writing totally counts as art

insert-reference-here submitted:

I’m obsessed with A) your art, B) your coloring pages, and C) writing kid!Dean and kid!Sam. This is the result.

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The pillow is Mary’s, salvaged from the remains of their house after the fire. It’s itchy and tattered and a rather alarming shade of pink, but it’s Mary’s, so Dean treasures it. Every night he falls asleep with his nose buried in its fabric, imagining that even after two years he can still smell her sea cotton perfume.

Sammy, curled next to him most nights, has no memory of the pillow’s original owner. In his mind, it’s Dean’s. It always has been. When he falls asleep, it’s to the sound of his brother’s breathing, the softness of his shirt clutched in Sammy’s little fist, the scent of musty cloth and children’s shampoo surrounding him like a fog. To him, the pillow means comfort and safety and Dean.

But some of the other kids laugh at it. They call Dean a momma’s boy, a cry baby, a girly girl, day after day after day until he can’t take it anymore, until his head is pounding with hurtful words. In a fit of tearful humiliation, he stomps into his bedroom and throws his prized possession under the bed, where it’ll be hidden from prying eyes and taunting smirks.

That’s where Sammy finds it later that day. Reaching under the bed for a long-lost toy, his fingers skitter over the familiar fabric, and he pulls it out in confusion. Dean loves this pillow; what is it doing under the bed? Sammy dusts it off and climbs into Dean’s bed, toy already forgotten. With Mr. Moose held tightly in his arms, he settles in for a nap, nose buried in the scratchy fabric, imagining the warmth of Dean’s body next to his and falling asleep with very little trouble.

Dean wanders in a few minutes later. Seeing his brother curled up with their one physical connection to their mom, he stops short. In an instant, any embarrassment he may have felt is forgotten, because who cares what the other kids says? Sammy certainly doesn’t, and that’s all that matters. Mary is too important to let dumb kids get under his skin.

So when Sammy wakes up to find his nose buried in Dean’s chest, safe in his brother’s embrace, he doesn’t think anything of it. He just smiles and snuggles in deeper.

He also doesn’t speak up when Dean takes to openly dragging the pillow around the house, his grin impish and his eyes shining defiantly; Dean’s always been a weird one anyway.

((Eee this is adorable! :D My comfort item as a child was a pillowcase, funny enough xD ))

Just a note if you are here looking for wax/wane: updates are most likely going to be biweekly from now on. In the meantime, here’s some fan art…Myka’s season 4 hair is surely a creature all on it’s own, no? (That stylist really didn’t get her hair at all…)

homeschooled-fangirl submitted: 

Dean rarely got to have his own toys, he normally just shared with Castiel and Sam, but the tape player his dad got him made up for it.

  “Remember to not break it,” John said, “I won’t buy you a new one if you do.”

  “I’ll remember,” Dean said, “And I won’t listen to any girly music on it.”

  “That’s my boy,” John said, ruffling Dean’s hair, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”  Dean kept the player out of sight for most of the day, because demons could be careless and he didn’t want to have a broken player, but towards bedtime he couldn’t resist sitting in the living room with it.

  “Listen too?” Sam asked.

  “Sure, Sammy,” Dean said, lifting one earphone and wrapping it around both of their heads.  Sam listened happily for a few minutes, but babies get bored easily, and Gabriel walking by with a bowlful of chocolate only made Sam fidget more.  “Go if you want.”

  “Thanks!” Sam said, running after Gabriel as Dean readjusted his headphones.  He sat, content, before shouting echoed through the room as Lucifer and Michael ran in.

  “I win!” Michael panted, “I win again!”

  “No fair, you cheated!” Lucifer huffed, “You flapped your wings!”

  “It was to stay steady!” Michael said, “And I still won!  So ha, I’m faster at running too!”  Michael walked away, smiling and out of breath, and Lucifer pouted until he saw Dean.

  “Hey!” he said, giving a shark-like smile, “What’re you listening to?”

  “Music,” Dean said, scooting away.

  “If you let me listen, I won’t break it,” Lucifer said, and Dean immediately lifted and earphone so Lucifer could scoot next to him.

  “Just don’t move too much,” Dean said as Lucifer got comfortable, and he continued to fidget until Dean pressed play, when he stiffened then relaxed.

  “I didn’t know you had such good taste in music,” he hummed.  Dean snuck a glance at Lucifer, and found that he was sitting very still with his eyes closed and hands in his lap.  His wings were only slightly moving to the beat, and he was humming along happily.  Dean turned away, confused as to why the normally-loud angel was being so quiet.  Michael walked back in, and stopped when he saw Lucifer.

