dusty reads

Feelings - Castiel x Reader Request

Request: Hi there. While looking at your master list, I couldn’t help but notice there was no Cas. May I request one? flirty!Dean and CasxReader in which Cas is trying to figure out why the flirty (but innocent) relationship between Dean and Reader bothers him. 

A/N: Somehow this is over 1000 words I’m sorry omg 

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Dreamy star sign aesthetics
  • Aries: fireflies emanating a warm soft glow, intricate golden jewelry boxes lined with velvet, sparkling rubies
  • Taurus: a bouquet of foxgloves violets and daisies, pollen illuminated by the gentle sunlight, turkish delights
  • Gemini: carpets of snowdrops and bluebells dancing in the breeze, soft rosy cheeks, a string of exquisite pearls
  • Cancer: sleeping in on rainy days, rose scented parchment, picnics by the river's edge where willows grow
  • Leo: marigolds basking in the golden sunlight, fiery red hair tied back with ribbon, reading dusty old tomes by candlelight
  • Virgo: collecting buttercups in a straw basket, delicate fairy wings, a golden crown adorned with opalescent gemstones
  • Libra: a glistening drop of dew falling from a rose petal, silk hooded capes, a silver necklace encrusted with emeralds
  • Scorpio: the bright stars reflecting on a still pond, a silver treasure chest filled with pearls and a magical spyglass, a lock of golden hair tucked into a small envelope
  • Sagittarius: a mysterious rose gold locket, roasting chestnuts on a roaring fire, wax sealed letters filled with secrets
  • Capricorn: a mossy glade bordered by toadstools and wildflowers, wishing on a shooting star, a crown of woodland flowers and leaves
  • Aquarius: the soft scent of violets after a sun shower, tiny envelopes filled with glitter and flower petals, a vial of fairy dust
  • Pisces: a silvery silk pouch brimming with sapphires and garnets, iridescent mermaid scales, stargazing on a chilly winter's night
Dear Journal,

Today Regulus arrived in the early morning. Sirius was waiting by the door until we heard a few knocks. He quickly opened the door and threw himself in his little brothers arms. I decided to give them some privacy so I walked downstairs to the library. I still needed to place a few books around. While looking through my own books, I found the one Johnny gave me. That sweet boy. I opened the book to the first page and read is message written in a neat handwritting. I knew these few sentences by heart.

“Dear Remus, I hope you will like this book. It made me think of us. While reading it, I felt like It was you and me. Without you, my life would’ve been different. You helped me accept who I was even though boys who like other boys are not seen in a good way sometimes. You are the big brother I never had and the one I always wished for. Thank you a thousand times. I hope you won’t forget me, because i’ll never forget you.

-Johnny. ”

I smiled to myself thinking about the little boy. At least now, no one would bully him again and he had his new boyfriend Freddie. He gave me his mom’s address so I could write to him. I picked up a pretty letter paper and started writing.

“Dear Johnny, I really miss you! I hope your summer is going well. Here, Sirius and I are doing good! Our appartement is finished and everything looks just the way I imagined it. I just found the book you gave me in my boxes! I’m going to put it on my night table by my bed so I can see it everyday and think of you. I’ve seen a few books that I think you would like so I wrote them down on a stickynote and when you’ll come and visit, I’ll have some for you! But for now, I’m sending you this letter with a book i found in a corner of my dusty library! If i read the title right, it should be the sequel to our book! I really hope you like it! I’ll see you soon!

-Remus ”

I folded the letter paper and slid it in an enveloppe. My owl flew away with the letter and the book in it’s claws. I walked upstairs and saw Sirius and Regulus on the couch, both laughing at something Regulus said. I’m glad they were happy.

“Hey Remus!” Regulus smiled.

“Hey buddy! How are you holding up?” I said, sitting behind Sirius with my legs around Him.

“Good. At least i’m with Sirius.” He smiled.

“How about we have a movie night with pizza?” I asked the two brothers.

“Didn’t we ate pizza yesterday babe?” Sirius asked.

“Who cares? I’m sure Reg wants some pizza! Do you Reg?” I asked, smiling.

“Of course I want pizza! Come on Sirius! Movie night is nothing without pizza!” Regulus laughed.

“Okay then!” Sirius smiled.

So we had another movie night with pizza. All three of us sitting on the couch. Sirius cuddled to me on one side and his brother on the other.

March 29th 1978

The Same

Childhood Bff!Verkwan

Word Count: 2494

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Angst

(A/N: Sorry about this, but the original request asked for the story to have something to do with living in Busan, but I didn’t really work that in as well as I probably should have…)


You clutched the small piece of paper tightly in your hands, the afternoon sun illuminating its dusty surface. Reading the words over a second time, you traced your finger tip across the graphite scribbles, smiling to yourself at the sentences they formed.

“(Y/N)! Meet us at the park after school on Friday! It’s the last time we’re all free to hang out before summer break! :)”

The handwriting was sloppy, thus not narrowing down the possible authors of the note. However, a tell-tale sign resided in the top corner of the piece of paper. A messy treble clef floating atop other, visibly erased treble clefs sat on the top of the page, meaning only one person could have written the note: Boo Seungkwan. That boy’s affinity for music could be seen from a mile away, and heard from at least three, since his prepubescent voice had a notable tendency to crack.

As you continued mindlessly skimming over the note, you noticed a small speck of red smeared under the message. You inferred this to be the blood of another prepubescent friend of yours; one who possessed the habit of biting his fingernails until the bled. It must’ve been Seungkwan who wrote the note and Hansol who stuck it in your locker.

They were such an unlikely duo and had such an odd dynamic, but however messy they were, they were your messes; your best friends.

You stashed the note in your locker again, flattening it under one of your many textbooks. As your incentives to get through the day multiplied, you scurried off to your next class with a newfound smile.

The school day ended quickly after that, and you found yourself searching for your usual walking buddy once more. From your position in front of the school, you heard the creak of the main doors being opened. You turned to see the person opening the doors, just in time to face Hansol and his friend Chan leisurely coming down the steps.

