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recently saw ppl discuss whether they put their medicines in a kitchen cabinet or a bathroom cabinet and i was shocked by the fact that many ppl said kitchen cabinet. so now i need you to reblog this and say where you keep yours
For your wips, I'd love to hear about Connor Connors, Accidental Keeper of Secret Secrets.
Of course! And thank you for asking about this one!
Connor Connors, Accidental Keeper of Secret Secrets is the very silly working title for my take on a fandom staple: "Jane" gets added to a Boston Raiders group text.
It's all from the POV of Connors, with some prose sections and a lot of text messages, and the general idea is:
Years ago, when they were 15, Connors and Shane both attended the same youth hockey training camp in a small town in Ontario. Everyone at the camp exchanged phone numbers, but because of Shane's hyperfocus on hockey he never really made friends with anyone.
Connors got a new phone number at some point in the years since, but he just copied everything over without checking it, so he still has Shane’s number saved even though they've never really spoken to each other.
But that means that when “Jane” is added to the chat, it shows up in his phone as Shane Hollander.
Worried that Ilya has been catfished by his rival, he sets out to get to the bottom of it with a vague plan to confront Shane when he has enough evidence. But what he actually finds is that Shane isn't pretending to be Jane to catfish Ilya. He IS Jane.
What follows is Connor Connors doing his best to make the MLH a safer place for queer people, all while keeping the truth about Ilya and Shane on lock.
Making grabby hands gestures at whatever your "Say it with flowers" WIP is!
Thanks @thevioletcaptain!
So, this one came to me suddenly when I was supposed to be writing my last Pinefest fic and I wrote 400 words in a feverish haze and then never got back to it (oops). The name may be a bit on the nose, because it's a Hanahaki fic, set in canon-verse and kind of exploring the idea of Hanahaki as a chronic illness.
I can't decide where to cut this, so I'm just going to post everything I've written so far.
The thing is, if you know what you’re dealing with and know a thing or two about believing what you need to believe, you can live a long time with flowers growing in your lungs.
Dean knew what he was dealing with from the moment he first coughed up a tiny forget-me-not blue petal. Hanahaki might not be common, might be kept quiet because the medical community has no explanation for it, but Dean’s a hunter; it’s his job to know about the strange and unexplained, to find patterns in rumours and urban legends. So, standing alone in a crypt, his face freshly healed, he was unsurprised when he coughed away the sudden tickle in his throat and came away with a delicate, perfect petal.
The trick is to microdose on hope. For every time that Cas leaves, Dean has his clumsy wink and the way his fingers look wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle. When he runs off to help the angels again, again, again, Dean has the memories of movie nights, of gentle healings that always require more contact than with anyone else, Cas coming back around again. It keeps him going, each little what if, each unexplored possibility, keeps the roots at bay, keeps it from choking him.
The petals, when they do come are on their own, in secret.
Saying something could save him, but it could kill him too, so he keeps as quiet as if his whole throat were filled with flowers.
When Lucifer kills Cas, Dean feels as if he is choking. He tends to Cas’s body alone, and only he knows there are flowers beneath the curtain shroud. He scatters the ashes in a meadow where the flowers that fall from his lips are indistinguishable from those that dot the grass. He drinks whiskey like water and the burn soothes his torn-up throat.
Cas coming back is like someone took pruning shears to the garden within Dean’s lungs, letting him breathe for the first time in weeks, but there’s more growth there, irreversable. His chest is always tight when he looks at Cas, and he clings all the more to the little moments, the quiet moments, when he can fool himself into believing that this time Cas will stay, that he wants to stay, that this vast, incomprehensible being that is Dean’s best friend will choose him for real.
RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous, and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and you post a snippet or tell them something about it!
Got tagged by @deathbycoldopen, so here I am!
If I listed every WIP in my folder we'd be here all day, so I'll leave out all scripts/original fiction and only include completely unpublished WIP fanfics that I've worked on to some degree in the past month.
The ones in green are the planned actual titles, and the ones in blue are vaguely descriptive if not tonally appropriate working titles because I haven't decided what to call them yet.
Some of these are in draft stage, some of them include graphics/images which are also in various degrees of progress, some of them are still just in outline form. Much variety!
SUPERNATURAL
One More Chain Does The Maker Make
A Body is a Body is a Body
Honey I Shrunk The Dean
Hearts Beating Life (Into Each Other)
Teachable Moments
Fragments
HEATED RIVALRY
Ilya Rozasquatch Sighting aka the mixed media fic
If That's What You're Into
There Might As Well Be Zombies
Need to Warn the Neighbors
Regulation
It's Oh So Quiet
Connor Connors, Accidental Keeper of Secret Secrets
And... okay that's thirteen WIPS 🥴 Let's see how many fic writer moots I can think of off the top of my head.
