abbadon is dead

Request: Cold

Request: So happy your requests are open!!! Your fic where the reader gets captured by a djinn is literally one of my favorite fics ever, I read it all the time!! Can you do a fic where Dean has the mark and the reader are having a fight and dean beats her in the heat of the moment? The reader is afraid of dean after this and sam has to comfort her. Then dean apologizes and FLUFF!?! If you decide to write this I would love you forever, can’t wait to see what you come up with! :)

Word Count: 2,129

Thank you so so so much!! I really hope this is what you wanted, and have an amazing day<33

(Warning for violence and sort of trauma, I guess? Dean attacks the reader - it isn’t too graphic or anything, but if that might upset you please steer clear. I love you guys, and I’m always here if you need<3)

The bunker is cold when you walk in – so cold that goosebumps rise on your arms and your breath forms clouds before you, dissipating into the freezing air. You shudder, pulling your bag more securely onto your shoulder and slipping down the wrought-iron stairs, careful not to make too much noise.

There’s no sign of a fight of a struggle and it seems that you didn’t step into a cold spot, the entire bunker remains this icy temperature. You stop off at your room to grab a jacket and drop off your bag – all this time, you run into neither brother nor any sign that they’ve been here since you left. You’ve been gone a day. Maybe it’s some kind of prank?

“Dean? Sam?” You call out softly, your quiet footsteps feeling deafening in the library, “Are you guys messing with me?”

Nothing. Not so much as a peep – that is, until you hear a clatter coming from the armoury. You dart towards it, hand already going to the gun holstered at your hip. You fling the door open, and-

“Dean?” He’s sat at the table, a (quite frankly) terrifying range of weapons in front of him. Guns, knives; you’re pretty sure one of them is a grenade launcher. He isn’t even cleaning them or doing maintenance… he’s just sat there. Staring. He doesn’t even notice you as you cross the room, staring at all of the weapons.

“Did you turn the heater off?” You ask, rubbing your upper arms as your words turn to puffs of white air. He laughs, so small it could be considered a scoff, and shrugs.

“It got too hot.”

That isn’t the Dean you know. There’s no emotion in his voice, no sense of who or where he is. It’s terrifying that your Dean could just disappear, swallowed by this Mark-of-Cain-tainted monster.

“Okay… where’s Sam?”

“Out.” Is all he says, pushing himself up from the table. The chair screeches against the floor but he doesn’t flinch at the noise. He walks past you, muttering something about being in his room. His room, despite the fact that the two of you have shared a room since moving in here.

In honesty, you’re scared senseless. Now Abbadon is dead, you’ve done nothing but try to get rid of the damn mark but nothing is working, and it feels like every day you spend waiting for a solution, the further Dean travels down a road – and you don’t know how far he can go before he can’t make it back.

You give him a half-hour – you turn the heating system back on, then make yourself a warm cup of coffee and pull on a hoodie to keep yourself warm in the meantime. Then, you slip into your bedroom, waiting in the doorway. Dean stands, not looking at you, his hands balled into fists by his sides.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” You ask softly, wrapping your hands in your sleeves, “It’s a lovely day outside, maybe the sunshine would do you some good.”

He doesn’t turn, but audibly sighs as if you’re a great burden on him, “I’m not deficient in vitamins, Y/N.”

“I never said you were.” You defend, “Come on, Dean, you can’t stay cooped up in here all day.”

“I’d rather be in here than out there. Just leave me alone.” He says, his voice void of all emotion. You lean against the doorframe, shaking your head slowly.

“Dean, come on. You can’t just stew yourself like this.” When he turns to look at you, you straighten yourself – there’s something terrifying in his eyes and you can’t relax when they’re fixed on you like that, “Please, come outside for an hour. We could drive down to the diner or-“

“No.” He says simply, advancing on you, “Y/N, you have absolutely no idea what is going on. Stop trying to fix things you don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand!” You insist, “I want to help you. I want to make this better and you keep pushing us away!”

“Because it doesn’t get better!”

“Bullshit!”

“Does it ever occur to you,” He’s towering over you by this point, glaring daggers straight into your soul, “That there may be no cure for this? That this is just how it’s going to be from now on?”

“If it goes on, it comes off. That’s the way it works. Get over yourself, Dean, and do something practical for a change.” You can’t help the anger. You know you shouldn’t, that any malice he sees in your words will be magnified a thousand times to him but… you can’t help it. You turn sharply on your heel and stalk out of the room, into the corridor.

