#justholdingstill

[mishac0ded]

Favorite fics

Here's my favorite fics list! I know there's probably a million of these out there but I need to give fic recs and I have no one to recommend these to. These are all pretty popular but I hope maybe someone can find something to read. 💙💚 (After putting together this list I have learned I suck ass at descriptions and literally cannot explain how much I love all of these fics. I will update often)

Patient Love by chaoticdean

Everyone Expiriments in College by rachelladeville

til the bone crush by stayawake

Ignorance Is Bliss (Usually) by 60r3d0m

The Bond-Breaker Murders by Desirae

Wild and Deserted by castielslostwings

Castiel Novak's Office, This is Dean by emmbrancsxx0

What Happend In Vegas by Ltleflrt

Cursed or Not by Ltleflrt

Kiss the Baker by Ltleflrt

Hope on Fire by Ltleflrt

No Words by Ltleflrt

Heart's on fire by chaoticdean and savetheclaypots

Death of a Bachelor by Fangirling_FTW

Satin and Sawdust by Ltleflrt

Falling Inn Love by MalMuses

First Gentleman Wanted by youaresunlight

this is a love story by

FollowingButterflies

You're the one that I want by Caduceuzs and captcas

Parachutes by chaoticdean

Half Empty by sinnabonka

Dreaming in Digital by Ltleflrt

Our House filled with Colors by Klayr_de_Gall

Little Gray Smudge series by VampAmber

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by rupertgayes

the bluebells blush when they sing by fleeceframe

To Build a Home by intothesilentland

A Bet's A Bet by crazyassCas

it's brighter now (babyjackverse) series by cowboydeanwinchester

Glory Hallelujah by chaoticdean

Hearts Made Of Atoms series by Aaron_The_8th_Demon

Many The Miles by dothraki_shieldmaiden

right where you left me by outdean

Where All My Journeys End (A Twist and Shout alt-ending) by Say_It_In_Enochian (WIP)

Ninety-One Whiskey by komodobits

Willing Victim of My Wayward Heart by Redamber79

Talk series by bendingsignpost

Stay With Me series by MandalaRose

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets

cut that shit out (I think I'll sew it back in) by angelsdean

Long Haul by justholdingstill

Freefall by Songstress42

Angel Farms series by DinosaurGummies

Bitch Better Have My Money series by DuckyBoos

The War Figure by allmystars

A Little Patience series by Riseofthefallenone

as snow in harvest by nasri

On The Edge Of A Blade by Aaron_The_8th_Demon

For All You Young Hockey Players Out There, Pay Attention by thursdaysfallenangel

[deancaspinefest]

Long Haul  |  Explicit |  40,226 words

Author: justholdingstill Artist: casarts

Quarantine is a bitch and lockdown is worse, but Dean’s got a brand new neighbor with a balcony across from his who’s about to make things a lot more interesting.

Link to fic and art

Pairings: Dean/Cas (background Sam/Eileen/Max, background Charlie/Dorothy, past Dean/Lisa)

Warnings:  Bad Parent John Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mental Health Issues, Reference to past suicidal thoughts

[justholdingstill]

skee-ball wizard, E, 1.6K

This one goes out to @doctorprofessorsong for suggesting in the @spnbangbang chat that Dean n’ Cas in an established relationship would get stupid competitive over arcade games and start betting over who gets to choose the next depraved sex thing they do/make with the shit-talk and start trying to distract each other from winning. The rest is all my fault. Enjoy. ;) PS please join the bang, we are having a ton of fun! (This is not my bang fic, for the record, just something that wouldn’t leave me alone.)

Involves kinky dirty talk in a semi-public setting. 

Nine times out of ten, Dean’s gonna stomp Cas on the classic cabinet games at the arcade–he grew up playing them in the lobbies of the better motels, in the movie theaters he snuck Sammy into, after school with whatever friends he might have made in the town of the month. He learned to pick locks just to jimmy fistfuls of quarters out of laundry machines, to buy himself short windows of time, thirty or sixty minutes long, where it was just him with a steady eye and both hands on the controls, aiming to put his initials up on the leaderboard before he hit the bottom of his pockets. Cas never stood a chance.

Cas likes Pac-Man for himself, and has an alarming gift for Big Buck Hunter ever since he started getting comfortable with the weight of a real rifle in his hands, but he prefers the games with more of a physical dimension to them: pinball and the air hockey table and that claw thing full of stuffed animals that Dean has forbidden him from playing unless it’s a very, very special occasion. He does not need a back seat full of plush rabbits, damn it.

Skee-Ball, though–Cas loves Skee-Ball. He’s fucking fantastic at it too, which Dean figures has got to be a hangover from rolling off the factory line with the physics comprehension and the hand-eye coordination of a celestial warrior despite how human he is now. Turns out, Cas is kind of a competitive motherfucker. And that would be just fine except that he’s also picked up Dean’s skill of talking smack with a fluency.

