GUYS WEREN'T BUDDIES WITH HUMANS BEFORE THE APOCALYPSE OMG I HATE ALL OF THIS.

Except Cas and Jack. They're good boys. Not their fault their dialogue is shit.

Jack: "You don't understand what I'm going through."

Well that's fucking rude buddy. You at least have a home while you're going through it.

Jack: "What did you have left?"

"That one time Dean came to see me and we spent the night together and Jack, there was only one bed..."

Cas: "I had Sam and Dean."

BULLSHIT Sam was Gadreel half of the time and Dean was like "fuck off" and "fuck me" all at the same time .

Cas: "As Dean would say..." 

Kill me now.

I hate how I knew it was Jensen just by seeing his hands.

I also really resent his hotness right now. It feels like, you know, a weapon in the wrong hands? When he's playing Dean, I know he won't harm me (through the screen lol), but this asshole? I wanna stay away.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

This is like, next level meta here. I'M FEELING ATTACKED.

URGH CAN WE DROP NICK ALREADY.

I.

DON'T.

CARE.

Oh great now Cas is touching his shoulder.

Wait I know the actress that plays Lydia... OH. YES. It's Abigail Ashe from Black Sails!

Ooooh girl, those are some really ugly teeth.

You're right Nick, nobody cares.

People @ Cas: "You don't understand."

Bitch he probably does better than you.

Nick: "You're just a stone cold body snatcher."

I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS.

Nick: "You're no different than Lucifer."

I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS.

Because, yeah, it's a bit true but: 1) Cas actually regrets it 2) YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT TO HAVE MARK PELLEGRINO SAY THOSE LINES TO HIS FACE

Michael, channeling the Dean: "There's a purity in that."

MAN, LANA DEL REY

OH NO NOUGAT WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU CAN'T DO THAT. YOU CAN'T EVEN TELL THE TRUTH. SEE IT'S SAD AND TERRIBLE THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW SHE'S DEAD.

Hey... do they think their daughter is working for Trump now? Wait more important: did Jack learned to drive? Where are the Klines living? Didn't Cas notice he was gone? Did Nick talked to him all day about his Nick Drama so that Cas didn't even notice his son was gone for hours???

WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO CAS TODAY JACK. YOU CAN'T JUST GO AHEAD AND TELL HIM YOU WANNA KILL HIS HUSBAND (tho I guess that now that Nick is a thing *eyeroll* they'll end up killing Michael without killing Dean but somehow i doubt that it's what Jack is suggesting).

Jack: "Dean doesn't matter."

WELL FUCK YOU VERY MUCH JACK WINCHESTER-KLINE AS OF RIGHT NOW YOU'RE ON MY SHIT LIST YOU BETTER MAKe IT UP TO ME, CAS AND DEAN ASAP OR ELSE

HOW DID NICK WENT FROM KANSAS TO DELAWARE SO QUICKLY??? It's half the states' width! (I mean, assuming this guy lives in the same area Nick is from and this is the evening of the day all the Nick Drama happened - and we have no reason to think it isn't)

Oh yeah they're in Delaware.

I didn't really payed attention to the fight sequence because I was painting my nails purple (to go with the plaid shirt) but MAN GIVIN WEREWOLVES SILVER IMMUNITY IS CHEATING.

Is it me or Sam was pretty silent this whole episode? Bucklemming gave all his lines to Nick.

Uh, what.

What are you playing at Dinkle.

HOLY OIL RING HIM!!!

Oh, look at that, Nick killed Arty. What a surprise.

Aaaand, it's over. I'm disappointed. Cas didn't go after Dinkle :( YOU HAD ONE JOB BUCKLEMMING

[latishiante1001]

My Snow Angel

Rating: Explicit Category: M/M Ship: Dean Winchester/Castiel Warnings: Adult Language and Content, Smut Tags: Bottom!Cas, Top!Dean, Dom!Dean, Sub!Cas, Anal Sex, Butt Plug, Mentioned Shower Sex, Fluff

Summary: Dean drags Cas outside to enjoy his first snow day to have fun. Snowball fights and chases aren’t the only fun things that ensue. Word Count: 1064 Written for: Whoever posted the art on Pinterest and the people that made the caption. A/N: This is for the art that I found on Pinterest and had the caption of “Imagine dean going on top of cas from behind him. Cas’ hair is full of snow so he says: “I’m going to do a snow angel…”<<<<<<SHITT JUST GOT REAL<<<<— Someone make a fan fiction of this ASAP” So, I made the fic… Hope you like it! The art is not mine.

^ This is the art this fic is based off of. Again, it is not mine. All credit goes to the amazing artist that made it.