You weren’t expecting him to follow. You definitely weren’t expecting to be shoved to the ground, or for him to lend on top of you, slamming your face into the ground.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” He snarls, his breath hot on your ear as he bends down, “Ever. You owe me, Y/N, don’t you ever forget that.” His hand wraps around your neck, blocking any air from getting into (or out of) your lungs. You struggle, but it’s pointless – on a regular day, you could fight him off, but the mark seems to have given him a strength not even an experienced hunter such as yourself can beat.

“Dean!” Your vision is quickly clouding, black spots expanding in your peripherals, but you still hear Sam’s voice. Suddenly Dean’s weight is dragged off of your back and he lets go – your vision clears almost instantly as you gasp in air, clutching your throat. You scramble away from him – Sam shoves his brother back into the bedroom, snapping words at him that you can’t quite make out. He returns to you quite quickly, taking in your bloodied nose and quickly-bruising neck.

“Oh, shit, Y/N,” He looks you over, trying to make sure that you haven’t been otherwise hurt, “Did he-“

“No,” You try to say, but it comes out as more of a pathetic rasp than anything else. You flap a hand at him, “Go, make sure he isn’t-“ As if on cue, an almighty crash comes from the bedroom and Sam flinches, squeezing your shoulder gingerly before standing back up, shoving the bedroom door open.

***

It’s a while before you pull yourself out of the spare room you’d hidden yourself away in. You’d rather not altogether, but you’re starving and sore and you seem to remember Sam having a heat pack hidden in the kitchen somewhere for post-hunting aches and pains.

In fairness, your injuries could have been worse – your nose took a while to stop bleeding and your cheekbone is bruised, your ribs ache, and your neck is black and blue, but you’ve dealt with much worse. It’s not the what that turns your stomach, it’s the who and the why.

You shuffle to the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink and putting the heat pack in the microwave to warm up. The bunker has warmed back up but the atmosphere is decidedly cool. You lean against the countertop, your hands braced on its edge as you sip your drink, watching the plate spin around and around.

“Y/N?” You didn’t hear Dean approaching but before you know it, he’s right behind you. You have a gun pressed to his chest before he can so much as take a breath, your hands visibly shaking, “Hey, hey, okay,” He holds up his hands, watching as you flinch. He backs off quickly, his eyes wide with concern, “I- I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

It’s him again – you can almost see the warmth emanating from him, but it’s obscured by the memory of the darkness ill-concealed in his emerald eyes, the anger; the malice. His hand around your neck, relentless, and the smear of crimson blood on the floor. Who knows what he would have done if Sam hadn’t been there to drag him off?

You don’t realise the tears are streaming down your face until they obscure your vision completely. Through the kaleidoscope blur of your sight you see Dean retreating, nearly running from the room. It’s a long moment before you lower the gun, sinking down until your knees are against your chest and you’re curled against the unit, the microwave beeping distantly in the background.

***

“Y/N?” You heard Sam coming from a mile off – you’re almost entirely sure he exaggerated his footfalls just to make sure you did. For a man of his height, he moves incredibly quietly.

You roll over, slowly sitting up, “If you’re here to get me to talk to Dean-“

“I’m not.” He says, slowly closing the door behind him. He sits on the bed beside you, “He told me what happened.”

“Oh.” Is the only reply you can muster. There isn’t much else to say. Sam smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders affectionately – if there’s one thing you can always count on the younger Winchester for, it’s a bit of brotherly love.

“He does feel awful, Y/N. You know what he’s like. Even if you decide to forgive him, I doubt he’ll ever forgive himself – not to make you feel guilty. You know that’s not what this is about.” He says softly. You nod, knowing what he says is bound to be right.

“I know.” You affirm, taking a deep breath.

“And we will get this off of him. I promise. No matter what it takes.” He assures you, “But, if in the meantime, you want to go somewhere else, we won’t be offended or upset. I’ll understand completely and so will Dean.”

You can only stare at him, “I’m not going anywhere.” You insist, “This is your mess and his mess and my mess. I’m not running away from that. No matter what.”  

He smiles, “I figured you’d say that. But we accept that you’re hurting and if you need time away-“

You shake your head vehemently, ignoring the pain it sends through your neck, “Absolutely not.”

“That’s my girl,” Sam kisses your head affectionately, “Listen, I just… I mostly wanted to tell you that Dean is sorry. He’d tell you himself but he thinks he’s going to make it worse. And he’s nothing to be scared of – just… maybe we shouldn’t leave him alone from now on. I think that might be a trigger, you know?”