He acknowledged your presence with a nod, asking, “Hey, (Y/N), are you ready to go?”

“I’m ready whenever you’re done with your little date.” You replied with a jokingly snarky grin.

Chan let out a short chuckle as Hansol merely responded with the roll of his eyes. The two boys parted with some kind of special handshake at the foot of the stairs. Both you and Hansol bid goodbye to Chan with a wave afterwards, and the two of you watched him disappear into the summer haze.

Turning to Hansol, you noticed the abnormally wide smile on his face. You asked, “What’s with that grin?”

He seemed to snap out of his gaze, finally processing what you had said to him. It looked as if he was going to say something, but he cut himself off before doing so.

You teasingly added on, “Am I being replaced with him?”

Hansol laughed a sarcastic cackle in response, “Replace you? My bestest friend in the whole wide world?”

He squished his cheeks in his hands, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to be cute. This time, you were the one laughing, but genuinely, at your friend’s incredible ability to make himself look stupid.

The walk home was full of giggles as well, just as it usually was. Hansol and yourself had made it a habit of walking to and from school every day. It gave the both of you time to hang out and destress yourselves from the school day, in addition to just being convenient since you lived next door to each other.

It was true, ever since the last day of last year’s summer vacation, your life had never been the same. And it was all thanks to Choi Hansol. You would have never guessed that something as simple as living next door to someone could have impacted your life in such a drastic way.

He was like a one-man support group for you; helping you in school, listening to your problems, and always willing to chill if you needed a friend. You ended up spending so much time with him over the course of the school year that you became like another family member to him.

And of course, once you’ve known someone so intimately and for so long, it’s only natural to feel an icy shock when you find out that they have another best friend. But Hansol’s friend was so warm when you finally met him, that he singlehandedly managed to thaw you out from your state of shock. He embraced you like the sun’s rays to a lone icicle; the ice melting slowly until its cold is utterly replaced by warmth and light.

Hansol’s friend was none other than Boo Seungkwan.

Seungkwan was like the sun to Hansol’s moon. Indeed, they did seem like inverses of each other at first. But in reality, they were more like yin and yang: complete opposites of one another, but, each possessing a small bit of the other.

Seungkwan had a sunny disposition, and he had it all the time. However, both you and Hansol learned quickly, if one ever got too comfortable around him, they would be practically asking for a friendly jeer.

Hansol liked to make people think he was cold. He was shy anyway, so he simply played off his natural distaste for social interaction to make himself appear completely unapproachable. But, once he opened himself up to someone, he’d allow himself to be completely vulnerable, finally letting the sun within to shine through.

Seungkwan was a master at cracking Hansol’s locks. That was why you bonded so quickly with him, and it’s one of the reasons why your friendship lasted.

Now, it was almost the end of the school year. It was the second school year you’d spent in Hansol and Seungkwan’s school, and you prayed to every deity imaginable that it wouldn’t be the last. But, like a tree falling in an empty forest, some sounds can go unheard. Some prayers can go unanswered.

After you and Hansol went your separate ways in the hallway of the apartment building, you walked through the front door of your family’s apartment. You weren’t anticipating anything out of the ordinary to happen, which is why you were caught so off guard when your mother appeared in the living room, and the first thing she said to you was,

“Honey, we’re moving to London over the summer.”

Your expression immediately dropped, along with your backpack from your shoulder. The loud thump of your school supplies hitting the floor pulled you out of the dark spiral of dread that was starting to engulf you.

“We’re… Moving?” You repeated, hoping that your mother was just playing some kind of joke on you.

Instead of giving you the answer you wanted, she simply nodded, her expression just as melancholy as yours. Without saying another word, she walked out of the room, leaving you to contemplate the situation alone.

But on the contrary, not much contemplation ended up happening. You simply decided to go about the rest of the week like you normally would, hoping that somehow your mother would change her mind, or possibly that you were just dreaming.

However, you woke up the next day knowing that it wasn’t a dream. This was real, and there was only one day left before the school year came to an end. One day left before your friendship with Seungkwan and Hansol came to an end. But, you decided not to think see it through such bleak lenses. You decided to pretend everything was okay and wait until the very last second, until Friday at the park, to tell your best friends.

The rhythmic drumming of Hansol’s hand on the front door signaled that it was time to leave for school. You rushed to greet him, opening the door before he was finished knocking his pattern, thus causing his knuckles to nearly hit you in the face.

“Woah,” He began, “You almost let me punch you in the face. What’s the rush, (Y/N)? Are you suddenly excited to go to school?”

You laughed at his witty commentary, more than you would have if you hadn’t found out that you’d probably never see him again within two weeks.

“Are you okay?” He asked as you closed the door and started forward on the route to school.

“I’m fine,” You replied, your expression still worrisome to Hansol as it was particularly happy, “I’m just looking forward to tomorrow.”

“Oh, you mean our date with Seungkwan at the park?”

You chuckled at the fact that he used the term “date” so loosely. Hansol of all people. The kid who simply runs away whenever someone tries to confess to him.

“Yeah,” You answered, “I’m really excited to just take it easy and have fun this summer.”

“But consider this: are things ever relaxed with Boo Seungkwan? We’re talking about the kid who will literally sing back any relatively pitched sound.”

“I guess you have a point there. But he’s funny too.”

“Yeah. Funny looking.”

Once you arrived at school, you and Hansol split off to go to your respective classes. You weren’t in his class, but you were in Seungkwan’s, who always managed to brighten up any dull day.

There were a few minutes to spare before class started, so you plopped down in your seat and made yourself comfortable. Seungkwan strolled in after you, taking the seat next to yours.

“So, how is my bestest friend doing today?” He asked casually, but placing a cute emphasis on the word “bestest”.

“A lot worse as of now since you called me that.” You responded, playing angry by folding your arms and frowning.

“What? Can’t I make up a nickname for you?”

“Not when Hansol literally called me the same thing yesterday.”

“Hah! Oh, great minds think alike, you know.”

