#haloless

Thank you so much!! That really means a lot! I'm so glad people enjoy the things I write because it's something I really love to do, and getting to share it with others is just really cool.

make me choose → @criminalbirb asked Dean and Sam Winchester or Nathan and Sam Drake

(warning for violence. and… this might turn into a series, if you’re lucky. 👀)

Dean would like to say that he was dragged up to the altar kicking and screaming. He would like to say that he fought back against his captors, the members of a pious village who were meant to help him, not pawn him off like cattle. He would like to say that he did his best, that he is only now being shoved to his knees over the sacrificial sigil painted on the temple floor because he was thoroughly defeated.

But, he cannot say any of those things. The truth of the matter is, he was too shocked to put up any sort of fight. He had come to these people to heal from an illness, following the promise of a god known for unexpected second chances, and a group of worshippers who were kind, quiet, just. He wasn’t expecting to be healed just to be slaughtered on an altar.

And yet.

Two worshippers hold his arms, ensuring he stays knelt over the sigil while the head priestess draws a knife from the folds of her robes. She advances, chanting cries to the gods, then grabs Dean by the hair and makes her cut in one, clean motion.

It’s shallow, not intended to kill, but the thin line across his neck still hurts enough to draw a pained hiss from him. The worshippers holding his arms throw him forward, then, forcing him to catch himself on the ground with one hand while his other presses against the cut on his throat, like that might hold the blood in. Despite his best efforts, however, the blood falls through his fingers and drips onto the sigil beneath him.

It lands with an audible plop, and everything goes still. The tension in the temple is a palpable thing, suffocatingly heavy in the air. A beat passes, then another. For a fraction of a second, Dean lets himself hope—maybe, maybe, this isn’t where he’s turned into dinner for a god. Maybe the sacrifice won’t work. What good could Dean’s blood be, anyway?

And then there’s a peal of thunder overhead. Beyond the temple’s windows, the sky rapidly darkens. There’s more thunder, loud enough to make Dean jerk and clap his hands over his ears, cut on his throat momentarily going forgotten, an accompanying flash of lightning, and then—

He’s there.

Dean is slow to raise his eyes, almost not daring to believe what he’s seeing. The god is shrouded in dark colors, black and deep grey silks dragging on the ground before flowing up his body. They cross tightly across his chest, yet twine around his shoulders in a way that leaves them mostly exposed. He smells like rain, and ozone, and his eyes, when Dean meets them, look like they are lit with the lightning of his domain.

Castiel.

Dean only realizes that he has breathed the name aloud when the god raises an eyebrow at him. Dean can’t help but be mildly embarrassed; he doesn’t know this god, doesn’t worship him, so he has no right to feel as awestruck in his presence as he does.

The head priestess steps forward to be standing even with Dean—though she very carefully doesn’t cross the lines of the sacrificial sigil—her head bowed and her arms extended. “Oh Great Castiel, we are not worthy to be in your presence, yet we offer your this tribute in the hopes that he will bring you joy—”

A flash of rage goes through Dean, and he tears his eyes away from Castiel to glare up at her. He presses more firmly at the wound on his throat as he grits out, “You mean you kidnapped me, you goddamn—”

The priestess hisses an insult at him, too quick for him to catch, then turns and kicks him in the ribs. Dean gasps And collapses further onto the ground, now clutching at the new pain in his stomach instead of his bleeding neck.

Above him, Castiel practically growls, and the loudest crack of thunder yet shakes the temple.

The priestess falls to her knees, breath hitching in her throat. “I—I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend you, Great One—”

“You offer me a sacrifice,” Castiel says, and shit, the deep rumble of his speaking voice nearly sounds the same as his growl. It sends an involuntary shiver down Dean’s spine. “And then you hurt it in my presence. Is this how you show your respect?”

The priestess cowers beneath the god’s rage. “N-no, Great One. I only meant to quiet him, not hurt him. Look at him! He is yours, your intended! His very soul screams of it! We found him, for you!”

Castiel flicks his fingers in the priestess’ direction. She begins to scream, but the sound cuts off almost immediately; she slumps to the ground, and Dean’s blood runs cold.