  “Lucifer?” Michael asked, and Lucifer opened his eyes, “What are you listening to?”  Lucifer put a finger to his lips and closed his eyes again, and Michael gave Dean an odd look before sitting next to Adam.  When the tape ended, Lucifer stood gently, careful to not break the player.

  “Thanks,” he said, “Can I listen again later?”

  “Sure,” Dean said.  The next day, Dean made sure to sit in a secluded area.  He had planned on avoiding Lucifer, in case his calm state had been out of shock, but Lucifer found him anyway and immediately pulled on an earphone and resumed yesterday’s position.  Dean sat for a moment before humming the harmony, and Lucifer’s smile widened as he continued the melody, and they did this until the tape was finished, when Lucifer left.

  They continued this ritual for a few days, and each time Dean would move to a quieter spot until they were sitting so far away from everyone that no one could hear them even if they yelled.  Every day Dean brought a different tape, and he asked his dad for new ones whenever he could, so they never ended up listening to the same music twice.  One day, the day that no one could hear them, Dean ran out of tapes, and he was worried that Lucifer would break his player if he played something boring, so he chose the tape that Lucifer had enjoyed the most.  Lucifer didn’t mind the repeat of the tape; he actually enjoyed it so much that he broke tradition.

  “Carry on my wayward son,” he sang, and Dean jumped slightly at how good he was, “There’ll be peace when you are done.”  Dean stayed still and quiet, fearing that if he moved Lucifer would notice that he was there and stop singing, but Lucifer sang the whole tape and didn’t leave right when it stopped.

  “You’re really good,” Dean said quietly.

  “Thanks,” Lucifer said, the smile still on his face, “I like doing this, can we do it all the time?”

  “Sure,” Dean said, and they listened to tapes together every day after that.

—————–

So I was creeping through your tags and I found this one where Dean and Lucifer were listening to music together and my mind ran wild. :P

Even The Closest Siblings Fight Something...

mitch123k submitted:

Sooooo, I may have been stalking your blog while sick, and went through about 30 pages of Deanie when I came along a post about fighting bros…

Dean had been running around Bobby’s for hours (technically, three minutes, but it felt like hours to Dean)  looking for his brother.“Sammy? Do you know where Bab-”

Sam was curled up inside the cardboard version of John’s impala, asleep. Dean smiled and tip-toed over. “Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaam," He whispered. "You gotta get up, Ellen’s taking us and Jo to the zoo!”

Murmuring, Sam sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Sammy zoo?”

“Mhm. Sammy z-” Dean stopped short and looked closely into the impala. “Sam, is that your…juicebox?” He asked in a horrifed voice.

Sam picked up the spilled box. “Yeps.”

“And…did it get on the car?”

Sam checked, spying a large orange spot staining the cardboard. “Yeps Dean.”

“SAM!” He pulled his brother out of the car and stared hopelessly at it. “You ruined it!”

Sam stuck out his tongue. “Nu uhs.”

“Yes, you did, jerk.” Dean mumbled, picking the car up. Maybe Bobby could fix it?

“SAMMY NOT JERK!”

“Yes, Sammy is! I means….yes, you are!”

It was ten minutes before Jo had waddled in, having been sent by her mother to see if the boys were coming. She found them throwing tiny punches at eachother on the ground.

Unable to break it up herself, she grabbed Bobby.

“You idjits ! What happened?” He asked, glaring at Dean’s split lip and Sam’s bloody nose.

“Sam ruin’d  Baby!” He held up the car as evidence of the the heidous crime.

“DEAN SPILLED JUICE WHEN HE WOKE ME UPS!” Sam defended.

(It was later realized they were both partially correct. When Dean woke Sam up, he spilled the juice. Had Dean not woken Sam, the juice would’ve have spilled. Had Sam not snuck into the car, none of it would have happened.)

“That don’t mean you fight eachother!” Bobby growled. “Git to your rooms, both of you. Just be happy your dad wasn’t home to break this up!” He stalked off to inform Ellen that no, neither of the boys would be allowed to go to the zoo and she should just leave with Jo.

The Winchester brothers did go to their room, glaring the entire way. 

“I can’t believe we can’t go to the zoo now,” Dean complained, plopping down on the bed. “I was goin’ to look at tigers wit’ Jo!”

Sam didn’t respond. He just rolled his eyes. 

