#destiel fic planning

[nayeliq1]

Okay so. I'm really gonna write this mpreg thing huh. Never thought I'd say this two years ago but here I am. Fanfic has ruined me. This is not gonna be everyone's cup of tea and that's fine. I don't mind it but never really read it either. Yet here I am with a concept on how to make by bois suffer deliciously through their miscommunication and then find together in a beautiful way in a story built around this trope. So yep. Guess imma write that. Stay tuned

[hauntedpearl]

I'm such a big fan of immortal cas endgame but he's not an angel, not fully, not the way he was when he came to earth, the righteous man his charge, when the apocalypse was still the most terrifying thing in the world and there was hope of keeping it at bay. but he's not human either, because he can never be, because the body that is his — his — is still not really his. the soul he's grown can't fit in it quite right, not the way a human's is supposed to, anyway.

where does this leave him? somewhere between heaven and earth. with his clipped wings, and his crooked, cracked halo. he'll never quite be human, but he's human enough for his little family of misfits. and he's never going to be an all-powerful angel again, but he's angel enough to teach his son the things he needs to learn, to heal the hurt when he is able, to cross the boundary into heaven when he's called. it's an odd, uncomfortable, terrifying, wonderful place to be. and maybe it's not exactly what he wants, and maybe he longs for his wings and his grace and the power of heaven at the tips of his fingers sometimes, but it's enough, he thinks, considering. he's happy. isn't that kind of the whole point?

[fatally-addicted-to-fiction]

my favourite out of context planning for my fic so far

[youchangedmedestiel]

I happen to have a fic with two endings.

I can't choose the one I prefer. One ending has light angst and the other is funnier. And I just... can't choose.

So I'll guess I'll post the fic with the two possible endings in different chapters and like that YOU can choose which one you prefer because I can't. It just gives you more content so I guess it's fine.

[casdeans-pie]

Still working on a Trueform!Cas post-canon fic.... here's a teeny tiny snippet.....

Dean hadn’t really seen much of Cas, other than the extremely awkward ‘reunion’ that they’d had when they’d first seen each other again in Heaven – Cas finally free of the Empty, and Dean, well, dead. Cas had looked at him with an expression that seemed to flick back and forth between something like wonderment and fury, and Dean, his skin itching with the urge to do something (Do what? Do what?) had shrugged and said, ‘Just how I said I’d always go’. And between one blink and the next Cas had disappeared with the sound of beating wings.

[bloodydeanwinchester]

YAY IM FREE FROM WORK FOR 17 DAYS!!!!!!!!

[vivitalks]

guys i genuinely don't know what to do. my quirky little destiel fic which was already far too long to begin with now has a second smaller fic nested inside of it and somehow the second smaller fic is the absolute crackfest of this supernatural/tazamnesty crossover where dean lowkey hooks up with barclay the bigfoot and i don't KNOW what to DO. do i cut the scene. do i post it separately. do i post it separately but ALSO leave it in the fic. do i just pretend like barclay is an OC i made up and all the references to the fictional town of kepler west virginia are incidental. WHAT IS THE MOVE HERE

[destiel-wings]

context: I'm writing a LONG wip (should be 55 chapters, an actual epic story with action and plot though romantic destiel filter) and I'm thinking about when i should start posting it. Generally I'd want to finish first and post afterwards, so i can update regularly and not be distracted from the actual writing, but it's gonna take me way too long to finish it (like two years realistically??) so I'm thinking maybe i might start posting it before, even if less regularly? So i can share it with you earlier and you can engage with me as i write it?

[hauntedpearl]

blue minutes (ao3)

1.9k, post-canon, Dean/Cas, Fluff and Angst

Some nights, Cas slips out of bed.

The dreams wake him. The memories wake him. Sometimes, the chill in the air wakes him.

And then the world shrinks.

So.

Some nights, Cas slips out of bed.

He presses a kiss to Dean's brow before he does, curls his fingers in the air behind his ear. Feels the soft puff of Dean's breath on his throat.

He lets it be the thing to remind him of his skin.

~

He touches the things that mark his life as he moves about the house. The iron doorknob. The wooden railing. Picture frames on the wall along the stairs.

He'll sit down, then, in one of the lounge chairs out on the patio. The brand new couch by the fireplace. The hand-painted chairs in the kitchen by the window.

A moment, then another, then another, then another.

The world grows bigger.

If he squints, he can flatten it. The greys and the blues and the purples dissolve into the black. The dimensions collapsing into one unknowable expanse.

Into nothing.

It is quiet. Always, always, so quiet.

His mind is foolish enough to believe that he's back where he once was. Back where he never wants to go again.

