Castiel Whump Blog

12 years to bleed out......

Kelly Marie Tran slaying as Disney’s first South East Asian princess.

To promote the new film, Kelly hit the virtual red carpet in a show-stopping outfit. Stylists Wayman + Micah shared photos of Tran's red-carpet look, and revealed, "Our first Southeast Asia Disney Princess Kelly Marie Tran in custom Thai Nguyen @thainguyenatelier Ao Dai. This national garment was traditionally worn as a female student uniform, but has since evolved to be worn by both sexes on special occasions, weddings, celebrations, especially this time to the world premiere."

It’s finally done! As someone who really likes taking surveys and seeing the results of them, I desperately wanted to make an updated whump survey seeing as the community has been growing so much and we haven’t had one for a good while. Most of the questions are multiple choice and there is always an option not to answer if the subject matter is sensitive. 

OOF well this took me so long (aka: never using Procreate for comics again) that I’m not sure what my original point was for it except FLUFF and WING HUG or something. AKA: GIVE CAS THE HUGS HE DESERVES 2K19 


Technically this is a continuation in my TrueForm Universe though the sequence is somewhat nebulous… sometime after Cas gets cursed. :) 


If you could find it in your heart to support me and these free fancomics, I would genuinely be so super appreciative. It’s been tough for me lately and art is all I got right now. Every little bit helps. 

—

It’s his fault. 

That’s all Dean can think as he kneels on the grimy floor, slick with Cas’ blood. His fault. 

He was the one who insisted on pressing forward with the hunt, who overrode Cas’ desires to wait. He should have listened. After all, it was just him and Cas, newly human and still a little fragile with it. He should have listened to Cas’ objections, should have listened to the little coil of unease in the pit of his stomach warning him that this was a bad idea, should have, should have, should have. 

It should have only been one demon. 

There had been more. 

The demons had fought with brutal efficiency; within a few seconds, he and Castiel were separated from each other. From far away, Dean had heard the struggles, the snap of electricity that signaled a demon’s death and the grunts from Cas that accompanied the sick, wet sounds of fists striking flesh. At least Cas was still fighting. Dean was less than useless, caught in a chokehold that slowly obstructed his airway. His joints screamed in pain while black and red crowded at the edge of his vision. 

“Dean Winchester.” His name was spoken in a sneer, contempt dripping from the lips of the leader of this little outfit. In a former life, her meatsuit must have been some kind of model–she was all lithe lines and sleek muscle and tall enough to look Dean in the eyes. Her eyes flashed black as her fingers gripped at his chin. Five bright pinpricks of pain blossomed across his cheeks as her nails dug in. Dean grunted, but wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of crying out. 

“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? The whole world, open for the taking, room enough for everyone to spread out now that you killed the man upstairs, and you still couldn’t let us be.” A thin trickle of blood dribbled down Dean’s chin as her nails broke skin. “Well, you should have kept your nose out of it.” 

She drew her hand back, silver glinting as she moved. All Dean saw was the wickedly sharp point of her angel blade. He remembered how it felt, skin and muscle splitting underneath the force of the blow, how easily the blade slid into his body. Looked like he was going to get to experience it again, except this time without the failsafe of the Mark to pull him out again. 

“Dean! Dean!” 

The blade started to plunge down and Dean closed his eyes. They hadn’t had enough time, him and Cas, and now he was leaving Cas to the rest of a mortal life, alone. I’m sorry, Dean thought, tensing in preparation for the inevitable blow. Cas, I’m so sorry…

The blow never hit. Instead, what hit was a dervish, a whirl of blows and snarls and yelps. Somewhere, in the mad scuffle, Dean recognized the shock of dark hair and the flash of Cas’ shirt. Seeing that gave him enough strength to break free of the hold. His own blade slipped into his hand and he plunged it into the gut of the demon who had been holding him. 

He’d had just enough time to feel triumphant before he heard the low grunt of pain. 

He’d known what it was, but he still turned around to confirm. His eyes landed on a nightmare.