Unfortunately, your intellectual conversation with Seungkwan was cut short by the school bell. The teacher stood up for her desk and started teaching, and the rest of the day flew by like any other.

Finally, the big day came. It was Friday. The school day seemed to sprint out of your grasp, and as you wondered where it all went, your thought process was interrupted by something else that had you even more confused.

You came through the front door of your apartment, ready to throw down your backpack and rush to the park to meet Hansol and Seungkwan, but the couch that you would have thrown it onto was gone. The living room was completely empty.

Noting a faint sound in the corner of the room, you turned to find your mother stuffing something into a cardboard box.

“Mom?” You called out.

She stopped what she was doing to answer you, “Oh, (Y/N), you’re home.”

“Where’s all our furniture? All our stuff?”

“The movers took it all away. Honey, we have to go today. The flight would’ve been too expensive if we booked it for next month. I know it’s sudden, but we have to go.”

“We’re leaving right now?”

“I’m afraid so. The movers already packed up everything in your room, so let me just finish packing this box, then we’ll go.”

Your shoulders sunk and your face was sullen; an accurate representation of how you felt on the inside too. For the last time, you walked out the door of the apartment, leaving it, Seungkwan, and Hansol behind.

End Flashback

“(Y/N)!” You heard.

You came out of your trance to find your friend standing before you, waving her hands in front of your face.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine.” You replied.

“Good, because we’re next.”

You looked around at your surroundings, it was indeed the same hall she’d taken you to earlier in the day, and you were indeed still there. You remembered the small piece of paper in your hand. Holding it up to your eyes, you peered at the face in the photo again.

How could one face have brought back so many memories?

“Hey,” You began, nudging your friend’s shoulder, “What was this guy’s name again?”

Your friend couldn’t make time to answer. Instead, she was cut off by a shrill voice that shouted, “Next fan!”

Your friend grabbed you lightly by the elbow, allowing you to follow her to the long table, at which thirteen boys sat. Each of them were busy either talking to a fan, talking to staff, or signing something for a fan. Each of them except the one sitting on the end. He was sat patiently awaiting you and your friend to approach him.

“Hello!” Your friend greeted, cheerfully.

“Hi there!” The boy responded, in perfect English.

You said nothing and simply bowed to him as a gesture of respect. You expected a bow back, or at least a wave, but the boy did neither. He just stared at you, studying your face. After a while, he seemed to snap himself out of it and hurriedly scribbled something on your friend’s CD. She had also given him an index card with a multiple choice question on it, something she heard was quite common for fans to give to idols at fansigns. He hastily wrote something on that too, and handed it back to her with a smile.

As you and your friend were pushed along the line of good-looking boys, none of them really caught your attention like the first one, with the exception of the very last boy. He sat on the opposite end of the table as the boy who stared at you. Though, he ended up staring at you too.

He quickly finished signing your friend’s CD and answering her multiple choice question, and still had time to spare to chat with her for a moment. Although, as her conversed with her, his gaze never seemed to leave you. For a while, it looked as if he wanted to say something to you too, but you and your friend were forced off the line before he could.

When the fansign was over, you and your friend left the venue together, peaking at the questions that the boys answered. As the both of you flipped through them, everything looked normal, but the first index card had an extra little note on it.

“(Y/N)! Is that really you? Let’s finally have that date with Seungkwan, okay? We’ll be here all day, so wait for us in the venue at 9! :)”

“What is this, (Y/N)? Do you know Vernon?”

You found yourself ignoring your friend’s question, as you had your own question which desperately needed to be answered. Nearly tearing the pile of index cards out of her hand, you looked through them all, in search of the index card from the last boy.

Sure enough, it had the same treble clef drawn in the corner. And sure enough, you still had the same best friends from childhood.

-Written by Admin Cali


03x10 “Dream A Little Dream of Me”
10x03 “Soul Survivor”

On the Differences and Similarities between Dean’s Vision of His Demonic Self in Season 3 and Becoming A Demon in Season 10

This set was kind of sparked by this ask on John Winchester and how his failure in parenting affects Dean to this day. To me it will always be fascinating how the show did very consistently make the big theme of the confrontation between Dean and his demonic version in 3x10 “Dream A Little Dream of Me” not just an important but integral part of the entire MoC arc and particularly Dean’s behaviour while being a demon.

In season 3 Dean’s demonic version verbalizes the things Dean has heard thrown at him in belittling and critizing ways, things he deep down may have thought himself even and it’s his demonic version pushing and prodding long enough for Dean himself openly recognize and express how much he resents what his father did to him and how massively his way of parenting messed him up. Dean acknowledges a lot of his father’s wrongdoings in that episode and while I think it was extremely important for Dean to scream all these things off his chest, it remains kind of infuriating that he screams these things at himself - his demonic version yes, but still himself (effectively literally physically taking things out on himself that someone else should have had to answer for) - and not the person who should have heard it: his father as he was to a great extent the one pushing the brothers into the co-dependency they are caught in even in their 30s still.

What will always be one of my absolute favourite traits of Demon!Dean of season 10 however is that in contrast to the demonic version we saw of him in the episode in season 3, he wasn’t truly sinister. Sure, he enjoyed his bar fights, enjoyed putting his finger into open wounds and confronting people with brutal honesty, but ultimately he was just living it up and really not a threat unless you got on the wrong side of things with him. Of course we never got to know if Demon!Dean would have become much more dangerous if he hadn’t killed repeatedly, but for what we saw of him and just taking this into consideration, I think Dean as a demon handled the mark and its powers far better than as a human (which I suppose makes sense given that Crowley even said in 9x23 “Do You Believe in Miracles” that Cain was a demon and his body was therefore better equipped to handle and contain the mark’s powers). Mostly he was seeking out bliss, was freed from feeling responsibility. Being a demon liberated him, made him do what he denied himself for almost all his life. For the first time he really did only what he wanted to do and that happened to be getting drunk, singing karaoke and having a good time - and also putting douchebags in their place who seem to have treated their girlfriends badly. Which leads me to once more talking about Demon!Dean and the Darkness.