“Cas! Come on! You’re gonna love it, I promise!” Dean whines, tugging at Cas’ sleeve. Cas is sitting up on the bed, not moving at all no matter how hard Dean tugged. “No. I don’t like the cold.” Cas says, annoyed. Dean had been tugging and whining at him for what seems like hours. No, days. “I know you don’t but this is something that you’ll love. You can wear layers and then we can warm up in here, I promise. Just come out there with me and play at least three snowball fights with me.” Dean tries, letting go of Cas’ sleeve. “One snowball fight.” Cas argues. “Two.” Dean argues back. “Fine. Just let me put a bunch of layers on.” Cas sighs, getting up. “Yes! Thank you!” Dean cheered, grinning. “Let’s get layered.” ~~~~ “Hahaha!” Dean laughed as he hit Cas in the face with a snowball while he was closing the bunker door. Cas slowly turned towards him, feigning anger. Though that anger went away as soon as Cas smirked and said, “You’re on, Dean Winchester.” Cas bent down and grabbed a handful of snow, balling it up before launching it at Dean, hitting him in the back of his head. “You son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, balling up two snowballs, quickly launching them both at Cas. “Assbutt!” Cas yelled back once the snowballs that Dean threw hit him. The two of them continued to throw false insults and snowballs at each other for what felt like hours, when it was only for about thirty minutes. “Okay, okay! Truce! Truce!” Dean called, holding his hands up. Cas had been launching snowballs at him faster than he could make one. “You win, you win.” Dean falls onto his back with his arms and legs spread before moving them back and forth. “What are you doing?” Cas asks, tilting his head. “Making a snow angel. Come on, you do it too.” Dean says, looking at him before sitting up. Cas shrugs before he falls down. On his face. Dean starts to laugh really hard, looking at Cas. “Cas…You aren’t- You aren’t supposed to- to fall face first.” Dean chuckles before standing up to walk towards Cas, who is still laying face down in the snow. “Why not?” Cas asks lifting his head up, face covered in snow. Dean settles over Cas, putting his mouth next to Cas’ ear and whispers, “‘Cause that’s not how it’s done,” before pushing his hips into Cas’. The shiver that runs down Cas’ spine has nothing to do with the cold. Cas pushes back against Dean’s quickly hardening cock, making Dean groan. Cas whines as Dean pulls back to pull Cas’ pants and blue panties down just enough to expose the blue jewel at the end of the plug in Cas. Dean taps the end of the plug making Cas gasp as the plug hits his prostate. Dean grabs the end of the plug, pushing it in before gently sliding it out. Cas gasps as the cold air enters his stretched out hole. “You want me to fuck you, angel?” Dean asks, unbuttoning his jeans. “Yes! Please, sir! Fuck me!” Cas pleads, pushing his ass towards Dean as much as he can. “Hmm, I don’t know if you’ve begged enough…” Dean teases, pulling his fully hard cock out. “Sir, please! Please fuck me! Please fuck me with your cock! I need it! Please!” Cas begs, wiggling his ass. “Hmm, I still think you can do better,” Dean says, making Cas want to sob before he continues, speaking directly into Cas’ ear. “But you came out here with me so I’ll give you what you need.” With that, Dean pushes his cock into Cas in one smooth thrust until his hips are flush with Cas’. Cas moans loudly, throwing his head back. “Dean, please! Fuck me!” Cas moans. “Try that again.” “Sir, please. Fuck me!” Cas begs, close to crying. “That’s my angel.” Dean says smirking before setting a hard, fast, punishing pace, pounding into Cas. Cas cries out as the angle causes his prostate to be hit repeatedly. Cas starts to meet every thrust, making Dean drive even deeper into him. “Fuck, Cas. Even with that plug being in you for hours, you’re still so tight for me. Cas, who do you belong to?” Dean asks, nipping at Cas’ neck. “You! I’m yours! All yours!” Cas cries. “Dean! I- I’m not gonna last long! Fuck!” “You gonna come for me, Cas? You gonna be a good angel?” Dean grunts into Cas’ ear, feeling close to the edge himself. “Yes! All for you! M- May I come, sir?!” Cas asks. “Come for me, angel.” Dean growls into Cas’ ear. Cas cries out Dean’s name, coming into the blue panties he has on. Dean moans as he comes, shooting deep inside of his angel. They lie there for a moment, catching their breath before Cas speaks up. “D- Dean?” “Yeah?” “C- Can we go inside. I- I’m getting really c- cold.” “Shit, sorry. Yeah, let’s go.” Dean says, lifting himself up. Cas whines as Dean pulls out, feeling empty. That empty feeling goes away once Dean pushes the cold plug back inside Cas. Cas hisses as the coldness of the plug goes deep inside of him. Dean fixes Cas’ pants before standing up and fixing himself. Cas stands up to brush the snow off of him. “C'mon, Cas. Let’s get warmed up.” Dean tells Cas, putting his arm over Cas’ shoulders, hugging him to his body as they walk over to the door.