Because Dean is a competitive motherfucker too, albeit one who can’t stop running his mouth when he’s in the heat of it and gunnin’ to win; he knows this about himself. He accepts this about himself. He’s chased the impulse headlong into all kinds of fun and trouble over the years. It’s even kind of an art, he might say, if you get enough tequila in him.

He should have known better. Because Cas wears his shirts now (and fills them out nicer than he ever could, but that’s beside the point), and Cas steals sips of coffee from Dean’s cup when they’re driving, and Cas pops the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth when he’s concentrating really hard on something just like Dean does—Cas is a quick study and an incredible shot and he doesn’t miss, or miss anything, so of course he was was going to hone shit-talk into a weapon sharper than any blade. 

That’s probably some kind of sin, Dean figures; add it to the list, right next to the hustling suckers at pool and the gambling their earnings just as fast over which one of them can put their big wooden ball into that tight little “100” hole first, pun absolutely intended. 

Dean doesn’t worry too much about sinning any more–he’s pretty sure he maxed out that limit an angel-handjob or twenty ago–, but he remembers all too well what it’s like to bring the laser-focus of heaven’s wrath down upon himself because it’s scarily similar to the look Cas is giving him right now, right after he’s decided that playing for money is no longer exciting but competing for who gets first pick off their growing “kinky shit we should try” list later tonight is.

Dean licks his lips. “Yeah, okay.” 

So that’s his first mistake. 

His second is not telling Cas to back up out of his space while he’s lining up the shot of a lifetime, because just as he’s calibrating the flick of his wrist to put the correct spin on the ball, Cas sidles even closer. He puts his mouth dangerously close to Dean’s ear, so that his hot breath sends shivers racing down Dean’s spine when he whispers, “when you lose, I’m going to put you over my knee and spank your ass so red that when you sit across from me at breakfast tomorrow, all you’re going to be able to think about is how I own it even when my hands aren’t on you.” 

Dean flubs the shot, but still manages to score thirty points. He’s a goddamn champion, all things considered; Cas is gonna have to try a little harder than that. 

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, just as quiet, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at that big purple dildo we got last month. Maybe when you lose, it’s gonna be your turn to find out exactly how hard it is not to come when you’ve got all that girth up inside you. Think you can handle that?” 

Cas actually drops the ball, but he snatches it out of the air before it can hit the ground. He scores fifty points, and then he glares at Dean with one eyebrow arched in a threat. 

His third mistake is looking at Cas at all; his pants situation is already inappropriately uncomfortable, and it doesn’t help in the slightest to have Cas looking at him like that when Cas fires back with, “I promise you that I could ‘handle it’ with far less whining than you manage to do. I might even enjoy it. Too bad for you that your skill of sucking here in the arcade is going to translate nicely to you sucking me on your knees this evening as an apology for thinking you could challenge me. When are you going to learn, Dean?”  

The answer is never. Dean is never going to learn, because winding Cas up is way too much fun for all parties involved. His ball glances off the edge of the hundred-spot and lands him a mere ten points instead, but he doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t break eye contact with Cas. He doesn’t say another word until Cas finally manages to drag his gaze away from him and reaches for another ball from the dispenser. 

“I dunno, man. I’m hearing a lot of jaw-flapping about losing, but I haven’t seen you win yet. Maybe it’s you who’s not learning.” 

See? It’s an art form, and Dean is some kind of maestro, because Cas’ eyes immediately jerk back to him, full of fire. “Maybe it’s you,” Dean continues, “who should be showing me a little respect.” 

The exit sign is glowing red above a door not far behind them; he half-expects Cas to drag him out to the alley right then and there. He wouldn’t complain. He never does. Instead, Cas goes still, a predator who’s caught the scent of his prey on the shifting wind, every sense and every muscle honed in on Dean, daring him without words to make the wrong move. 

Dean licks his lips and adjusts himself. He glances down the length of the arcade–there’s only one other couple nearby, too engrossed in Space Invaders to notice their existence, and the handful of other patrons are lingering at the bar or over by the pool tables. He looks back at Cas, and Cas just gives him this dark little smile. 

Cas takes his shot. He scores another fifty points like it’s nothing. He wraps an arm around Dean’s waist and presses a chaste kiss to Dean’s temple with a thoughtful hum. To an outsider, it’s probably sweet as hell. They’re gross and in love–Sam has told them so about a billion times, wearing various shades of nausea. 

“You really should just give up now, beloved. You’ve put in an admirable effort. There’s still time to bow out gracefully.” He tips his forehead against Dean’s; Dean sucks in a ragged breath. “Nobody here would judge you for an honorable forfeit, knowing what I know: how much you love it when I bind your wrists and ankles so all you can do is squirm while I ride your gorgeous cock. Hmm?” 

Dean shudders, the mental image of it dripping arousal honey-thick down his spine, clouding his senses. Cas is right; he does love that, especially when Cas gets to flicking and pinching at his nipples, too, making him whimper uncontrollably. It’s almost worth losing. 

Almost. 

“Dunno, Cas,” he sighs, stepping away to pick up another ball. He throws it up in the air and catches it. “You know what the thing about you is?” 