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Stir Crazy

Anon: Please can you write a fanfic about an overprotective Castiel or Gabriel , they are protecting Dean and Sam’s little sister the universal prophet

Okay, this is heavily influenced by the facts that 1) I was watching Moana clips last night and 2) I live where it’s very cold and I don’t like cold that much. So, to the Nonnie who asked, I hope that this works for you! Like always, feel free to send me any suggestions, tagging requests, and whatnot.

Summary: Reader, the Winchester’s sister, is a prophetess who is still learning from the angels charged with protecting her: Castiel and Gabriel. She is going absolutely mad from cabin fever.

Warnings: Fluff (NOTE: I tried to make the relationship between the reader and Gabriel platonic, not romantic.)

Tags: @winchesters-favorite-girl @the-third-winchester-warrior @jensen-jarpad @sister-winchester-imagines

An ancient television set in the corner of the room flickers to life as you mess around with the knobs. For the three-billionth time. You pace around the motel room, bored completely out of your mind. The research books that Cas had provided supplied nothing for your curious mind and you couldn’t catch any type of signal on the black and white tv. Your phone and anything electronic was currently off limits in case anyone tried to trace the signal back to you. Could you understand why the ‘house arrest’ was necessary? Yes. Could you deal with it? Not in a thousand apocalypses.

You sigh as you lie back down on a rickety bed and kick off your boots. The springs squeak gently as you lower yourself onto it. Cas promised that he wouldn’t be gone for long. Just enough to make sure that everything was okay with your brothers Sam and Dean. You look at your watch. Well, apparently over an hour qualified for the ‘long enough’ category. You pick up a mythology book and stare at the text. You the open book fall on your face.

“Why me?” you say exasperatedly. Course, with the pages on your face, it probably sounded like, “Fmrhmph mphhhh!”

You hear a flutter of wings; your adrenaline spikes. Under the musty pillow, your fingers curl around the knife you hid. You take the book off your face, almost welcoming a battle to happen. As soon as you see who has entered your room though, you disappointedly let the knife go.

“I have returned, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I can see that Cas. How’s life at the bunker?”

“Sam and Dean are fine. They are actually doing some work on a vampire case in Tennessee currently.”

You jump off the bed. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go chop some heads and let blood fly!”

Cas looks at you with a mixture of concern and disgust. “Why would you get excited at the prospect of decapitation?”

“My bros need me. You know it’s not safe if they go take care of stuff on their own! C’mon Cas! Please let me go with them! Just this once?”

The angel shakes his head. “Allowing you to go on a dangerous hunt would be violating protocol.” You throw your hands up in the air and begin to pace the room. Again. Cas tries to console you. “If anything happen to you, your brothers would kill me. I have been charged with protecting you.”

“You’re not the only one who’s supposed to be watching our girl.” A sly voice pops into the conversation. You hide a small smile from Castiel as your buddy the archangel appears in the room. “Afterall, it’s not like she’s jonesing around doing all kinds of immoral stuff, right?” Gabriel winks at you.

“Shut up, Gabe,” you smirk.

He puts his hands to his heart sarcastically. “I am offended! Here I am, coming to bestow upon you a treasure for which I have searched far and wide to discover and you treat me like a simple peasant!”

“What treasure? Tell me!”

Gabriel makes a zipping motion across his lips. “Mmh-mm.”

“C’mon! Please!”

Cas sighs in the corner. “Theatrics…” he mutters disdainfully.

“Is that the way this is going to be? Fine then.” You grin as you get into medieval character. “My most humble apologies to the guardian of my honor, a knight of the highest chivalry, the protector of-”

“All right, all right. You’re milking it now.” He grins and tosses something to you.

“Finally! Something besides rabbit food!” You crack a real smile as you tear vigorously shred the wrapper off a Three Musketeers bar. “Cas over here doesn’t seem to understand the importance of chocolate in a daily diet,” you gesture to the sullen angel in the corner with your prize.

“I promised your brothers to keep you safe and in good health. There is nothing healthy at all about candy.”

Gabe raises an eyebrow teasingly. “What are you now, Doctor Dismal? Even the Aztecs knew the importance of chocolate during the day. Let the kid have some fun!”

“She’s more than a child, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know. The Universal Prophetess Supreme!” He makes jazz hands on the last words. Gabriel turns to address you. “So, what’s all this about still being on house arrest?”

You shrug. “Dean and Sam are on hunt without me and I’m done with these books. Again. I guess I’m just…stir crazy.”

“All right then.” Gabriel turns to his angelic brother. “Cas, I’m taking her out for a one-on-one archangel/prophet training session at the library. I’ll keep in touch.”

You groan on the bed, but Castiel nods. “Very well. You have been here for some time. It would not hurt to take training to another location.”

“Great. More dusty scroll reading! Just what I need!” You gripe sarcastically. Gabe puts a hand on your shoulder before you can protest anything else. You blink as the archangel teleports you away. You expect the little library smells and sounds. Minor talking in the background, turning pages perfuming the air with that “old book” smell, pencils scratching on paper, and creaking of shelves being passed.

Originally posted by suzievibe

Instead, you smell the beautiful combination of dead fish and salt spray. You hear gulls crying and gentle waves slapping against the side of a sandy shore. Your toes sink into petite grains of sand. Sunlight beams down on your face and heavy hunting clothing. The sky is radiantly blue against an even bluer ocean. Tinted sea foam rolls onto the ground next to your feet. You turn around in absolute amazement. While the view you first saw was all blue, behind you is various shades of green so bright and vivid, you pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.


“Ahem.” Beside you a little ways sits your guardian angel, sipping on a soda can under a cabana umbrella. In a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. He smiles and points to the waves. “Aren’t you gonna jump in?”

“I-I-I’m not dressed…”

“Psh. That’s what you’re worried about?” He snaps his fingers. No longer in jeans and flannel, you’re in a cherry one piece swimsuit decorated with white dolphins and small hibiscus flower outlines. A simple turquoise wrap skirt is knotted around your waist. “How about now?”