You nod, “You’re probably right. We’ll keep an eye on him.” You sigh, running your fingers through your hair, “Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem.” He squeezes you once more and stands up, “We’re going to watch a film in my room later. You’re more than welcome to join, as always – there’ll be snacks.”

You can’t help but smile, nodding, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

There’s no denying that Sam’s words helped, but it’s still incredibly difficult to force yourself through his bedroom door. You hesitate at least three times before mentally slapping yourself and pushing it open, fixing a smile onto your face as you head inside.

“Y/N,” Dean stands up as soon as he sees you, his eyes widening in surprise – he hadn’t expected you to come. You crack a small smile, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I didn’t want to miss movie night.” You say softly. Dean approaches you – Sam watches warily, but when you don’t flinch or back off he smile a little, pretending not to watch the exchange.

“Shit, Y/N, your face,” He whispers, “I’m so-“

“I know.” You interrupt him, “I know you are. But you don’t need to be, Dean.” You say earnestly, reaching out and touching his shoulder, “The past few months have been hard on all of us – you more than anyone. I know that wasn’t you.”

He’s about to protest, but before he can say anything you move forward, wrapping your arms around his middle. He hesitates, but melts into the embrace and wraps his arms tightly around you, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers, the words quiet enough that Sam can’t hear them, “I love you so much. I swear, Y/N, we’ll fix this.”

You smile, looking up at him, “We will. Because we always do.” You lift onto your tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, “I love you, too.”

Sam chooses that moment to couch pointedly, raising an eyebrow at the two of you. You share a laugh and Dean lifts you up, sitting down on the couch and setting you in his lap, his arms remaining around your waist. You settle into him, your head resting on his shoulder comfortably.

He’s warm and comfortable, and even if it’s just for a few hours, everything feels like it should.

Do Your Worst

Prompt: Hi! I love your fanfics! I was wondering if you could do a request I have? Basically (Y/N) and Dean have been in a relationship for a long time but it started to get harder when he got the Mark of Cain so I was thinking maybe (Y/N) is the only one who can calm him down after holding the knife and she tells him to take his anger out on her(in bed) and not use the knife to feel pleasure? Rough, rough smut ending w/ cuddle Sorry if this didn’t make sense hope you can do it. Thank you! <3

Word Count: 2,408
Rating: Explicit/Mature
Pairing: Dean/Reader
Warnings: Rough sex, a bit of bondage, spanking
Author’s Note: I really enjoyed writing this! Thanks for your idea and I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things were changing, more so than usual. You could deal with the apocalypse, you could deal with Lucifer and all of these angels but what you couldn’t deal with was Dean’s new anger that had been taken on when he got the mark of Cain seared in his flesh and the first blade. He was angry all the time and his outlet was killing and drinking.

Things were worse now and you had no idea what you could do. Sam and him spoke but it was always tense conversation. You woke up in the morning with Dean gone even though he laid down next to you that night and you had a feeling he waited until you were sleep so he could go back to the kitchen and drink. With a sigh you got up off the bed and got dressed for the day and when you entered the library before going into the kitchen you saw him there. Books opened on various pages and empty liquor bottles atop the table.

You two caught each others eyes before you just sighed and turned making your way to the kitchen with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You didn’t even have an appetite anymore so you sat at the small kitchen table with your head in your hands until Sam came in.

“Hey, Sammy, you hungry? I was thinking about making some of my special pancakes.” You said getting up and going to the cupboard to pull things out trying to cover up the fact that you were a few seconds from sobbing.

“Hey, (Y/N), come here.” He coaxed gently pulling you to him to engulf you in a tight hug. You went willingly needing some comfort and wrapped your arms around his waist burying your face in his shirt and immediately you began crying.

“I don’t know what to do, he’s just so angry all of the time, I don’t know if we’re going to get out of this one Sam.” the flow of your tears slowing as you looked up at him.

“We will, (Y/N), once Abbadon is dead it’ll be over.”

“No, Sam, I don’t think you understand, he’s obsessed with this thing, he’s not going to just give up the blade right after, you know your brother.”

Not even two days later you all got the call from Crowley with the location you needed to be. Dean had you all split up wanting to scope the place out first in case it was a trap but when you realized there were no other demons you ran in the direction Dean went in. You should have knew he was lying, he went to go kill Abbadon alone.

“Sam!” You yelled when you saw him running into the building “Dean was lying.”

“I know, come on.” You both needed to get to the top floor quickly before Dean got himself killed.