I usually forget to do these things, so I'm doing this now! These are all supernatural, though I've recently fallen headfirst into a heated rivalry hole, so we'll see where that takes us. Also my WIPs are scattered between two different gdrives and ellipsus, so I'm just doing the ones from ellipsus
- Bagman's Gambit AU
- Say it with flowers
- Regency - vicar Cas gambler Dean
- college AU
- Samwitch wedding
I'm always bad at knowing who to tag, and a lot of people I would have picked are already tagged above, so I'll just say that if you want to do this, consider this @ you
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Kind of consumed on the daily by the implications of my absolute favourite Jeeves story, “Bertie Changes His Mind”, in which Bertie is tired of his routine and considers adopting a child, while Jeeves thinks they should holiday in Brighton until the mood passes. Stratagems…and eventually spoils? It introduces Bertie’s sister and her three daughters (never subsequently referred to), and most notably is the only story narrated by Jeeves, which gives you a view into what might always actually be happening behind the scenes.
I'm absolutely devastated to have to say goodbye to my sweet baby Blossom. She was the gentlest, friendliest cat I've ever known, and I am broken-hearted. I love you Baby Grandma, my best little friend, my Bossy 💔
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“and when they get castiel back from the empty he’s happy and at peace with being vocally in love with dean even if dean doesn’t love him back—” WRONG!!! castiel conveniently has to leave for seventeen super important solo hunts in a row and fakes amnesia and throws his phone into the ocean so dean can’t track him!!!
The nothing is very important, or so he keeps telling himself. He is busy cataloguing all the bees left in the world post Chuck. He has no proof that Chuck’s loss would have affected the bee population, but somebody should be checking, and he thinks he is the right formerly the size of the Chrysler Building now just a man person for the job.
So he’s checking the bees. Every last one of them, all over the world. It requires his utmost attention, which is the only reason Castiel dropped his phone into Lake Baikal. He’s diligent, and perhaps slightly less efficient than he has been in the past.
Castiel is working his way through the forest in Winnipeg when there’s a whooshing noise behind him. He smiles and turns and there is always always always something about this, seeing his son, whole and calm. “Hello, Jack.”
Jack raises a hand in that way he does. “Hello.” He lowers it. “I need you to attend to an urgent problem.”
“Of course.” He can take a break from the bees for Jack, if he really needs it. “What’s wrong?”
“Dean,” Jack says, extremely calmly. “Is hopping up and down near the rim of the Grand Canyon. I’d like you to make him stop.”
Castiel stares at Jack. Jack’s expression doesn’t change, which makes sense, because Jack’s far too earnest to really be a kidder.
“He’s what?” Castiel finally says, out of a lack of something to say.
“He’s hopping up and down while yelling. Occasionally dangling a foot over the edge.”
“Yell- what is he yelling?”
“Something along the lines of it sure would be terrible if I died right here, if only I had an angel to save me.”
Castiel stares at Jack for another second, the flare of panic being supplanted by incandescent rage.
Without another word, Castiel takes a step, hits desert rock, lunges out, grabs Dean by the lapels, and hauls him backwards. He spins Dean around and shoves him back away from the edge.
“Jesus-“ Dean looks up, blinking, and freezes at the sight of Castiel. His hair’s shaggier than it used to be, a slightly scruffy beard on his face. “Cas?”
“What is wrong with you?” Castiel shouts, thinking hard about shoving him off the edge of the cliff. It’s the dim light of dusk but Castiel can see Dean almost immediately pull himself together.
“What’s wrong with me?” He shouts back. “What the fuck is your problem? Jack says he brings you back and you don’t even- where is your fucking phone, Cas?”
“I dropped it,” Castiel snaps.
“Where?”
“Some water.”
“How deep?”
“That’s not-“ Castiel gestures behind him at the cliff. “What is this?”
“I didn’t know how else to get you to fucking talk to me!”
“You-“ Castiel thinks about pushing him off the Canyon again. He could make it up to Sam later. “This is your solution? You-“ He gestures again. “You came all the way out here to do this? There weren’t more interesting ways to kill yourself at the Bunker?”
“Fuck you!” Dean points at him. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“I-“ Castiel resists the urge to falter. He hadn’t thought that he might need to say it aloud someday. “I have been documenting the bees.”
“You’ve been- what?” Dean stares at him. “You’re on fucking bees again?”
“The bee is a noble-“
“Oh, fuck you, Cas, I’m not listening to that spiel again.”
Castiel drops the bee line of attack and decides shoving Dean will do much better. “I did not save your stupid life from the Empty for you to-“
“Then what did you fucking save it for?” Dean shoves him back, then again, then again. “You give me this whole fucking speech, I watch you die, Jack tells me you’re back, and you just-“
“I saved it because I-“ Castiel shouts.
Dean shoves him again and this time it’s a shove too far. He yelps, gripping onto Castiel, who grabs him in return. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them, peering down to see that Castiel has them standing in mid-air.
“Oh,” Dean mumbles. “Cas, I don’t like heights.”