The hunter and angel walk into the bunker, hand in hand, heading straight for the showers. The two take an almost scalding hot shower to warm up while having a bit more fun that includes Cas being fucked up against the shower wall. They put on some comfortable clothes before heading into the kitchen where Dean made them some hot chocolate. “Here you go, angel. Why don’t we go to our room to get warmed up?” Dean asks, handing Cas his cup of hot chocolate with a few marshmallows on top. “I would love that.” Cas answers smiling, taking a sip of hot chocolate. Cas takes a hold of Dean’s hand and follows him into their room. They both get comfortable on the bed under multiple blankets, snuggled up against each other, sipping their hot chocolate.

Tags are OPEN!!!!

Tags: @bluemoon102 @trapped-in-homestuck-hell @official-castiel-winchester @fuck-struck-fangirl @xfadedmemoryx @castiellover @kamaroon @lizwinchester16 @msimpala67 @percussiongirl2017 @pimentogirl @daddyjensenross @rebelstudentoftomorrow @sandlee44 @me-lexi20 I just tagged people that I thought would be interested. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in certain fics!

[roselirry]

she doesn’t believe me

just some random thing i felt like writing based on these pics 

Los Angeles had brought Brighton a lot of things; a part time job in an upscale cocktail lounge, friends who encouraged her to buy shoes that were far too expensive for her bank account, and him. 

He was a shock to her system, someone she bumped into when she was going through the pile of discount shoes at the shop around the corner from her apartment, someone who smiled at her and said she could find better shoes for better prices at the place two blocks from her apartment. His smile was everything, wide and showing off dimples that gave off a boyish charm that she had yet to see in the city. 

She had taken a chance, asking him to show her, if he wasn’t too busy. “Busy? Me? It’s a Saturday, I’ve got all the time in the world.” He wasn’t in any type of rush, she picked up on that when he insisted on trying on shoes of his own, strutting down the aisles of the shop like he had to convince her that he could pull off the sparkling gold boots. She left that store with three years added onto her life from laughing at his cheeky jokes that left her cheeks red, and a new number in her phone; Harry Styles. A student, like her, with a job at YSL that he loved, and a passion for fruit smoothies and the old books at the top shelf of the library on campus. 

Brighton would text him for the first time on a Saturday night, moments away from leaving for her shift. She sent him a picture, a picture of her in her full length mirror; the black dress that hugged her soft curves, lips stained with a dark red color, and hair that was pulled away from her face. But she added to the picture something simple, something about the boots he picked out for her, the black velvet with intricate white patterns adding a pop to her tight covered legs. 

He sent back heart eyes. 

And a photo of the gold boots he was wearing. 

That’s how it all began, their shoes.

The next time they saw each other, she was wearing a simple pair of brown booties, nothing extravagant, but it was perfect for the setting of the cafe a few stores down from YSL. Harry made fun of Brighton’s wide brimmed hat, and she commented on a bump that had formed while he put his bun up. He pouted until she reached into her bag and grabbed a bobby pin, pulling it apart with her teeth and sliding it into his hair. 

He smiled at her and stole a few chips from her bag. 

They talked about things that made each other feel lighter; Harry’s home in England with the leaky faucet and cat scratches on the kitchen cabinets, and Brighton’s brother’s cologne and the detergent her mother used on her sheets. 

He wanted to go into fashion, “because it’s about time we say fuck it to the sterotypical fashion out there,” he told her. Though she could’ve figured that out from the silk shirt he was wearing, tattoos painted on his arm and chest. 

She didn’t know what she wanted to do, she told him, staring at him over her fruit smoothie that he insist she try because it was his entire world. “Maybe marketing,” she told him, “maybe food service, maybe an actress, I have no idea.” She came out to LA on a whim, with no direction or thought of what she wanted to do. She hoped it would hit her before she shook the hand of the dean. 

They left the cafe separately, leaving one another with a hug. 

Harry stole her hat. 

The third time they saw each other was on accident, she was behind a bar with her hot pink boots from TopShop, and lipstick to match. When she set the house drink in front of someone, she wasn’t expecting to see Harry as the receiver and he wasn’t expecting to see her as the giver. But, he smiled, “a work outing,” he told her, taking a sip of the drink she had just expertly mixed. 