Cas tilts his head and squints. “I do not.”

“It’s just that you’re always underestimating me,” Dean tells him. He catches the ball again, once, twice. “Always forgetting that I know shit about you too, buddy. You know what I know, Cas?”

“Tell me,” Cas says, his voice sounding like it’s been torn to shreds. He shifts from foot to foot—subtly, sure, and his jacket’s obscuring Dean’s line of sight, but Dean’d be willing to put every dollar he still has on his guess that Cas is hard enough to pound nails right about now. 

“You like being tied up just as much as I do. More, actually.” 

He does; a lot more. They have dozens of feet of soft black cotton rope that can attest to that fact, and where Dean has a complicated relationship with restraint, Cas seems to find a whole-hearted joy in wrapping intricate patterns over and around his own skin, gets breathless over the idea of being able to limit his own physicality, his own movement. Dean thinks he understands why, and he loves it too: tying Cas’ wrists to his thighs so he can’t touch himself, his hands to his chest, tying those broad thighs apart so that he’s open and helpless to Dean’s hands, his mouth, his heart. 

He’s beautiful like that, bare and vulnerable. He thinks Cas knows, hopes he knows. 

“Maybe I’ve been thinking about that,” is all Dean says. 

He lines up his shot.

He shoots. 

He scores. 

A hundred points, like he was born to do it. 

The machine starts pouring out tickets, but Cas is already halfway to the door, to the car, and Dean? Dean’s hot on his heels. 

*

[tohellandbackanthology]

contributor promo: beesareawesome + justholdingstill

Artist Name: beesareawesome      I      Artist Social: @bees0are0awesome​ on Tumblr

Writer Name: justholdingstill  I      Writer Social: @justholdingstill​​ on Tumblr, justholdingstill on AO3

Their itinerary is unapologetically touristy. They do the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, the famed travertine pools of Pamukkale at sunset. When he thinks Castiel isn’t looking, Dean furtively snaps pictures on his phone to email to his brother, scowling and blushing prettily in the fading light when he’s caught. They kiss, blasphemously, in the shadow of the Church of Saint Peter, wander the ruins of Ephesus, of Patara, Mount Nemrut, Burdur. 

Castiel had walked these lands once, before, under much different circumstances--in a different vessel, in a different life. He doesn’t say as much to Dean, but he suspects Dean knows anyway, or at least can guess. He’s uncharacteristically quiet in Xanthos, watching Castiel fit his broad hand against  a block of crumbling marble as if searching out the heartbeat of the long-dead city, biting at his lower lip.

--from death on two legs by justholdingstill

Itching to get your hands on the rest of this story & art collaboration? For a limited time only, you can grab your own gorgeous copy of To Hell + Back: A Destiel Anthology now from February 14 through February 28, 2021 at our pop-up shop here!

Do hurry, because after February 28, 2021, 11:59 PM PT, this book will never again be available! This 3lb brick of Destiel goodness, featuring 80+ creators, is filled with stories, comics, poetry, full pages of art, and podfics! This is an exclusive anthology celebrating Dean and Castiel’s legacy—truly a keepsake you will not want to miss! Ships April 2021.

[godshipsit]

"Can I get another drink?" I asked The bartender when I was too torn to ask for a warm body. And I greeted my whiskey as one does with an old lover, baring myself to its warmth and its bitter taste. But as I drank its poison and let it burn through my veins, I realized there is no antidote for losing you. Still, maybe one more sip will finally put me to sleep  a dreamless slumber where regrets won’t haunt me, and I won’t mourn the touch of your hand on my hand. The glass went broken, the night was soon through. When I woke up in the dirt I was still missing you.

Losing you;

Supernatural Poetry Challenge | @godshipsit vs @firefly124 vs @justholdingstill Prompt: Whiskey Pairings: Dean x Castiel Tags: S13, Implied Major Character Death, canon!verse, alcoholism, grief

[northernhearts]

Hey new followers! If you are a fandom blog - particularly Supernatural, Buffy, Welcome to Night Vale, Harry Potter, Letterkenny, Sense8, The Get Down, Broad City, ect. - please come follow my multifandom tumblr over at justholdingstill!

It’s a side blog, which is why I can only follow & interact as northernhearts, but I would dearly love to have y'all join me there - I post & reblog a mishmash of fic & fic recs, art, meta, and other random tidbits that don’t really fit in here. I look forward to meeting you! :)

[chiliscale]

Plastic Guns

For @wincestwritingchallenge

Prompt: Someone’s pulling a gun, and you’re jumping into the middle of it

My partner: @justholdingstill​

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore

Rating: Teen

Notes: I´m so, so sorry guys! It took them nearly three weeks to fix my internet and I was too busy with the chaos that my life has become to sit my ass down in a coffee shop or somewhere. Hope you can forgive my tardiness! Enjoy!

Summary: Sam is only trying to have a fun afternoon with friends. But his past is never completely gone and sometimes memories resurface whether he wants them to or not.