“Then there are smarter ways for you to have decided to pull this stunt,” Castiel answers stonily.
Dean doesn’t even give him a fuck off in response. “Can you, uh. Can you put me down? On the ground?”
Castiel thinks for a half second about leaving him here, smothers the instinct, and maneuvers them back to the edge of the cliff. Dean staggers back a good ways back and sits down heavily. Castiel looks down at him for a moment before sitting next to him, and for a moment they’re just silent, watching the stars come to life around them.
“You are such a goddamn pain in the ass,” Dean finally mumbles.
“You are not allowed to say that to me right now,” Castiel answers flatly.
“Yeah, well.” Dean stares at the canyon resentfully. “Don’t put me in a position where I gotta do stupid shit.”
“You don’t have to-“
“You fucking left,” Dean interrupts. “You fucking left, and I can only see three options why. So tell me what happened.”
Castiel continues not to look at him. “What are the options?”
“You’re a coward, you felt you put me in a weird position, or you regretted it and didn’t mean it.”
Castiel blinks, looking over at Dean. Dean’s giving him that obnoxiously defiant look, but so often under the layers of the obnoxiously defiant look is hurt and concern and fear, and he can see them now.
“Coward’s a little strong,” he eventually says. Dean gives him a downright mutinous expression and Castiel relents. “It… it wasn’t the third one. It definitely wasn’t the third one.”
Dean swallows.
“So it’s the first two?” He asks, and there’s no real heat in his voice now. “That’s your fucking problem?”
“I-“ Castiel looks over the edge of the canyon. “Yes. I suppose so.”
They’re silent again.
“Did it occur to you for even a goddamn second,” Dean punctures the silence. “That I would say it back?”
Castiel’s stomach swoops low before tightening.
“No,” he answers after a moment. “Not really.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough, Cas.”
“I-“ Castiel sighs, frustrated. “I said it to save you and I said it to say it and I didn’t expect anything in return. I didn’t… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. And I didn’t want to hear your thoughts on it.”
“That’s your problem.” There’s still no venom in Dean’s voice as he looks up at the sky. “That’s always your goddamn problem. You never expect anything in return.”
Castiel doesn’t know how to answer that, but he doesn’t have to, because Dean speaks again, eyes still trained on the stars.
“I love you,” he tells Castiel, and something in Castiel’s chest tenses and loosens all at once. “You goddamn stupid dumb as shit son of a fucking bitch, I love you. Whatever you wanna do with that information is up to you, but you gotta let me tell you.”
Castiel looks over at Dean. He doesn’t even look upset anymore. Just a little tired.
“Your hair’s different,” he says.
“Yeah. Didn’t… didn’t feel like doing much to it. I’ll get it cut soon, probably.”
“No, it’s good. I… I like it.”
Dean’s lips twitch. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You gonna start telling me all the things you like about the way I look now, Cas?”
Castiel, for the first time since he showed up, smiles a little.
“We don’t have enough time,” he answers. Dean snorts, looking to the side away from Castiel, and he can’t get a good look at him but he thinks he might be blushing a little. “Does Sam know you’re out here?”
“I told him I was working on a project for Jack but that was twenty four hours ago and he got suspicious around hour nineteen so I turned my phone off.”
“You should probably text your brother that you’re alive.”
“Yeah.” Dean looks over at Castiel. “Bees, huh?”
Castiel stifles a grin, everything that’s ever happened just seeming unbearably silly for a moment.
“They’re an important part of the ecosystem, Dean,” he answers.
Dean barks a laugh, shaking his head and grinning at the ground. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”
“Yes. From time to time.”
Dean keeps his eyes trained on the ground. “You think you could take a break from the bees for a while?”
“I… I think I’ve gathered enough data.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. I… I think I could be… persuaded to come home.”
Dean smiles a little at the word home. “Good.” He looks at the sky again. “Passenger seat felt empty without you.”
Castiel’s skin tingles a little. Hesitantly, he reaches out and tangles his fingers with Dean’s where they’re resting on the ground. Dean tightens his slightly in response.
“Keep the beard,” Castiel says.
“Oh, yeah?” Dean grins at the stars. “Mountain man thing floats your boat, huh?”
“I guess so.”
“Okay. I’ll keep the beard.”
They don’t say anything for a while after that, instead watching the way the moon lights up the night.
It’s not like either of them have anywhere to be, Castiel thinks. They’ve got time.
there should be a word for when you're wholly convinced that two characters are gay for each other but you aren't invested in their dynamic or anything you just have eyes and a brain. "shipping" implies i care.
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#1 is a hoodie. No doubt about it. Zip is there, hood is there. It is a hoodie.
#2 is where we start to question a little bit. But the answer remains the same. That is a hoodie.
#3 is not difficult at all. That is a jumper. NOT A SWEATER. A sweater is not ugly unless it is a christmas sweater that is intended to be ugly. That third one is a jumper (or a pullover if you want to be different).
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