He closes his eyes. His heart pounds. His ears ring.

He could scream.

(He is afraid the sound will stick to his throat.)

He could scream.

(He is afraid to find out.)

So, he bites his tongue. Sits in the quiet. Tells himself that this is not what it seems to be.

And it isn't.

It isn't.

When he touches his chest, he feels the softness of his shirt. The warmth of the muscle underneath. The outline of his ribs. The steady thumping of his heart.

When he touches his chest, it swells.

His body breathes, despite his mind.

His body breathes, because it must.

His body. His home.

He turns his palm over, knuckles pointing to the ground, and the weight of the world settles on it.

It is light. It is heavy.

It is.

By the heavens, it just is.

That is how Dean finds him that night.

"There you are!"

The timbre of his voice is low and rough.

And yet.

It fills the world. Lingers in the air.

Cas opens his eyes. Curls his palm into a fist against his sternum.

"Shit, Cas," Dean says, moving around the edge of the kitchen table to kneel at his side. "I woke up, and you weren't there. Scared the living daylights out of me, man."

Cas blinks down at him.

Dean's face, close to his chest. His palm settling over the meat of his thigh.

His skin tingles where Dean touches him.

And suddenly, he is aware.

Of his breath. Of his bones. Of the warmth of his skin.

The breeze whistling past his ear.

He wonders if Dean knows that he carries the world with him. That he brings it into every room with his voice.

That Cas can forget sometimes, and Dean reminds him.

Of this soul. Human, and frayed, and bright.

Of this body.

His body. His home.

Even if he can't see it now, he imagines he can feel the light of Dean's soul — its heat setting the darkness afire.

Something like a shiver races through his body, then. And Cas clutches at Dean's hand.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Dean's frowning up at him. Softening his voice for him.

Cas looks at the way the skin of his forehead creases. At the way his brows tilt.

The back of Cas' eyes sting.

Nothing, he wants to say. Stop frowning.

It's nothing.

Nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

He cracks his parched mouth open. Cups Dean's cheek in his hand.

Nothing, he wants to say.

Instead, he says, "The weight of the Earth's atmosphere, the pressure of it... that's what keeps you alive, Dean."

The worry in Dean's eyes morphs into confusion. His gaze turns searching.

"About fifteen pounds of air on every square inch of your skin. Remove it, and death comes to you swift. Your blood boils. Your skin stretches. Your heart...bursts open."

The look of abject horror on Dean's face is almost funny.

Almost.

"Uh, Cas...," Dean begins, but Cas cuts him off. Digs his fingers lightly into Dean's skin.

"That's what it's like."

"What?"

A whisper.

A terrible innocence in it.

Cas pinches his eyes closed. Clenches his jaw.

(Nothing, he wants to say. Stop frowning. It's nothing.)

"That's what it's like," he repeats, through gritted teeth, words fighting their way out from behind the lump in his throat, "when The Empty takes you in your vessel. When—"

He gulps, forces the heat crowding his mouth back down into his chest.

Still, his voice shakes.

His lashes grow wet.

"When it took me in—in this body. That was what it was like."

A terrible silence. An echoing one.

Cas doesn't want to look. Doesn't want to know.

He looks anyway.

Dean is gaping at him, eyes wide and bright. The veins in his temples twitch

Cas turns to him fully and brackets his body with his knees.

He cradles Dean's face in his shaking hands and says, "I know it's over. I know it is. You saved me, Dean."

"Cas—"

"You did, Dean, you saved me. But, sometimes. In there, I couldn't — I wouldn't— It wouldn't stop. And now, it has. But—"

There.

There, on his fingertips, a pearl of a tear.

On his cheeks, the cool slide of one.

Their weighted breaths in the space between their bodies.

Cas' gaze flits between Dean's eyes. He clutches Dean harder, lets his palms slide so he can hook his thumbs around Dean's ears.

"I don't know how to forget," Cas says, and his voice is breaking. "I don't know how to forget, Dean."

And he doesn't.

He doesn't.

He wants to, and he doesn't.

When he sleeps, his dreams wake him. His memories wake him.

And the world shrinks. Widens. Darkens.

Takes him back.

He doesn't know how to make it stop.

And he's tired.

Of trying. Of doing it alone.

He's just so very tired.

"I'm —," he begins. Swallows a hiccup that rises to his throat. Blinks, and blinks, and blinks, dislodging the tears. Dean holds onto his wrists, quiet. Waiting.

Cas tries again. For Dean. For the silent tears that graze the base of his thumb.

"I'm tired, Dean. I'm just so tired."

A sob slips past his lips. A wretched thing.

A wretched, broken thing.

"Cas," and Dean's voice is raw. Scraped and sandy and dry.