She kept finding his eyes throughout the night, and he would always smile, lift his drink and her heart would flutter. 

Brighton had a crush. 

Harry stayed until she was slipping on the bomber coat that was stained with red wine, the fault of one of her tipsy friends who was far too confident in their ability to dance with a wine glass filled to the brim with ruby liquid. 

They were both sober when Harry asked if he could hold her hand, and she said yes, her entire body warm except for the joints where Harry’s ring-clad fingers had rested. He told her about the new shipment of shoes, how they were more expensive than his rent but he was seriously considering dipping into his savings solely for a pair because “they’re more beautiful than I could ever imagine designing one day.” 

She told him about the tutoring session she had attended, about how she was struggling in her class, more than she thought she would. It was a bit frustrating, and she vented until Harry pulled her closer and wrapped his arm around her, keeping their fingers together. 

“I’d like to walk with you again, if you’ll let me,” Harry spoke through the chilly night and harsh light of the street lamp outside of her building. 

From there, things were unexpected. The first kiss under the pouring rain that was more cliche than what Brighton had ever thought it would be, her rushing off to class because Harry had surprised her with breakfast outside her building and both of them forgot an umbrella. She remembers tasting the rain on his lips, clean and wonderful, and how she swore his hands had built buildings. He pulled away with a kind smile, muttering about how he was glad he didn’t mess up her lipstick, but that a little bit of her mascara fell down her cheek, and he wiped it up with a gentle touch. 

The first fight was three weeks later, when he suggested a weekend away from the city, at a tiny little cottage that his friend owned. She couldn’t take off work, and he didn’t see that until she sobbed and revealed to him that she was attempting to put herself through college and was barely scraping by as it was. “I need to stop buying those damn shoes,” she tried to lighten the mood and Harry held her close and said there were a lot of other weekends they could go away together. 

She had sex with him for the first time in his bed, swimming in dark gray sheets and with matching striped pillows. It was early morning, the sun had barely made an appearance, and he was the caffeine she would never give up. His lips jolted her awake like an espresso from the cheap place across from her apartment, the sounds he made woke her up like the cold water she splashed herself with in the morning. 

He made her feel like she could get through the day without anything but his kiss, without anything but the way his hands felt on her thighs. 

They went to lunch a few days later, marks on his skin fading and she made a mental note that they would need some reapplication soon. 

The sun was shining and she couldn’t help herself, reaching for him from her side of the table and tracing the lines on the palm of his hand, the knuckles in his fingers, the shape of his wrist and he chuckled. 

She would find his eyes and see that his eyes were on her, and he looked at her the way she felt about him; like the rays of the sun that were hitting him wasn’t the thing that made him so bright. Without hesitation she sat up over the table, leveraging herself with her hands and kissing him in the middle of the restaurant. 

“You’re beautiful,” she revealed to him, reaching for his mango smoothie and taking a sip. 

“Am I?” He wiggled his eyebrows, stealing the smoothie back and sipping it for himself. 

She nodded and pulled out her phone, seeing the continuation of messages that she shared with her mom from the previous night. It was nearly midnight when she told her mom that she had met someone, finally ready to believe that Harry was solidified part of her life for the foreseeable future, and she had described him as unexpected but everything she wanted. 

Her mom didn’t believe her when she said she had found someone British, someone who made her laugh, who picked her up when she cried, who brought her flowers unexpectedly on a Tuesday followed by take out food, someone with good hair and a smile that would brighten even the darkest days. He sounds too good to be true. Her mom had responded to her earlier in the morning, but she hadn’t seen it due to the lips that woke her up with mint and a want to spend the morning watching home design shows and go out for lunch after a shared shower. 

“Harry,” she questioned, “Can I take a few photos?” 

“Of me?” 

Brighton nodded, “My mom doesn’t believe you exist, she thinks you sound too good to be true.” 

Harry grinned, a small laugh leaving his lips, and she snapped a photo, multiple photos until he had a soft smile on his face and was looking at her like she was the lighthouse and not him. 

She sent the photos with this is him as the caption and put her phone down, locking eyes with Harry and reaching for his fingers again, “I love you, you know?” She let him know gently, not sure how he would take the information. 

He tugged on her fingers, slipping their hands together properly, “I love you too.” 

Later that day, her mother texted her back, letting her know that she could see it, he looked like someone with a full heart and a soul that complimented Brighton’s. That she couldn’t wait to meet him, but neither of them heard her text notification; they were too busy trying to find discount shoes a couple blocks from her apartment.