#i lied the pattern is terminal destiel brain rot

[dicklessthewonderclown]

writing patterns :)

thanks @father-salmon for the tag!

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there’s a pattern

1. time means nothing to an eternal being | 2.1 k | mature

Day One

Normally, the Mark on Castiel’s arm is nothing but a dull ache. While annoying, it’s easy to handle, easy to push away the quiet voice suggesting how nice it would feel to run someone through with a blade.

It gets worse, Dean had told him.

2. christmas blues | 4.2k | mature

Handel’s Messiah plays quietly in the background. Castiel watches the record go around and around on the turntable in the corner of the living room. Soft voices drift down from the attic, eager and excited. Flames crackle in the fireplace. The room smells of fresh pine. Flames crackle in the fireplace. The room smells of fresh pine.

3. just ask him out already | 2.6k | teen

The regulars are Dean’s favorite part of his job. He knows some of them by name, for others, he and Charlie have come up with nicknames.

4. swapping bodies | 1.4k | gen

Dean grunts as his back hits the wall, gun landing several feet away from him. He dives for it, narrowly avoiding another flash if light. The witch begins to mutter something in Latin, and oh shit, that doesn’t sound good, but he doesn’t have a clear shot. “Sam!”

5. wrath | 5.2k | explicit

“Dean!” Michael’s harsh voice echoes through the camp, heads turning to stare.

Dean ignores him, head held high as he stalks across the footworn paths. Rage bubbles beneath his skin, his fists clenched, the back of his neck prickling with the watchful eyes of both his and Michael’s armies.

6. no grave can hold my body down | 1.8k | teen

Pain. Blinding, nauseating, permeating every cell in his body, pining him in place. His shirt is warm and wet, clinging to his skin. His hand shakes as he clutches Sam like a lifeline, tears blurring his vision. Sam’s hand is burning hot on his wrist. “Tell me it’s ok,” he whispers.

7. staring in the blackness at some distant star | 1.7k | teen

Dean frowns, body still heavy with sleep, when he reaches behind himself to pull Cas closer, when his hand finds an empty space in his bed, not even any warmth left from Cas’s body.

8. i need you | 1.4k | mature

Cas grips Dean tightly, and in an incredibly nausea inducing pull behind his navel, the submarine’s walls, along with the entirety of 1944 vanish. Dean blinks, willing himself not to throw up as the bunker rapidly appears around them, Cas’s hand still gripping his shoulder tightly.

9. catstiel | 1.8k | mature

Friday

Dean is late getting home from work on Friday night. Bobby had asked him to stay late to finish up a car for some hotshot banker who had paid extra to ensure it would be done before the weekend. Dean doesn’t actually mind, though he had bitched about it all day to Cas via text.

10. mornings aren’t so bad with you | 1.1k | teen

Dean’s favorite thing to do on Saturdays is sleep in late, wake up to Cas sliding back into bed, warm and naked after his morning run and shower, the irresistible smell of coffee brewing wafting through the house. There’s no better way to suffer through the atrocity that is mornings than Cas pressing soft kisses to his shoulders and the back of his neck, the promise of coffee in the air, his husband in bed with him, and sometimes a wonderful wakeup blowjob