The child inside you leaps for joy. You rush towards water, your bare feet slapping the damp sand. You rush into the salty waves and dive. You shake your wet hair out of your face when you come up. You laugh blissfully, splashing and swimming in the glorious tropical ocean.

“Best! Research! EVER!” You cannot contain your happiness.

Gabriel smiles at your laughter, allowing for some pride to swell in his heart for his young friend. After a while, he pulls out a beach towel from thin air that matches your wrap skirt. You haul your soaking wet self out of the water. You sit down by your friend.

“Does that satisfy your stir craziness, Miss Prophetess?”

You grin and roll your eyes at the teasing name he gave you. “Thanks Gabe. I needed this today, especially after that hideous weekend studying ancient writing forever.”

“Don’t mention it kid,” he states waving his hand dismissively. “You looked like you needed some sunshine.”

“So, where are we then?”

“Some island I found in the Bermuda Triangle. I call this place ‘Gabriel’s Ultimate Island of Food, Happiness, and Hakuna Matata’,” he pauses as you laugh. “But, I think you might enjoy it as somewhere to study. Become a prophetess.”

You stare surprised. “Really? You’re serious?”

Gabriel nods. “There’s a cabin up there on the other side of that bend. Cas and I would come here to help you instead of cooping you up in some ratty motel. Plus, it’s pretty much unapproachable by anything evil ever since I set up the warding line in the reef. And man has yet to invent something to get past this angel power shielding the island.” He raises an eyebrow playfully as you glance everywhere, taking every little detail in. “So. Whadda’ya say?”

“What about my brothers?”

“Dumb and Dumber? Sure, I mean, if you wanted, I could have them come check in. Don’t think their flannel culture would fit in, but, hey, that’s between them and the fish.” He points out a pod of dolphins leaping past in the distance. “Now, this ain’t all fun and games. You’d be working hard, reading texts, doing prophety…things. But would this be better?”

“Anything’s better than that motel in the middle of Iowa,” you readily reply. “I’m in. On one condition”

Gabriel shrugs. “Anything, kid.”

“I get to change the name.”

“Wow. I provide a whole island for you, complete with water slide from the room in your cabin to the ocean, and you want to change the name?”

You laugh. “Picky, aren’t I?”

“Fine, fine, you rascal. Island’s all yours. And what do you plan on calling my awesome island?”

You take a deep breath, inhaling all the tropical and nautical scents. You smile at your best friend. “Filemu.”

"If hate is poison, then love's the cure
And it’s you that drives the demons from my door
When they got me cornered, close to giving in
I feel you round me like a second skin"

- Army of Angels // The Script

Dear Readers,

You may have noticed that Witch Weekly’s tumblr postings outside of the monthly publication have been a bit sparse this month. Our staff needed a bit of a break to recharge our batteries and devote some time to the many other responsibilities we have outside of our “offices” (shocking, I know!). We are officially back for the month of July and will have some terrific new content and reports to bring to you in our August issue.

You may have also noticed that this issue has a new face on its cover—one that you may not recognize along with its famous name. When I started up the new Witch Weekly project along with my fantastic staff (I will never not shout their praises), I hadn’t heard much about the POC!Hermione movement in the fandom. Yet the more that I read on the matter over the past few months, the more I wished I would have cast our first issue’s Hermione as a woman of colour.

JK Rowling’s series that we all so adore, and which has impacted us so profoundly, is steeped in symbolism. From the wizarding wars representing the World Wars to the status of werewolves as representative of the world’s reaction to the AIDS crisis, Harry Potter represents much more than just an enthralling storyline. This is one of the reasons why the series will stand the test of time and take a solid place among the literary canon. It is great literature—even children’s literature—that speaks beyond the story, that draws parallels to our current lives and teaches us to rise above and beyond the status quo.

For this reason, we have decided to re-cast Hermione on the pages of our magazine as a black woman (specifically the talented Antonia Thomas). The story of Hermione is deliberately told by Rowling to be one of facing blatant and very old discrimination based purely on belief in the superiority of blood. The allegory of blood status to racial/ethnic relations is very obvious and, given the noted metaphor of the wizarding wars to the World Wars, even more poignant.

We chose a black British actress to grace our cover for this month in our reboot (or you could even say “retcon” if you wish) of our initial issue. Take a look around tumblr and you can see how very poignantly the idea of a black Hermione has resonated with readers, especially for those who are not white. For readers who face discrimination firsthand—from underfunded school systems, to de facto segregation, to overt racism—Hermione as a woman of colour is a shining light in popular culture. It is for this reason that I have found such profundity in taking on this headcanon for myself and in our publication.

Some people want direct textual references to base the image of their characters upon—to that I direct them to the only mention of Hermione’s skin tone in Prisoner of Azkaban as “very brown” and the well-known fact that her hair was “bushy” and “frizzy.” Some may counter that Rowling specifically mentioned the race of characters like Lee Jordan or Kingsley Shacklebolt, thus Hermione must be white if it is not mentioned. Yet herein lies an important thing for us all to learn in the ways in which we read not only fiction, but also the narration of the real world around us: whiteness is not a lack of race. In actively reading Hermione (or, say, Leanne, Katie Bell’s friend from our February issue) as a woman of colour, you widen your world and negate the effects of whitewashing.

By taking this step in fiction, it allows you to practice seeing how this plays out in real life as well. I encourage you to read some of the terrific articles out there written by women of colour and the way in which Hermione resonated with them. But also think of the ways in which your readings of texts and characters can expand by throwing aside the idea that the lack of race is whiteness. As skeletonkili on tumblr says in their imagining of POC!Hermione: “… but [think about] black Hermione[,] how she thought she left racism behind in the muggle world but whoops wizards are racist too but they don’t care about your skin it’s just your f*ckin blood…” There’s so much more to imagine in the story!