Before he can determine whether or not she is dead, however, a set of warm fingers curl around Dean’s chin, and his face is lifted back up toward Castiel’s. The god’s face is impassive, and all the more intimidating for it. Looking up at him, Dean can scarcely breathe.

This is how he’s going to die. Some religious zealots made a harebrained decision to try to sacrifice him, pissed off their god in the process, and now he’s going to kill Dean—

The corner of Castiel’s mouth ticks up in a smile. “She was right; your soul is mine. That’s good. It has been a while since I last had an attendant.”

“An attendant?” Dean repeats. “You’re not going to kill me?”

The god looks amused. “No. I am not.”

He takes his hand from Dean’s chin and drags his fingertips across the cut on his neck, sending a tingling sensation into the skin that isn’t difficult for Dean to interpret. Sure enough, when he raises his own hand to check afterwards, the cut is completely gone. All that remains of it is the blood across Dean’s skin, staining his hands.

He sags forward, suddenly dizzy. Castiel places a hand on his shoulder to hold him steady, then raises his gaze over Dean’s head to stare at the rest of the worshippers. “You would do well not to repeat your priestess’ mistakes,” he calls to them. “You will be punished for her brashness.”

Good, Dean can’t help but think. They deserve to be punished, even if their sacrifice is technically being accepted. He would be happy to see the whole village burn.

Dean can only guess how the worshippers react to the news, though, because immediately after he has spoken, Castiel’s grip on Dean’s shoulder tightens. The air constricts around them, and then between one moment and the next, the temple vanishes, the human realm being replaced with the godly one. Dean blinks in an effort to force his eyes to focus, and when they do, he sees that he is in a bedroom, alone. In an instant, he knows the truth of his fate.

A surprise Christmas/Hanukkah/Holiday gift for the lovely @haloless <3

haloless replied to your post “is this only happening to me or…? i used to have at least +4k notes...”

I had a huge drop too even though edits got notes? I'm not sure if all notes are actually shown in the feed right now, or at least in the graph

make me choose → anonymous asked Dean Winchester or Sam Winchester

Nessa.... this is the kind of thing that’s getting us sent to The Bad Place....... there have to be lines that this is crossing........... (but am I getting obsessed with it anyway? absolutely)

ANYWAY, I don’t have enough for this to write something concrete, but CONSIDER: 

one time there was a pope who was accused of partying all the time and keeping a sex demon trapped in the ring he wore (at least, according to my medieval history professor, i can’t for the life of me remember who this was. sylvester ii, maybe?? according to wikipedia, he had a pact with a demon??), SO, let’s use that as the basis for Cas, obviously

Cas accidentally met a demon when he was young, either while new to being a priest or while still in school to become on

Dean woos him because, well, what’s more fun than corrupting a devout man?

(and also, as it turns out, Cas is damn fun to hang out with, because he’s ridiculously serious and also ridiculously dry and sarcastic, and it’s great)

(and also also, of course, Cas is an animal in bed, and Dean loves it)

as Cas gets farther into his priesthood, Dean sticks around. first it’s because he thinks he can sway Cas away from his beliefs (which doesn’t happen, because not even having a literal demon around sways his faith in god), but then it’s habit, and then it’s genuine affection and loyalty

Dean casually takes out abusive and corrupt priests, which makes the catholic church a better place, and also clears some paths for Cas to have even more success

like, for example, Dean maybe sorta kills a bishop or two

and if Cas gets promoted to one of those spots, well, now Dean’s just a demon in love with a bishop instead of a priest

and then in record time, Cas is made a cardinal, again with Dean’s help

(Dean really likes him in red)

at first Dean is joking when he tells Cas he could get him elected to be the next pope. Cas doesn’t think it’s a good idea anyway, because really, using a demon to become the head of the catholic church seems a bit questionable (esp when he’s still sleeping with that demon, and is basically in a committed and monogamous with him)

the current pope dies (by COMPLETELY natural circumstances, mind you, not at all by Dean’s doing), so, really, what is Dean supposed to do? not get his human bf promoted?

except it probably doesn’t matter if Dean gets involved or not, because after the cardinals cast their vote, Cas comes out ahead on the other side anyway, probably the youngest pope in a hell of a long time, thanks to the help he had with the rest of the papal ladder, and also one of the most universally liked