Link: AO3

‘Sully´s Amusement Arcade’

The letters are huge and brightly illuminated, a siren song trying to lure people in.

Sam laughs at Jess´ squeal of excitement when she spots the colorful lights and neon signs surrounding the place and he doesn’t even try to resist when she pulls him along to the entrance. Their other friends seem less thrilled at the prospect, but none of them protests in earnest, their initial reluctance disappearing entirely when they come face to face with the sheer endless rows of arcade cabinets and their inner ten-year-olds take over.

Jess is having the time of her life as she makes them play one ridiculous game after the other and insists on trying some of the overly sweet and brightly colored drinks they serve at the bar. They goof around, try their best to earn new high scores or defeat each other in Mario Kart and Pac-Man, Tetris and Donkey Kong.

Sam´s an absolute mess.

He can´t keep up with anyone, drives his tiny digital car down every abyss and into every fucking wall he can find, and is absolutely unable to get the damn monkey thing to jump high enough to escape the barrels.

It´s still glorious. Fun. Relaxing. Normal.

One of those casual-afternoons-with-friends that other people indulge in regularly, where their only objective is to enjoy themselves and laugh at and with each other, where school work and other worries are far from their minds and unimportant, irrelevant.

Sometimes Sam still can´t believe that this is his life now, that he´s allowed to have fun without purpose, doesn’t have to watch his back for potential threats or check the time to make sure that he´s back before Dad notices his absence.

Amusement Arcades might be a dying form of entertainment now, but in his childhood, they were omnipresent – colorful, happy places full of children, laughter and forbidden things, a window to a world where parents didn’t leave or die, where money wasn’t short and fathers didn’t care if you´d finished translating that Ancient Greek text on blood magic or not.

Sam had always loathed and loved these places with equal fervor. Loathed them because they were just another point on a long list of reasons why he didn’t fit in with the other children, loved them because sometimes Dean would just tell the world to fuck off and pull Sam into an arcade anyway.

They never had much money to spend on games or arcade food, usually just a few meager dollars that would allow them to play a game or two, and so they mostly watched as other people enjoyed themselves. It was wonderful nonetheless, a few short moments of escape and innocent fun.

Well, Sam´s still pretty low on money and will probably have to eat ramen for two weeks straight after this indulgence, but having a shot at ‘normal’ is more than worth a bit of discomfort.

It would be great not to suck at everything, though, and so he´s more than thankful when Brady suddenly wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him along with the promise of a game that´s supposed to be more in his area of expertise.

Sam´s not sure what he expected or how Brady knew, but it certainly wasn´t this.

Zombie Wars III – one of those ego shooter games where your only goal is to shoot as many of your adversaries as possible without getting yourself killed first.

It´s perfect. Frighteningly so, probably the one game in the whole arcade that Sam could win easily if he wanted to.

It´s also way too close to his real life, to his old life, for comfort. There´s too many memories.

Sam´s seven the first time he shoots a gun.

He´s seen them before, of course, touched them, disassembled them, helped Dean fill rock salt into empty shotgun shells - it´s normal, pretty much inevitable in a world where your Dad spends more time and money on his weapon arsenal than on his own kids and where gun cleaning and maintenance is as much part of their daily routine as brushing one´s teeth and washing one´s face before bed time.

But up until todays he´s never been allowed to use them, to click the safety off and take aim, to pull the trigger and finally see if he´s talented enough to make Dad happy for once, to have Dean smile at him in that one special way that makes it obvious how proud he is.

So yeah, the night before, Sam´s excited - almost queasy with anxiety and a weird mixture of fear and anticipation that makes sleep impossible. It´s so bad that even crawling into Dean´s bed and curling into his brother´s side is not enough to calm him down and he lies awake for most of the night, mentally going through the gun safety rules and shooting stances Dean has taught him.

Morning comes both too fast and not fast enough and he´s barely able to stomach his meager serving of soggy lucky charms. His fidgeting gets only worse when Dad stumbles in a few moments later and blindly grabs the oversized coffee mug Dean is holding out to him, gulping it down in long, greedy swallows before impatiently gesturing for them to get into the car

Thirty-three minutes later finds them all at the edge of the forest, Dad pacing up and down in front of them as he gives another of his gun-safety-speeches. Sam isn’t listening, has heard them all a million times and more, but he still doesn’t dare sneak a glance at Dean for fear of earning himself an even longer lecture due to his inattention.

Finally, finally John stops and presses a small pistol into his shaking hands. They go through the correct stance together, Sam trying to mimic what he´s seen Dean do, John adjusting and correcting until Sam´s deemed to be in the perfect position, safety already clicked off, gun aimed straight at one of the empty beer cans a few feet away.

The recoil is more powerful than he´d expected, the force of it rattling his whole body and causing him to stumble backwards - it´s loud and unconformable and it makes his ears ring.

Sam doesn’t like it.