And this is what our fandom has embraced so tremendously and what we here at Witch Weekly want to live up to—transformative works of fandom and fiction. We don’t need to sit and read dusty volumes from the shelves of the Norton Anthology—we’re ready to retake our fiction and write it broader, fuller and far beyond the confines of the printed page. We would love to see Witch Weekly be a place of conversation, where we engage with the text and our ideas to do better, spread new ideas and encourage active and respectful dialogue. So while this Editor’s Letter is a bit of an explanation, it’s also a call to action for us all!

- Elsbeth Riverspell

amyinthebelljar  asked:

or how about: scott dares stiles to move everything in derek's loft one inch to the left, except for one thing, and see how long it takes for derek to notice

Derek slides open the door to the loft, steps through, and slides it closed. He lets his eyes fall shut as he takes a deep breath in, ready to be reassured of home, safety; all things his. 

Instead, his eyes snap open. “Stiles.” He states flatly to the empty room. Derek listens intently, awakening powerful senses to do so, but his loft is indeed empty.  Derek growls in annoyance, his heart rate up, teeth itching for the growth into fang. 

He takes a few, cautious steps forward into the loft. Stiles’ scent permeates the air, but does not seem concentrated in one place. Derek detects no notes of distress, fear or pain. Why the hell would Stiles be over in his loft and then leave? He wanders around, trying to get a grasp on Stiles’ movements and purpose through his scent trail, but he comes up with nothing. 

It bothers Derek for the rest of the evening. He’s restless. He can’t get comfortable. Everything is wrong. He blames Stiles, oh how he blames Stiles. He can’t breathe, ugh. All he wanted was to come home and read a dusty tomb and relax. But no. Stiles was here. And there’s just…something not right all because of- 


It winds up bothering Derek for far longer than the rest of the evening. It bothers him through the night-he can’t freaking sleep for some reason. It bothers him in the morning-having breakfast in his kitchenette, instead of grounding him, leaves him feeling wrong-footed.

He goes out for a run, when he comes back, everything is still wrong somehow. His shower leaves him feeling annoyed instead of clean and calm. 

For three days, Derek endures a rising tide of frustration and aggravation. On the third day, Derek is walking by his coffee table when he notices it. A little ring of dust on the floor. It bothers him, so he crouches down to take a closer look. There’s two rings of dust on the floor, what? Derek sniffs cautiously, but the still faintly lingering scent of Stiles throws off anything else. 

He glares at the two rings of dust, each about an inch or so away from the legs of the coffee table as if…as if…as if. 

Stiles.” Derek snarls with realization, a little bit of rage, and no small amount of vindication (he knew he wasn’t crazy, he knew things were wrong in here). With mounting fury, he checks the rest of the loft, his steps growing angrier and angrier. Everything. Every piece of furniture and spare bit of housekeeping that Derek owns has been moved 1 inch to the left.

If Derek were to measure it, it would probably be precisely 1 inch to the left because-“Stiles,” Derek finds him self breathing out into the silence of the loft once again. He finds himself sitting down on his couch, letting the shadows grow long as he contemplates…revenge.

First Derek steals the recharge cord for the controller to Stiles’ Xbox.

Then, “Hale.” The Sheriff greets him cautiously as he looks up at Derek’s knock on the doorway into his office. 

“I brought donuts,” Derek says seriously.

“Well come on in.” The Sheriff says.

Then Derek waits until Scott and Stiles are going to have a ‘bro time’ night, and drags Scott out into the preserve with him. 3 separate times in a row. Derek teaches Scott things like what moss is edible and how to do back flips with style. It’s great. They bond. (Derek knows what nights are ‘bro time’ because he listens in on Stiles’ phone conversations.) (No, he is not a creeper, he prefers the term, ‘stalker’.) (Thank you.)

He brings the Sheriff a double greaseburger with extra large fries from the Beacon Drive-in for lunch.  

He sneaks in (and no he’s not proud of this, but now he’s maybe having too much fun to stop) when Stiles is asleep and steals his economics homework right out of his school bag.  

He spray paints on the back of that kid Liam’s house, ‘Stiles wuz here’.  

The night he lifts Stiles’ spare from that ridiculous thing he calls a vehicle and lets the air out of his back right tire, Stiles walks back in the rain straight to Derek’s loft, not his house. 

Derek’s waiting for him in the center of his living room (yes it is a living room goddammit, not a rave party’s wet dream), arms crossed over his chest, his best asshole look on his face, and a not inconsiderable amount of glee. Which, considering his age, is maybe a little disturbing. 

“You.” Stiles accuses, as he storms inside, limbs in all directions, his eyes wild, bringing with him the scent of rain and righteous fury. 

“Me?” Derek parrots back with an eyebrow raise.

Stiles stomps straight over to Derek, who smirks in anticipation. 

He’s completely ready for Stiles to get all up in his space. He’s even ready for Stiles to grab to fistfuls of his shirt (kid’s grown bold in his old age).

He’s even secure enough in his victory to allow Stiles to jerk him forward.

He’s completely unprepared for Stiles’ lips (soft parted raindrops sweet) to press against his. 

Derek’s arms uncross from his chest and drop to his sides in shock. 

“You,” Stiles pulls back and glares at him, “I hate you.”

Derek nods in agreement, even as he leans forward into the next press of Stiles’ lips against his own (warm now full slightly parted sweet sweet).

They break apart for air. 

"You ruined my loft,” Derek growls.

“I want my fucking charger cord back,” Stiles hisses.

They come together again, and this time Stiles gets a hand around the back of Derek’s neck, and Derek slides both his hands under Stiles’ wet t-shirt.

They break apart once more for air.

“You fed my dad junk food,” Stiles accuses, lips swollen and (Derek is pleased to see) tender looking.

“Yeah I did, I think he likes me better than you now,” Derek grins.

“Fuck you,” Stiles. 

They kiss again, angry, demanding, life-affirming. 

Stiles’ scent is going to be everywhere again, Derek reflects. As Stiles slips an aggressive tongue inside his mouth, Derek supposes that’s not going to bother him much anymore.  