“Stairs!” You pointed out running.

If Dean wasn’t already dead you were going to kill him!

“I can’t get the door open!” You said pushing on the door where all the commotion was coming from.

“Together!” Sam said and you both pushed getting the door open just enough so you two could slip in.

You walked in right when the first blade was thrust into Abbadon, she lifted off the ground screaming in rage and pain, bright light streaming through her until finally Dean pulled the blade from her. She fell to the ground lifeless but Dean followed after her and in a rage began continuously punching and stabbing the body.

“Dean!” Sam yelled

You ran over to Dean quickly before Sam could stop you “Dean!” Your hand touched his face and he looked at you. The anger and hate evident on his face.

“Stop, she gone, she’s dead.” You looked into his eyes and when he realized it was you he immediately dropped the blade. You sighed in relief and hugged him to you hoping he would be able to calm down more.

“Would someone mind taking this bullet out of me?” Crowley’s voice sounded and you rolled your eyes ignoring him.

“Come on, let’s get you clean.” You spoke softly and coaxed Dean up, you grabbed the blade knowing he would look for it and you both made way to what seemed like a bathroom. You were glad it was as you opened the door and closed it behind both of you.

Dean washed most of the blood from his hands before you had him sit down so you could clean his face off, the blood had gotten everywhere but you were nowhere near as squeamish as you used to be. You gently wiped his face and both of you kept quiet not knowing exactly what to say. You knew Dean was ashamed of the way he had gotten out of control but you didn’t think of him any differently.

“Why are you still with me?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth and you looked confused at the question.

“I’ve put you through hell, the first time you met me you should have run.”

“Well, I guess you were just too addictive.” You tried joking as you got the last bit of blood off his face. You threw the cloth down near the sink and he grabbed your hands looking up at you.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, babe.” You give him a small smile with a light kiss to his head.

“No. I mean, thank you for everything. You know, you’re the only person who can calm me down after holding that thing even if I’m just angry about something all I have to do is see your face or hear your voice and I’m better.” The look he was giving you was one of gratefulness and it made your heart swell. You loved this man so much.

“And that is why I’ll always be here for you.” You pressed your lips to his, his hands found their way into your hair as he kissed back and clung to you as if you were the only thing anchoring him to the ground.

“I love you.” He whispered after parting your lips. His declaration caught you by surprise, he was never the one to say it first.

“I love you, too.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sure enough after Abbadon was killed Dean refused to give up the blade even though he was even more angrier and violent than usual. You decided that you were going to do something about that, he needed an outlet for it and you wanted it to be you.

“Dean, you have to let all this anger out somehow and using the blade and killing demons is not going to help it!” You yelled trying to get him to listen.

“Well, what would you prefer me to do, (Y/N), just sit here angry? I might hurt Sam and God forbid, you!" 

"I want you to take it out on me, Dean in the best way you know how.”

“What?” He asked looking at me in confusion.

“I want you to get all that anger out, throw me against the wall, to the floor, fuck all of that anger out, Dean, screw me until I’m crying, it’s a way to get it all out.”

"What if I really hurt you?" 

"You won’t.” You spoke, so sure of your words.

“You have that much trust? You shouldn’t.” He said harshly walking away from you.

Your first attempt was a failure but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try again.

“Damn it, Dean, listen to me.” You yelled trying to get his attention, during another hunt he had pulled out the first blade and used it, he wasn’t even supposed to have it with him.

“Leave me alone, (Y/N)!” His voice rough with anger and frustration.

“No!” You grabbed him and by some miracle was able to push him hard against the wall. Both of you stared each other down breathing hard until Dean caught you off guard with how quick he was, pushing you against the wall hard and crashing his lips into yours.

You only had a moment to be surprised and happy to have him going with this before he was pulling you roughly down the hall to your shared bedroom. He slammed the door behind you pushing you against it, chest heaving.

“Come on, Dean, do your worst.” Your breath taken away by the smoldering look he’s giving you, his eyes darkened from the anger, lust, frustration and desire he has. He picks you up and literally drops you down on the bed.

“Strip.” His rough voice commands and you do it without hesitation getting to your panties when he says stop.

“You’re so fucking stubborn but if you want this so bad then this is what you’ll get.” His voiced in a threatening manner flipping you over and making you get up on your hands and knees. His large, calloused hand made contact with your ass making you yelp as you were caught by surprise. The second time he struck you were prepared but the sting of the contact made you hiss.

His hits came again and again until you were sure your ass was bright red and your pussy was throbbing, you wanted him to touch you.

