41 - 47 of 47 Bookmarks by decaffeinatedcat
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"If the heat didn’t tip him off, the sharpness of the adrenaline racing through him and the bite of gravel kicked up by the passing tires settles it. He’s definitely not in Heaven anymore."
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Dean, 24-year-old Dean, and Castiel walk into a motel room.
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This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.
The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.
Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.
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Castiel decides that the only fitting place for things to end is in Night Vale where, for Dean Winchester at least, they can maybe begin again.
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What it says on the tin, bros.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 912
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 418
- Kudos:
- 1,645
- Bookmarks:
- 140
- Hits:
- 11,430
Bookmarked by decaffeinatedcat
20 Nov 2020
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Dean Winchester is in love with longtime boyfriend Rusty Nail. What more do I need to say?
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GUYS THIS IS SO STUPID, BUT SO IS THE WORLD RIGHT NOW
Cas is the owner of Four Seasons Total Landscaping, and he received a very curious call on a quiet Saturday morning. Dean owns the adult shop next door, and is very confused by what's going on. Good times are had by all, except Donald Trump because fuck that morally-bankrupt tangerine.
Is this technically a crackfic? It feels like it should be, but like this actually happened in real life, and I don't know how to handle it besides writing fic.
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MAG ███: Abandonware by poppywine
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), Lemon Demon (Musician)
16 May 2020
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"Walking into that cramped, musty place had the feeling of wandering into a tomb: spiderweb hung thick in the air, some webs larger than my hand. But somehow even those felt abandoned, with dust coating each strand so totally it looked like a fine-spun wool."
Bookmarked by decaffeinatedcat
26 Aug 2020