He´s watched Dean handle a gun for years now, has memorized every movement and posture and trick his brother knows and Sam has always been a quick study and really good at picking up new skills, but this is different. This is so very unlike any of his books – he can study guns, read everything about shooting, but for the first time in his life theoretical knowledge alone just isn’t enough.

He´s not improving. Fifteen tries and he still hasn’t shot anything, has missed each and every single time and he´s closer to tears than he´s been in years, shoulders shaking with the effort of holding back his frustration. It doesn’t help that John´s impatience is almost palpable and his instructions are getting increasingly rough and snappy.

But then Dean´s there, warm hands carefully adjusting his stance, low voice whispering instructions and encouragements.

“Breath, Sammy. I know you can do it! Forget about Dad, it´s just us out here… Just you and me, Sam. C´mon, breath.”

And Sam does. Aims and breaths and wills the stupid bullet to finally hit home.

It´s still surprising when it does, when the can falls off its perch with a clatter and then Dean runs off and picks it up, holds it high enough that both Sam and John can see the wide bullet whole right in the middle of it, pride and joy shining brightly in his face.

John just nods, only somewhat appeased and grumpily declares that Dean is going to be teaching Sam from now on.

And that´s everything Sam´s ever hoped for.

Dean is patient. He´s the perfect teacher, gentle and kind where Dad is harsh and demanding, quietly talking him through every step, praising him when he deserves it, silently correcting him when he doesn´t. They practice for hours and days and weeks. Aim and shoot and aim again, cans and bottles and moving targets until Sam is every bit as good and fast and confident as Dean himself is.

Until he´s so close to perfection that even John has to acknowledge it.

Until he´s good enough to be able to protect himself.

To protect Dean.

“Come on, Winchester! Show us how your geeky ass can handle a gun!”

Sam blinks and suddenly he´s back at the arcade, his friends surrounding him, cheering him on, telling him to take the gun and give it a try.

Jess is jumping up and down in front of him, all excited joy and green-eyed encouragement. She´s beautiful in that moment, gorgeous, perfect and he knows she´s absolutely gone for him already.

He also knows he should love her just as much, that he could be happy with her, that she deserves his full attention, his undivided devotion.

Instead, all he can think of is strong hands gliding over cold metal, calloused fingers disassembling guns and rifles with practiced, sure movements, confidence in every grip and pull and push. And then those same hands gliding over his skin, handling him with the same power and firmness, knowing exactly where and how to touch, warm lips on his ear, a deep voice whispering filth and praise and promises.

But Sam left. Sam ran. Left his old life. Left everything. All of it. Forever.

Fuck.

Unthinkingly, he steps forward, steals the gun from Brady´s grasp and takes his place in front of the screen.

The gun feels strange in his hands. The weight and balance is off – it´s too light, too artificial. Lifeless plastic instead of cool metal, there´ll be no recoil to compensate for, no deafening noise will accompany each shot, and for a moment Sam almost misses the familiar weight of his old gun. There´s no time to ponder, though, because loud music swells up all around him and then ridiculous, zombie-esque creatures are closing in on him on wobbly legs.

Sam stops to think and suddenly he´s calmer than he has been in months. Instincts kick in and he simply allows himself to react, to adjust his body, to aim and shoot and kill one zombie after the other, cold precision and familiar reflexes taking over. He shoots, shoots like Dean taught him to all those years ago, fast and sure and unfailing and he knows he´s fucking nailed it even before the cheering starts and some high-pitched computer voice proudly proclaims him the new record holder.

The world comes rushing back and then Jess is hugging him, kissing him, screaming into his ear while Brady is staring at him slack jawed and Connor loudly demands to know where he´s learned to shoot like that.

His friends cheer and laugh and shout as they pull him over to the bar to celebrate his victory and they´ve only just reached it when the high score music goes off a second time.

There´s a new record.

Sam has been beaten.

Jess´ shout of indignation is flattering and amusing all at once, and Sam´s lips are curling into a tiny smile even as he turns around to face his rival, his whole body freezing as soon as his eyes fall on the tall figure of a man leaning against the gaming console.

He´s still wearing the same old leather jacket and combat boots, ratty jeans that desperately need to be washed, a thin leather cord disappearing under his black shirt.

Green eyes stare back at him, mischievous and cocky and all kinds of smug and then Dean slowly raises the fake gun, aims it straight at Sam und pulls the trigger with a wink.

[dusky-rambles]

For @winchester-reload​‘s Suptober, and for @justholdingstill​, because she and I are of the opinion that Sam deserves nothing but love. 

DAY 4: Books

Eileen is sitting at the table, her face buried in the huge tome in front of her. Sam’s too far away to see what book it is, but he knows her well enough to know that it’s probably some kind of lore on some obscure piece of mythology – she’s as much of a geek as he is when it comes to this sort of thing.

A strand of hair falls over her face and she reaches up impatiently to push it back. It’s an innocuous action, one that he’s seen a hundred times before, but for some reason, it hits him like a freight train right now.

She’s beautiful.