“Dean…” You moaned out and he laughed.

“Are you wet, you’re such a naughty girl, you love when I spank you?" 

"Yes, I do, I love it so much.” You moaned

His hand slid into your hair and he yanked you up by your roots quickly, your back touched his firm chest and his other hand ripped away your panties tearing them to shreds and when the cool air touched your hot core you gasped.

“Dean…fuck me.” You pleaded

“All in due time, baby, but I’m going to have some fun with you.” He whispers in your ear with a husky voice and you shiver in anticipation. You were excited to know what he had planned but you also wanted him in you right then and there.

Before you knew it Dean had you on your back again as he went to get something from his bag and coming back. You looked to see what it was and when you did you moaned, his ties, he was going to tie you up.

“Be a good girl, arms up.” You did as he said and he tied them around your wrists and to the headboard.

He stripped himself of his clothing quickly and was over top of you kissing and biting at your heated flesh, leaving bite marks on your skin, claiming you as his.

“You’re dripping (Y/N), should I take care of that?" 

"Please, please touch me, Dean, please!” You almost cried as the throbbing in your loins grew worse.

He smirked letting out a quick laugh and thrust his fingers into you roughly having you yell and arch your back. His thumb came up and pressed against your clit. You were going to come to your end at any second, you felt it building and building and when you were right at the edge about to fall off he yanked his fingers out.

“Come.” He growled and without him touching you, you did, pulling at the ties as your body shook, a slew of nonsense words passing your lips.

He allowed you a minute to calm down before you felt his hard cock rubbing against your folds collecting your juices, lubing him. Without warning he slammed into you, his hand gripping you hips tightly and you screamed as your walls contracted around him not yet fully calmed after your first orgasm. You pulled at the ties again wanting to have him to hold on but it was a lost cause so you took to wrapping your legs around him as he thrust into you sharply.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back as you felt another orgasm coming.

“Look at me!” He demanded panting above you.

The moment you looked at him he gave a particularly hard thrust into you and you were cumming again. Your scream coming out choked and your legs shaking.

“Oh shit!” Dean groaned stopping his thrusting but you were on cloud nine your second orgasm taking a lot out of you. Your arms were starting to lose feeling from the ties and you were moving your hands trying to gain some blood flow.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Dean spoke breathlessly and it was then that you realized he hadn’t come yet. His cock slipped out of you still hard as ever and glistening with your combined juices 

He reached up and untied you but you had no time to recuperate before he flipped you over and brought you to your hands and knees. He gave no warning and slipped back into your core with a groan from both of you. He was going at a relentless pace again, his pelvis hitting your sore bottom with every thrust.

“Dean, oh, f-fuck.” You stuttered as another orgasm began building, you didn’t think it would be possible for you to come again but this glorious man was going to prove you wrong. His thrusts were getting sloppier and your felt his cock growing harder and you knew he was so close as were you. With only a few more thrust he exploded inside you giving you spurt after spurt of his hot cum and this triggered your third and final orgasm.

A high pitched scream echoing around the room along with his deep groans as you both road your orgasms out. He stopped moving and you collapsed on the bed, your limbs now feeling like jello. He slid out of you gently and kissed up your back.

“Are you okay, sweetheart, I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asked gently bringing you into his arms pressing tender kisses to any piece of skin he could reach.

“Yeah you did but in a good way, a very good way.” You smiled lazily up at him and he pressed a kiss to your forehead hugging you closer.

“How’s the anger?" 

"It’s gone, thank you baby, you always know what to do.”

“If it comes back we can always do this again.” You drawled beginning to drift off.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sweetheart.” He laughed pressing another kiss to you and you both slipped into a deep sleep, fully satisfied and tangled up with each other.

"Imagine Sam finding out you sold your soul to save him" One Shot

Author: nature-minded

Original Imagine: Imagine Sam finding out you sold your soul to save him.

Warnings: none

Word count: 585

Fic:

A/N: Anonymous asked me to write this one shot, so I did. :)

“Boys, boys… and miss. I thought you had a little dignity,” said Crowley.

He was trapped in the devil’s trap as you called him out.

“Well, as you can see, we don’t,” you answered, a smirk on your face.

Keep reading

5

One day, when it’s all over and Abbadon and Metatron are both dead, Cain and Dean have a beer together. Cain was right all along. They were so much alike and became closer than Dean and his own father had been in his youth. In the end, that old demon knows more about Dean than his own family. But then again, they are family–that hunter being a descendant of that demon. They never talk about it though.