He bows his head for a moment, then turns. Presses his open mouth to the center of Cas' palm, to the juncture of his wrist, the curve of his forearm.

Then, he stands, taking Cas with him.

Dean wraps his arms around him, holding him tight. Cas clutches the back of Dean's shirt in his fists.

The world is just the two of them.

The world is their rapidly beating hearts.

The world has never been so full.

"Oh, sweetheart," Dean says, his palm cradling the back of Cas' head. "I've got you."

And —

(It's the damnedest thing)

Cas believes him.

He buries his face in Dean's neck.

And for the first time in his long, wonderful, weary life — he weeps.

Dean keeps up a steady litany of soothing whispers. He cards a hand through Cas' hair, rubs circles into his back with the other.

"My darling," he says, peppering the side of Cas' face with wet, sloppy kisses. "I'm here. We're alright."

~

Oh, sweetheart. Darling. I've got you.

~

Weeping, Cas notes absently, is a little like drowning. The way the world narrows until all you can hear is the blood in your ears. All you can feel is the water clogging your lungs, your throat, your mouth.

He has drowned before.

He doesn't remember the surfacing. But he had, anyway.

He does so now, too.

~

There is salt in his lashes. On his cheek. His lips.

His face pressed into the wet spot on the shoulder of Dean's shirt.

He grimaces when the fabric rubs against his skin.

It isn't — pleasant.

He lifts his head and hooks his chin on Dean's shoulder instead. Sets his forehead against Dean's temple. Buries his nose in his hair.

A moment, then.

The settling of his heartbeat against Dean's. The cool touch of a breeze on his itchy, ruddy cheeks.

Something soothing in the air by his ear.

Something incredible in the press of their bodies. The —

—sway of them.

Because that's what Dean is doing.

Dean is swaying them.

Singing under his breath, words that ring familiar through the hazy veil of Cas' human memory.

There's a somebody I'm longin' to see

I hope that he turns out to be

Someone who'll watch over me

Cas' snort of laughter surprises them both.

Dean stills.

A beat.

Resumes this pseudo-dance, nudging Cas' feet with his own this time.

Then—

"I can't watch over you like I used to," Cas whispers, clutching Dean tighter. "I'm not an angel anymore."

Dean stops singing.

And yet.

The music lingers in the air. The impression of his voice. The warm lull of it.

It weaves between their bodies, keeps their feet moving. Keeps them swaying.

"You'll always be my angel," Dean says, his mouth pressed against Cas' temple. "And, hey. It's my turn, anyway. To watch over you. You can rest a while, sweetheart."

~

Dean told him once, about a future he never thought he'd have.

A home.

Someone to build that home with. Someone to hold.

Children. 

Dean told him once, about watching Garth and Bess through their living room window. Arms wrapped around each other, bodies swaying to the croon of their old record player.

Not a care in the damn world at that moment, he said.

Made something twinge here, man, he said, thumping his chest. Made it ache.

Cas wonders what Dean thinks of them, like this. Red nosed and puffy-eyed. Clutching each other, desperate and white-knuckled.

He wonders if Dean's chest still aches.

~

"I don't know how to make it stop, either," Dean says to him, later, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to Cas' thumb.

Cas lays on his side, facing Dean, letting the tip of his finger trace the freckles on his cheek.

"But I do know that it gets better. With time. You just. You gotta let yourself be miserable, once in a while. Gotta let someone take care of you when you are."

"Mm," Cas hums, tilting his head into the pillow under his cheek. Raises a brow. Presses the pad of his thumb to the corner of Dean's mouth. Says, "That so?"

Dean grins at him then. Huffs a laugh. Rolls his eyes. 

He surges up to fit his mouth to Cas'.

Dean kisses him deep and open-mouthed, rolling them over so he's hovering over Cas, one hand buried in the mop of his hair, the other skimming his side.

"Quit bein' such a smartass," Dean mumbles against his lips when they break for air, brushing their noses together. 

“You love me anyway,” Cas says, his thumb brushing over Dean’s cheek.

He is awed that it’s true. That he can say it at all. 

Dean’s grin softens. Brightens. 

(He is awed by that, too.)

And kisses him. 

“Yeah,” Dean whispers. 

[wormstacheangel]

Suptober Day One: Maze

This wasn’t his ideal date situation but it sure as fuck didn’t surprise him anymore. All he wanted was a fake haunted hayride and a stupid picture of Cas carrying a pumpkin but of course police tape would cover the entrance of the corn maze. The police cars surrounding the place also gave them a little clue that it wasn’t there just for decoration. 

“You know what retirement means, Cas?” And now they’re walking around at night with their stupid flash lights trying to find some sort of local legend instead of fucking cuddling on the back of a stupid tractor. 