The swoop of soft desire in his belly is all too-familiar, and Sam has to fight the instinct to turn around and flee. It would be so easy, he thinks, just turn and go – Eileen wouldn’t even know that he was standing here like the creeper he is and watching her.

It would be easy, but it wouldn’t be right. Because he owes her more than that; he owes it to himself to at least try.

So he forces one foot in front of the other until he’s standing in front of her, waiting for her to notice him. She looks up almost immediately, the frown of concentration on her face curving into a warm smile when she recognizes him.

“Sam!”

“Hi Eileen,” he signs as he speaks. His heart tightens when her smile brightens, and she signs for him to take a seat next to her.

“New case?” he gestures at the tomes in front of them. Close up, he sees that he was right – they’re all books of lore, particularly lore of the kraken, and the thrill of discovery runs through him.

“Possibly,” she says. “A friend called, thinks something’s haunting the lake near his house.” She pauses, and then holds out a book in his direction. The smile on her face turns shy. “Would you like to help?”

Sam smiles back then, taking the book, their pinkies brushing. He lingers a moment longer than he usually would, and Eileen picks up on the hint – she squeezes her pinkie around his before moving back and turning back to the book in front of her.

“Catch me up,” he says.

There will be time, he thinks, later, for this… this thing building between them. The last time he’d felt this way, Jess had burned on the ceiling. But the last time, he’d been alone, because while Jess knew him, she didn’t know all of him.

This time, though, he’s not alone. Eileen’s right there with him – she does know him. All of him. 

This time, Sam promises himself, it’ll work out.

[winchester-reload]

What is the coolest Destiel thing you own? I won't judge you at all if it's a piece of your own artwork. :) Happy Holidays!

Nonny, I apologize for sitting on this ask a while, but I have a good reason... (burnout, but also:)

The absolute, hands down, coolest fandom things I could ever be lucky enough to own, are always going to be fandom collections. For example, the gorgeous labor of love from the @tohellandbackanthology team. The best part of fandom imo is the cooperative creativity of it, and fearless teams like the people at To Hell + Back prove that with the amazing showcase books they're able to put out. Now, I was lucky enough to have art on the print cover, but it's the talent inside the covers that really makes things like this a 'forever collectable' for me. The writers and artists, the organizers and editors, I have no words for how priceless I find these things. The heart and soul of so many people, coming together to celebrate this thing we all love, is everything. It's beautiful. I'll have it forever.

A very VERY special thank you to @justholdingstill for Dean Winchester-ing their way in the abyss where lost mail goes to die to retrieve my copy of this book after my dumb ass didn't update my mailing address like I was supposed to all those months ago. And thank you to everyone on the TH+B team for the incredible gift package. You letting me include my silly art on your beautiful project was gift enough, and I know I'm late to my 'thank-you's' , but I hope it still hits sincerely.

Thank you for this.

Now, please excuse me while I crack this baby open and do some sobbing.

[casarts]

LONG HAUL

a @deancaspinefest story by @justholdingstill and art by yours truly!

"Quarantine is a bitch and lockdown is worse, but Dean’s got a brand new neighbor with a balcony across from his who’s about to make things a lot more interesting."

[sharkfish]

love ‘em, can’t live without ‘em: early-career writers!

[masterpost of rec lists]

new content creators are the lifeblood of fandom, so here i present stories by folks who have five or less destiel fics published (...so far) as of december 2020!!! 

please give them some love!!! 

under the cut since it got long~ 

the burden of belonging by Newtondale @soft-klaus (8k)

Dean doesn't know where he's going, he just drives.

He meanders. Takes whatever road he wants without worrying about efficiency or speed. He watches the landscape change around him as he heads east, towards the sea. Sometimes he listens to music, and sometimes he doesn’t. Most of the time he just thinks, the way he has always thought best; with an open road ahead and horror close behind.

Cas always comes back to him. Cas has always come back. Whether it takes minutes, or weeks, or months - Cas comes back to him.

But Cas hasn’t come back. How much longer is supposed to wait? Minutes? Months? How long is he supposed to live like this, like there’s nothing else that matters except the space beside him where Cas should be?

So he just drives.

Dean Winchester’s 12-Step Guide to Inebriated Online Retail Therapy for Fallen Angels and Judgemental Brothers With Bad Hair (Suck It, Sammy) by justholdingstill @justholdingstill   (3k) 

Alternatively titled Dean Wayne: The Life & Legend

Dean gets drunk. Dean orders things online. Hilarity ensues.

Hang-Ups by anupalya @anupalya (2k)

A slip of the tongue while hanging up a zoom meeting with Castiel leaves Dean in a panic.

****

Jsksdjdjskal

I'm starting to think you're letting Blueberry walk over your keyboard again.

i'm moving to Thailand

?????

I have to

Dean

I have no choice

... so I take it the meeting went well?

dream root & fumbling through the darkness by visionsofyerface @omnishamblegreg (1.3k)

Dean takes dream root for some fun angsty wanderings into Cas’s head, and then actually goes to the Empty, but Cas doesn't believe it's really him.