“You better make that angel yours ‘fore it’s too late,” Cain advises casually and out-of-the-blue over a couple of beers.

Dean eyes him sideways. “You know?”

“Boy, everybody knows,” he says. “I wasted years thinkin’ Colette deserved better, deserved freedom, but all I did was make us miserable. By the time we finally–” Cain breaks off, unable to finish, and even unable to look Dean in the eye. Finally, he continues, “Don’t sit around wastin’ your life wallowin’ in self-pity when you’ve got forgiveness in that angel the way I had forgiveness in my lady.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, not used to so much scrutiny. Accurate scrutiny at that. “You still miss her, huh? After all this time?”

“You’re never gonna get over it if that’s what you’re askin’.” With those words, Cain throws back half the bottle in one swallow.

Dean knows deep down that nobody will come close to understanding the impasse in his life the way Cain does. And as he remembers each time he watched Castiel die, just the way Cain watched Colette die, he feels utterly gutted. He swallows more of his own beer there on Cain’s back porch, thinking.

Months from that conversation, another occupant has moved into Dean’s room. He never sleeps and usually whines about missing how food tastes, often forcing Dean to describe the taste of cereal in flowery language, but Dean has never been happier. For once, he doesn’t hate himself. He begins to understand Sam on a deeper level as well, leading to brotherly encouragement rather than oppression.

The idea came to Dean in a dream. Suddenly, he knows how to make it right–to right an evil that he wasn’t even born yet to stop, but that he could now because he has Castiel.

His angel has the power to bend time. Together, they punch a hole through the cosmic fabric and force their way through to the Civil War, charging ahead in a battle of their own. Sam remained behind, ready and willing with medical supplies should something happen on the way back to the present.

Together Dean, Castiel, and Cain fought like lions against the Knights of Hell. They fought for Colette, to keep her from knowing the pain of possession and a violent death. In the end, it was Dean himself who grabbed her and leaped through the cabin window before the Knights could reach her. Flash after flash of red glowing light extinguished the evil as Cain and Castiel wiped the earth clean of the diabolical.

And that was the story of how a high school dropout, a retired demon, and an angel rescued the most forgiving flower of Mississippi and gave her back to the love of her existence. Love in its purest form doesn’t care if you’re a human, a demon, or an angel. It cares nothing for the constraints of time. It is, Dean finally understands, the only thing worth fighting for.

East European Comic Con - Mark Sheppard Panel

Fan: Do you think the alliance between Crowley and Abbadon could have worked?
Mark: Haha, too late, she’s dead.

-

*Abbadon cosplay comes to ask question*
Mark: Here comes the angriest ginger ever. You do know she’s dead, right?

-

Fan: If you were to play another character in Superna…
Mark: No.
Fan: You wouldn’t like to play someone else, a demon, an angel?
Mark: NO! I mean, have you seen this show? It’s The Crowley Show now, what reason could I have?!

-

Fan: What monster from Doctor Who would you like the Winchesters to beat?
*audience cheers*
Mark: Rule 568! Don’t cross the fandoms! Really, don’t cross the fandoms! But I did try to put Jared in a TARDIS at a convention and I didn’t make it, he was just to huge. The TARDIS got defeated. 

-

Fan: (…): I just want your opinion.
Mark: Haha, yeah, like I’m gonna give it to you.

HE IS A DARLING!

Talking him down from the ledge - Dark!Dean, the Mark of Cain, and what might happen in the season finale

I felt really inspired to write about Dean and the season finale, so I here I am! I didn’t read much of meta already out there because I tend to let them influence me and I wanted to be unbiased for this. 

This will be long-ish… but I’ve brought illustrations :) (there’s also a summary at the end, if you’re in a hurry but still interested!)

Keep reading

american-beautee  asked:

Cas studied Dean, paying most of his attention to the mark on his arm. "Are we going to talk about it?" He raised an eyebrow. Abbadon was dead. There was no longer a need for it. They should be finding ways to free him of that mark, not ignoring the problem. If Dean didn't get rid of it soon.. There might not be much of Dean left to save.. ((Gahh I hope this is okay.. :/ ))

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled his arm away from Cas ignoring how his skinned tingled where the angel touched him. “There’s nothing to talk about” he says not looking at Castiel and rubbing the mark with his thumb. It might come in handy having it. He could kill anything with that sword and the mark. After a moment of silence, Dean finally turns his eyes to meet Cas’s piercing blue gaze. ((It’s fine :3 ))