Circular_reference
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- Hilda (Cartoon) (1)
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red overcast isn't normally good for plants by Circular_reference
Fandoms: Hilda (Cartoon)
14 Mar 2022
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"The time has come where you must choose a familiar."
Old gods, she couldn't have been clearer. It seems choosing a human wasn't the BEST choice Frida's ever made. Especially not a human once cursed to be a troll.
The council's not gonna be happy about this one.AU where Hilda doesn't become Frida's familiar until after the events of The Mountain King. (Also I wanted to put my own spin on the familiar mechanics lol)
BEING REWRITTEN
it has come to my attention that this fic is VERY similar to another fic, so i'm rewriting it :PSeries
- Part 1 of Hilda Brainrot
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- 2,279
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Mutants are considered second class citizens, or worse. Discriminated against at every turn, mutants are marked and monitored by The Registry and any deemed too dangerous are taken away to The Facility. It’s no surprise that many try to hide or choose a more permanent way out if a mutation develops.
Castiel’s parents hid his mutation and hid him away from the world. He’s grown up with the knowledge that the world will hate him, no matter what he does. If he leaves the house, he can only do it with a long, heavy coat that covers the most beautiful part of him.
It takes a pair of brothers to help him really spread his wings and live.
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i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees) by sobsicles
Fandoms: Supernatural
29 Apr 2021
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Dean keeps going back.
When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.
He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.
He likes to talk.
There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.
Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.
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A spell has hit Castiel forcing him into his true form – only roughly the size of a cat. It will be months before the timing is right for the spell to turn him back. Will Castiel be able to last that long, and will Dean ever see his husband in this strange celestial being?
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- English
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Bookmarked by Circular_reference
14 Jan 2026
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“I think,” Cas grits out, “that the spell requires me to say the truth. I’ve been trying to suppress it with my grace, but it’s… not working.”
“Got it,” Dean says, nodding, because he can work with this. “Yeah. Sure. So give me some truths. Some stupid little ones.”
Cas narrows his eyes. “Such as?”
“Like, I dunno, what’s your favorite color?”
Cas’s face somehow goes stonier. “Green,” he ekes out.
Dean clears his throat. Blinks a few times. “Oh.”
________Or: when Dean and Cas investigate a group of high school students getting mysteriously ill, Cas gets hit with a truth spell.
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Dean Winchester’s been camp manager of a science research station on the Alaskan tundra for thirteen years. Dean likes his job; fixing the camp trucks, troubleshooting the generators, keeping clueless undergrads and NSF bigwigs from walking into grizzly bears or getting lost in snowstorms — it’s all in a day’s work. It keeps him pretty busy, and this year his brother Sam's visiting too, so he's even busier. So it’s really not any of Dean’s business when some weirdo antisocial ornithologist sets up a tent a few miles away, a dark-haired blue-eyed guy who’s doing a “very long-term" study on birds or wings or something, and who never, ever takes off his big lumpy backpack. But then the new guy starts dropping by camp for coffee and... well, he’s not officially part of camp; he's not Dean’s responsibility; he’s really not Dean’s problem at all, but when a strange blizzard comes sweeping in, Dean gets worried and goes to check. Thing is, Dean's spent years in the sweeping vistas of the Arctic. He knows all about the midnight sun and the northern lights, the ice caves and avalanches, the rough-and-ready Haul Road truckers and the even rougher-and-readier wild animals. But even so, what he finds is much more than he bargained for.