How Long? by MinxyOne93 @substitutesalt93 (WIP - 37k)

Dean has been going on reckless hunts by himself. Cas confronts him and all those years of unresolved pining come to a boiling point.

_

"Dean. How long?" The angel said, still quiet but so raw with emotion, eyes still wide with shock.

Dean looked down at the floor and sighed. "Since... always. I knew it for sure in Purgatory. But always." He then added in a near whisper, tears threatening to spill from behind his now closed eyelids, "I'm sorry, Cas."

"Sorry? You're sorry?" Castiel felt dumbfounded. The constant loneliness and longing he had sensed from Dean that seemed to grow worse and worse with the passing of years made so much more sense now.

"Dean," was all Cas could say before releasing his grip on his collar and gently, slowly, deliberately, kissing the corner of his mouth. A shocked gasp left Dean’s mouth of its own accord and he melted into Castiel's tight embrace.

It's The Thought That Counts by oceaxe @oceaxe-ifdawn (3k)

It’s Dean’s birthday and while angels have no birthdays, Castiel has a) been around human cultures for long enough to be aware of the nearly universal customs of celebrating the anniversary of a loved one’s birth and b) has been living with humans for long enough that he’s been included in some of those celebrations. But the art of gift-giving continues to elude his comprehension.

Lucky Winner by natmoose @natmoose (32k)

Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with.

But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

Once Upon a Falling Star by GrandestBlood @grumpy-mccat (WIP - 3k) 

Alternate outcome for season 5's Endverse where Castiel never lost his grace but he was tricked to retreat back to heaven with the other angels, leaving Dean behind in the refugee camp.

Prompt for this was: The world has ended 500 years ago. You finally went back to Earth and discovered a voice message. You learn a shocking secret about 500 years ago.

Sending A Message by ivebeenpossessedbysatan @ivebeenpossessedbysatan (WIP - 15k)

Castiel Novak didn't expect to be kidnapped. Sure, he'd seen it happen before, but that was all in movies. Just because his mother had married into money didn't mean that someone was actually going to kidnap him and try to ransom him for money.

Only apparently it did, because here he was, tied to a chair in the corner of the most cliché warehouse he'd ever seen.

Why was this is life?

so leave me // at the roadside by LinkInThePark @saminzat (3k)

”This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone out on his own at all, but he was tired of sitting around in the bunker, where the walls seemed to close in on him and the halls were too empty at the same time. Where everything reminded him of what had happened, of the battles they had fought and the people they had lost.

Of the words left unsaid.”

Dean is taking the Impala on a ride, trying to escape everything that's happened... And, in the process, is finally forced to confront his grief. 15x19 coda.

Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, but Words Might Get Me Laid by Mrs King of Hell (Slytherkins) @slytherkins (3k)

When Dean's name calling goes too far, Castiel decides to teach him a lesson in manners.

"Take a Sad Song and Make it Better" by Shishquah_CustardTree @shishquahcustardtree (WIP - 27k) 

After being bought and abused by Alistair for many years, Dean Winchester finally gets another chance at life and love by the means of a car crash and a bullet.

The One (1) Time Dean Winchester Tried Something New by archangelgabe @3dg310rdsupreme (2k)

What fun is a relationship that doesn't start with the gross misunderstanding that your crush is hitting on your kid brother?

The one where they get heaven-married by mercurialkitty @mercurialkitty (1.3k)

First a quick chat with Sam in the Impala, then it's off to find Cas.

A finale fix-it where Dean and Cas get heaven-married

There'll Be Peace When You Are Done by diaryofageekgirl @diaryofageekgirl  (5k) 

Somehow, in the middle of severing vamp necks in the dead of night in a run-down barn in Ohio, Dean had a revelation.

Or: nothing stays dead on Supernatural.

This is heaven by madbrilliant84 @madbrilliant84 (800)

“Come on dude! Don’t tell me you don’t know what your legs look like! I bet you could crush melons with those.”

Cas seemed incredibly amused by this. “And that’s something that turns you on?”

Dean smiled while biting is bottom lip. He slowly nodded. His playful tone dropped to something more heated.

“Uh huh. First thing I noticed when I saw you sitting on that bar stool.”

You're Not Alone by Wordsintothevoid @deancas-stan (15k)

Dean has an imaginary friend. Sure, that's weird as hell but he doesn't care. Cas has been there to support him during every horrible thing in Dean's short miserable life and he is not giving up Cas. Sure, Dean may also sorta kinda be in love with him. Oops. And it hurts but Dean will keep it platonic. But then Cas leaves. And then Dean breaks.

We’ll All Arrive in Heaven Alive by invisibledrugs @reasonsweweresinging (1k)

The Winchesters are finally dying, and for good.

But that's okay, because Dean knows what - and who - is waiting for him.

last but definitely not least, @uncastiel doesn’t have any fics yet but is taking prompts! 