A Royal Mess

Imagine being Erebor’s Royal Maid and walking in on Thorin naked.

Another day of chores as monotonous as the one before and the one to come after. When you had thought of returning to the Mountain, you had never expected to do so as a maid. Though what could you expect. Before you had been nothing but a servant and Erebor had enough smiths as it were, so you were not of much use to the Forge.

The only grace was the dwarf you served: the king. Thorin was an admirable king and his character was much the same behind closed doors. He was kind to you, kinder than any you had worked for before. He had his days when his mood was darkened and you bore them quietly and patiently. It was not so bad being a royal maid, even if it was quite dull.

You knocked at the door of the king’s chambers and received no answer. Likely he was still in council which meant you could do your work swiftly and be on your way. You pushed inside, fresh linens stacked in your arms and crossed to the grand bed which stood against the far wall. You stripped it, though not easily, as the blankets were nearly heavier than you, and then pulled on the clean sheets.

Keep reading


wait wait wait

wait a second

So Solas once said:

“Spirits wish to join the living, and a demon is that wish gone wrong.”

If that theory that Solas was once an actual Pride spirit like Cole was Compassion is true, and that before the Veil that kind of thing was a common occurrence

what if

what if all this time demons and spirits were just trying to be born?

Like I’m not saying that spirits want to be born as in babies 


I have this theory that pre-Veil, spirits used to be able to come across like Cole rather easily, and that’s what Solas was and how he was “born”

but what if it wasn’t just something that could happen, but was so common that it happened all the time?

And all this time spirits have been targeting mages because they’re still trying to complete some kind of innate natural compulsion, like fish swimming upstream to breed?

What if the Veil totally fucked that up to the point that spirits can’t do it any more without the process outright mutilating them?

What if the reason why Elven Inquisitors can see a much brighter/more vivid Crossroads in Trespasser is because elves are descended from spirits – not partially, but completely?

(Just how many Elvhen names are spirits? Elgar’nan means “spirit of vengeance”, Mythal was his counterpart Justice [do these two remind you of anything], and Dirthamen’s name is derived from knowledge and could actually, in fact, mean Wisdom, Abelas is sorrow – Despair – and of course, we have our resident egg asshole, Pride.)


Dean’s Physical and Psychological Hunger - On a Recurring Theme Illustrating His Inner Struggle in Season 9 and Season 10

Ever since Dean took on the Mark of Cain in season 9 the show has been using the metaphor of hunger to explore and highlight Dean’s inner struggle. A struggle that is being fought on far more than just one level and reaches far deeper than just physical hunger. The mark served as a catalyst for all the issues Dean has been suppressing to come out of hiding. So in that regard the only way for Dean to heal might be for him to consciously work through all the traumas he experienced without drowning out the pain and fear with alcohol or silence it with throwing punches.

While it is horrible to see Dean in so much pain and in such a fragile mindset and as wrong as it sounds, the mark might in a twisted way help Dean to overcome his demons and truly grow into the person he wants to be and is at his core: a good man, to whom happened horrible things, a beautiful man, who has always had a heart of gold, but whose heart was broken early in life and is still trying to put all the pieces back together.

Over the course of the second half of season 9 the show has been framing the Mark of Cain / First Blade arc as an addiction that keeps eating away at Dean and ripping him off of who he is and is overpowering him. The more Dean fell under the spell of the mark’s and the blade’s powers, the more the show has been bringing up the aspect of hunger.

The most important episodes the show has addressed the nature of hunger before season 9 were in 4x04 “Metamorphosis” and 5x14 “My Bloody Valentine”. In the first one we meet a man, who experiences a hunger he cannot place and that he is unable to sate. The whole episode we see him eat anything in sight, but nothing gives him the satisfaction he is looking for and that is because he doesn’t give his body what it wants: human meat.

It’s an episode exploring and showing how someone becomes a monster and most importantly without wanting or choosing it, but being “destined” to become one due to a genetic predisposition. The audience witnesses the metamorphosis from human to rougarou first hand, similarly to how the audience was with Dean every step of the way during his metamorphosis (I wrote a three-part-meta on Dean’s metamorphosis in S9 which kind of deal with similar topics. Here are links to part 1, 2, and 3) from human to demon. It’s in this episode we also learn that Dean must have experienced hunger and possibly starvation, which Sam on the other hand doesn’t seem to have experienced. In the early seasons already it was hinted at that Dean gave the little food they had when John wasn’t around to Sam.

So while 4x04 explores the feeling of not ever being able to feel full, 5x14 kind of turns this aspect on the head. It’s the episode the horseman Famine is introduced and entire town experiencing “hunger”. Some cannot stop eating, some cannot stop drinking, Castiel is unable to resist eating burgers, Sam relapses on demon blood. The only one seemingly not affected by Famine is Dean. And it tells a lot about his state of mind, because he is refusing to eat altogether. It hints at Dean’s depression and helplessness and wish for nothingness. His hunger has much more an emotional rather than a physical quality. And of course Famine himself gives an explanation for Dean’s immunity against him, an explanation which loomingly lingers on everything we were witnessing in season 9.

“Doesn’t take much—hardly a push. Oh, America—all-you-can-eat, all the time. Consume, consume. A swarm of locusts in stretch pants. And yet, you’re all still starving because hunger doesn’t just come from the body, it also comes from the soul.[…] Yes. I see. That’s one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can’t fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex.[…] Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me! I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can’t win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just… keep going through the motions. You’re not hungry, Dean, because inside, you’re already…dead.

Basically every little thing Famine tells Dean here, we have seen Dean try after he was cured. He tried to be the one, he used to be - enjoy sex, watch silly movies and laugh, try and be excited about food - but the darkness and the emptiness within he couldn’t truly gloss over, couldn’t really silence. And in the end the mark got what it wanted - just like the rougarou within the human got in the end.

These two episodes and their distinct meaning and exploration of the theme of “hunger” works as a good backdrop to analyze what we have been seeing in the second half of season 9 and the episodes of season 10 so far because they address the physical hunger and the psychological hunger that doesn’t have anything to do with food.