“I do.” Cas walked ahead of him, only a few steps away, but Dean can hear the eyeroll in his tone. 

“Then why are we hunting in our stupid fall sweaters?”

“You picked the sweaters.” Cas stopped to look back at Dean, a little confused but then his serious face returned to glare at him. “And I think finding the missing children is more important than choosing a pumpkin to take home.”

How is he supposed to argue with that? 

Dean walked past his husband with a shrug, flashing his light to the corn stalks ahead of them. “Whatever. Let’s just find these kids and get a picture of you on top of a haystack or something.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Cas chuckled just slightly before he reached to give Dean’s empty hand a squeeze before dropping it. “Just don’t get mad but I think I tore my sweater, just a little, back there.”

“I told you we should have left them in the car!”

Dean turned to check the sweater but then froze when he heard some rustling in the corn.

[allsassnoclass]

For wip word search, ‘violet’ if it appears or ‘hand’

hi annie! i have 5 wips that i'm using for this game and violet doesn't appear in any of them :/ but we have quite a few instances of hand (or hands), so here's one from each of the 5 documents!

from mundane suffering, a little destiel thing that was supposed to be for domestic december

Dean pushes the heel of his hand through the dough, stretching and pulling it back in a steady rhythm that feels like second-nature to him now. 

from my baberoe lover, please stay songfic

He wasn't sure if he would wake up.  Babe is the lighter sleeper of the two now, wandering the halls of their house at all hours, unable to shake the phantom feeling of his rifle in his hands, the niggling feeling that something will go terribly, horribly wrong if he doesn't keep watch.

from my malum kid fic!

“Hello,” Calum says to Michael.  “Who are your friends?” “This is my Uncle Luke and Uncle Ashton,” Mason says, grabbing them each by the hand and tugging them closer. “We’re his favorite uncles, right Mason?” Luke says.  Mason nods enthusiastically.  Michael rolls his eyes. “I’m an only child,” he tells Calum.  “Mason doesn’t have any other uncles.”

from a haunted house with a picket fence

Michael hums.  Calum glances at him out of the corner of his eye.  He looks solid, like Calum could reach out and touch him without his hand going straight through.  It’s still hard to reconcile the person next to him with the one who keeps flickering out of existence, but he also isn’t the guy who’s picture got plastered online when he first disappeared.  There’s a heaviness here that Calum didn’t get from any of those images, a distinct otherworldliness that can’t be captured in still images.

and from unmute chapter 3

“Luke, come on,” one of the roadies that flew with them says, tugging him away with a hand on his waist, making a clear path for him to follow out of the crowd and saving him from having to continue talking.  He weaves in between people, pulling away and taking some deep breaths as soon as they get out of the crowd. “Alright, darling?” his mum asks after he’s inhaled a few times. “Yeah, fine,” he says.  “Are we going?”

send me a word and if it's in my wip, I'll give you the sentence it appears in!

[maulfucker]

wait. forgort I was planning on writing but feel indecisive

[celebreultimaverba]

Chapters: 4/9 Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Anna Milton, Cassie Robinson, Sam Winchester, Naomi (Supernatural), Jack Kline, Raphael (Supernatural), Esper (Supernatural), Kelly Kline (Supernatural), Bela Talbot Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Artificial Intelligence, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Androids, Aliens, Corporate Espionage, Weird Ship Sex, unrealistic technical knowledge, Sabotage, Planned Mind Control, Mind Wipes, Dean Winchester Has a Tentacle Kink, Temporary Character Death, Amnesia Summary:

Dean likes his job. Loves it, even. He's a hell of an engineer, keeping the Seraph-class Angel, Castiel, running as their ship flies through space. The AI has been reset twice a year ever since before Dean started working with him, but when Castiel learns how to lie to get around the strict anti-sapiency protocols Heaven Technology has put in place, what starts as a fun quirk of Dean's best friend turns into a hell of a problem.

There's nothing saying that you can't fall in love with your ship, but one day it's going to bite someone in the ass.

[castielsfeatheredballs]

I'm going to tell you guys about the AU Deancas couple counseling fic I want to write someday. Brace tyself cause this will be LONG

[starkskypines]

me, writing: and now dean and cas kiss

dean and cas: actually what if we slow dance in the kitchen

cas: and what if i wax poetic about how dean is a desert and also a hurricane all at once

me: if y’all are like this all the time no wonder spn had 12 seasons of y’all dancing around each other yet being gay af all the time

[valleydean]

i have written cas as an archangel but i think this human cas in my pirate au is the most larger than life version of him i’ve ever written. which is awesome for me personally