[urne-buriall]

18 20 24 26 summer camp chitaqua, if you feel like it!

here we go with Summer Camp Chitaqua

18. How would you describe your writing style for this fic, if you can?

the fun and silly eps of spn turned into fic. a little more flexibility allowed for the sake of humour, like when Jensen brings out the goofy side of Dean. though there's always (I hope) an element of humour & things that would make you laugh in even the heaviest of my fics, here it felt like the opposite, adding a dose of drama/plot to keep it weighted down while the overall vibe was pretty lighthearted.

20. What is something you wish more people noticed about this fic?

hard one. lots of the things I loved writing--the teenagers, Cas' little outfits, the fatherly moments--had a good response from readers. I just hope that the complete lack of personal space and intense staring from early seasons came across. in my head, Dean and Cas were always mere inches apart.

24. Did you write every scene in order? What was the first scene you wrote, and what was the last?

there were a few bits I added retroactively, but usually I write straight from start to finish. Dean's scene with Jack and the painting then talking things out with Bobby came at the advice of @justholdingstill who realised something was missing. since this was written for a challenge, and since I had very little time to write it before deadlines, I didn't have time to dither and otherwise wrote straight to the end.

26. Wild Card! I'll tell you a fun fact about this fic!

although Bruce Springsteen's "I'm On Fire" isn't on the fic playlist, it is absolutely playing underneath this scene with Dean unable to fall asleep after kissing Cas. like yes, hello: "At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet / And a freight train running through the middle of my head / Only you can cool my desire."

ask game

[deancaspinefest]

Long Haul

Author: justholdingstill | Artist: mybelovedcas Posting on Sunday March 20

Quarantine is a bitch and lockdown is worse, but Dean's got new neighbour with a balcony across from his who's about to make things a lot more interesting. 

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Little does Dean Winchester know: today is his lucky day. On a normal day, he starts at the garage at eight AM sharp, which means that six days a week he leaves home before seven thirty, which means that only rarely does he ever get to observe the building complex stirring to life around him. He’s been learning that it’s nice just to watch Mrs. Aguirre puttering on her own patio, watering her mini jungle of plants, deadheading her begonias while she sings to them in her rasping voice. He’s learned that Mr. Benson down the hall likes to begin his day by listening to opera with all his windows open. He’s learned that the Adeyemi twins downstairs regularly perform some kind of combative, bed-jumping jiu-jitsu drill as a precursor to getting dressed in the morning, much to the exasperation of their parents. He’s learned, for better or for worse, that Jody and Donna, veterans of the night shift, sometimes have a shockingly creative and energetic pre-dawn sex life, about which they are not audibly shy. And, on this particular Thursday, he’s learning that he’s got a new third-floor neighbour he’s never seen before, situated directly across the courtyard from him. Better yet, the new neighbour is hot, the kind of hot that’s scruffy and windswept and maddeningly casual about it, the kind of hot that makes Dean’s mouth dry in a way that has nothing to do with the liquor. Best of all, he’s doing yoga on his balcony in the sunshine in nothing but a pair of soft, slim-fitting navy boxer briefs. Which, hell yeah. Hot Guy is not only hot and bendy, but he’s hot, bendy, tattooed and mostly naked. Score. This is the best thing that’s happened to Dean in at least a month. Maybe longer, if he’s being genuinely honest, because he wasn’t exactly burning it down out there before the rest of the world started coming apart at the seams. Hot Guy seems singularly focused on his practice--stretching slowly but intentionally into each each movement, each pose flowing smoothly and serenely into the next, his eyes mostly closed in concentration as he moves through a routine that seems like second nature to him--so Dean’s fairly certain he hasn’t taken notice of Dean out-and-out ogling his downward dog. He’s gonna count that as a blessing, because the dude’s got these thick, lusciously-muscled thighs that strain the legs of his shorts and make Dean want to weep at their absurd perfection; he couldn’t tear his eyes away if his life depended on it, and don’t even get Dean started on his arms. Dean’s fairly certain he hasn’t noticed, that is, right up until Hot Guy brings the routine to a close, eventually rouses himself out of the little nap he takes at the end, stands to roll up his mat, and then turns to shoot Dean what is unmistakably a wink accompanied by a little wave before he heads back inside. Fuck Dean’s life gently with a chainsaw.

 [continue reading on Ao3 on Sunday March 20]

[justholdingstill]

is this not what happened?

The Confession™️ x this scene from Schitt's Creek. Full credit for all except the last of these beautiful gifs goes to @inacatastrophicmind , i just played with them. ;)

[tohellandbackanthology]

We promise we’re still very hard at work...

On Friday, @destimushi, @justholdingstill, @casthewise and @60r3d0m met up to discuss some very important anthology work as well as enjoy some comfort food! We promise we’re working hard!

On another note, if you haven’t already, please consider signing up as contributor for our anthology project!

Sign-up HERE. Sign-ups close Oct. 12.

Read our Wiki HERE.

[walks-the-ages]

Sharkfish and justholdingstill for your free incest shippers blocklist.

They're out here complaining that wincest shippers are being banned from fandom events lol, feel free to block everyone in the reblog chain too