In season 9 we had multiple episodes dealing with hunger in one way or another or the “deep dark hole in the pit of ones stomach” as a metaphor for the darkness each one of us carries within. And some of these lines of season 9 get a really tragic and creepy overtone when taking a look at Dean in season 10.

It’s starts with 9x04 “Dog Dean Afternoon”. An episode in which Dean goes through a metamorphosis on a psycholigical level, because he mindmelts with a dog. It’s heavy foreshadowing to what would happen later on in the season. The important part is what Chef Leo tells Dean about how he became a killer:

"See, when I was diagnosed, I was way past standard treatment. No one could save me. But then with the help of a Pawnee shaman and a zoo membership, I found a cure, albeit a temporary one. Cancer always came back. […] Well, I didn’t mean to kill anyone – at first. But if people got in my way, they became collateral damage. Guess you eat enough predators, you start to become one. You are what you eat, right?”

These few lines basically sum up Dean’s whole targic current storyline. In 10x07 “Girls Girls Girls” he tells Cole he is “past saving”. There is no cure, just a temporary relief when he kills. And in 10x09 “The Things We Left Behind” we see Dean try everything to fill that clawing darkness in the pit of his stomach, nurturing his body, so he would nurture the mark. In the end the mark won, people became collateral damage and Dean the predator. And similarly he tried to detox - with alcohol, with food and most of all with killing - in 10x11, but in the end again the mark’s bloodlust and hunger was sated, Dean’s hands no longer sjaking because the mark got what it craved.

In 9x12 “Sharp Teeth” Reverend Jim echos part of Famine’s words to Dean:

"Then I looked at Bess, and I realized the road to revenge is a dark and lonely one, which you never get off. And that hole in the pit of your stomach, you never fill it — ever.

And in the following episode the topic of eating and turning to ood, because of missing love and care or longing for something far more abstract than donuts or pie is made the plot of 9x13 “The Purge”. Donna Hanscum is the one in this episode, who works as a mirror for Dean’s inner struggle (as well as Alonzo, who was unable to control his id - similarly to how Dean keeps losing control when the mark takes over):

"That was a dark time for me. Whoever said you eat your pain? Not me. I guzzled it.

In season 9 we mostly saw Dean try to drown his pain in alcohol, in season 10 - as said above - we see Dean try to silence the pain ("See his point, only humans can feel real joy, but also such profound pain. This is easier.” - Castiel in 10x03 “Soul Survivor”) with sex, drink, food and hunting. Needless to say, it didn’t work out all that well. The further the season progressed the less we saw Dean sleep or eat and the more influenced we saw Dean by the blade and the mark - he was slowly dying basically. When it comes to the aspect of hunger though of course 9x23 “Do You Believe in Miracles” is a milestone since Dean refuses his burger and that is the moment Crowley that Dean is going to turn if he dies.

As sad before, season 10 had multiple instances of addressing Dean’s hunger and him trying to feed his body in order to not feed the mark. Really heavy the aspect of hunger though was addressed in the past three episodes:

  • In 10x09 “The Things We Left Behind” we see Dean desperatley trying to be the guy he used to be. Laughing about silly movies, eating everything in sight and trying to focus on something else than what the mark probably makes him think and feel 24/7. In the end Dean lost the fight against his id. The makr takes over, leaves Dean soaking in blood.
  • In 10x10 “The Hunter Games” Dean goes to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Feed the body, not the mark, but he ends up beating Metatron close to death and nurturing the mark.
  • In 10x11 “There’s No Place Like Home” Dean is detoxing and experiencing withdrawal symptoms. He tries to not feed hs darkness and also tries to eat healthier. While he was able to resist the liquor, he lost control during the fight against Dark!Charlie and has to realize that the shaking subsided because the mark has gotten what it wanted: blood.

Taking all of the above into account I find it kind of genious of the show to continue this theme and further build on it with the upcoming episode 10x12 “About A Boy” that features the fairytale of “Hansel and Gretel”. A fairytale about two siblings being sent away, because the family was unable to feed all four of them. Hunger is a central theme of the fairytale. After all the Evil Witch is able to lure them to her home, because of their hunger and they start eating her candy house (I am really curious if there will be a parallel here i the episode).

So while I assume this episode will not only be really enlighting for both Winchesters since Sam literally is turned into the older brother, the one taking care of Dean (like he has all season) like Dean always had all his life and will probably explore a lot of interesting things about why the mark is so toxic for Dean and how it made him to be so vulnerable to it in the first place (I still think it would be extremely interesting if Dean - if he really is only physicall changed into his 14 year old self - was freed from the mark and for a moment them actually contemplating if that was the way to save Dean OR Dean carrying the mark as a kid, but being completely immune to it - that would make it possible to explore the things and experiences and traumas that are to blame for Dean to be so powerless against it as an adult), I think the theme of Dean’s psychological hunger might be explored through the background of his childhood. The episode could make it possible for Dean and Sam as well to truly realize how much was placed on Dean’s shoulders, how much responsibility. And most of all how long he might have been starving - not just physically when him and Sam didn’t have much to go by and him giving all their food for Sam while remaining hugry himself - but most of all emotionally.

It seems the show is doing a really great built up to explore the nature of Dean’s hunger vs. the mark’s hunger for the upcoming episodes. Dean is fighting more than one hunger. He doesn’t really seem to be hungry, but rather goes through the motions. Even when he ate burgers this season he didn’t seem to be doing it with much gusto, but like something that was expected of him. He used it as a distraction.

So in that regard to me the hunger Dean is struggling with is much more of the psychological kind than the physical one. And maybe if they find a way to find a cure for that hunger, they’ll find a cure for the mark (though I still think Dean might have to keep it and has to leanr to find balance while always having this burden). After all Dean’s hunger isn’t a hunger for food, it’s a hunger for safety, a hunger for balance and happiness.

And most of all, it’s a hunger for love.