After about an hour, Bobby let them out with strict orders to keep their distance for the day. Dean stomped over to Cas and Charlie angerly. They, of course, asked about his lip.

“Sam ruined my baby-”

“Oh!” Gasped Charlie dramatically.

Dean nodded. “And then we foughts.”

“I didn’ know you two foughts…” Cas said doubtfully.

“Only,” Said Dean, glaring at Sam from the other side of the room. “When he’s bein’ a brat!”

The entire room quieted. Even Crowley seemed surprised at the outburst. The Winchesters rarely fought.

“DEAN MEAN!” Sam declared. Bela nodded agreedibly.

Gabe had to break them up.

chey-la-enne submitted: Rescue from Time-Out (fic)

Gabriel crossed his arms and pouted as the circle of flames sprung up around him. He still didn’t know what he had done to deserve a time-out. He hadn’t been trying to make Sammy cry. He had just been trying on his clown costume for Halloween when he had been distracted by the others playing tag. He had joined the game and when he had become “it”, Sammy just happened to be the one closest to him.  Of course he was going to chase Sammy around and try to tag him.

He hadn’t known that Sammy was afraid of clowns, though, especially not to the point where he would cry. Now his brothers were mad at him, along with Dean, and Gabriel had been put in time-out.

Keep reading

No More Mr. Grumpy Face!

greenmage128 submitted:

I was having a bad day at work and decided to write some Baby!Natural fan fic to make everything better. So here it is, featuring Team Prank War and their usual shenanigans! (And I totally wasn’t projecting onto Crowley here; nooo, never.)

Crowley sat curled up in his favorite chair in the playroom, chin resting on his knees and glaring at no one in particular. Growley was on the floor beside him in a position similar to his master. The demon caught sight of his pup’s sullen face from the corner of his eye—and okay maybe he was glaring at someone in particular.      Two someones, actually. Eve and Abaddon were playing with their twisted dolls across the room. At the moment it looked like one of Eve’s vampire dolls was chomping on an angel doll with an orange shirt and light brown hair, and the girls were in hysterics. Every so often they would give Crowley a sidelong glance and laugh harder. The brats.      "We’ll get them back. You’ll see, boy,“ Crowley said to his hound.      Growley gave a little puppy-sigh, which the demon took as a sign of agreement. All of a sudden he raised his eyes, tilting it to the left slightly. Crowley followed his gaze and frowned.      A poofy blond coif had appeared in the doorway, its owner quick to follow when he realized he’d been found out. Instead of acting coy, Balthazar sauntered into the playroom.      "Aw, what’s wrong, Crowles? Are the other demons not playing nice?” the angel asked.      Eve and Abaddon snickered from their corner.      "Go away,“ was all Crowley said and resumed his glaring.      Balthazar seated himself on the empty arm of Crowley’s little chair. "Don’t sulk, babe. We have an image to maintain.”      But Crowley wasn’t listening. He was focused on the girls’ doll party, where another angel had joined the fray, this one with messy blond hair and unkempt wings. Crowley’s glaring intensified. If anything caught fire at this point, he wouldn’t be surprised.      "I’m not sulking,“ he said to Balthazar after a moment. "And go away.”      "Thought you might say that.“ Balthazar looked over his shoulder and yelled, "He’s sulking!”      Gabe fluttered into the playroom and took up the other arm of the chair. “Hey, Mr. Grumpy Face,” he said, using what had to be the most ridiculous voice ever.      Crowley buried his face in his hands, not wanting to know what kind of expression Gabe was giving him. “Not you too, angel.”      "When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do?“ Gabe asked, and Crowley could hear the smirk.      "I don’t want to know what you’ve gotta do,” the demon said, voice muffled by his hands.      "Oh but I do,“ Balthazar said. "Go on, Gabe.”      And thus Gabe broke into song: “Just keep pranking. Just keep pranking. Just keep pranking, pranking, pranking. What do we do? We prank, prank.” Each word was punctuated with a poke to Crowley’s shoulder, and Balthazar was leaning against his other side to cut off his escape.      The demon was about to put a stop to it, before Gabe started with the operatics, but Abaddon did it for him, yelling “Oops!” at the top of her lungs. And then there was a loud tearing sound, which caused Crowley to actually look up.      One of the angel dolls—the blond one—was ripped clean in half.      "Hey that’s Zira’s doll!“ Gabe said. Suddenly he was in the air, hands on his hips and golden wings outstretched. "Give it back!”      Abaddon tossed the pieces of the doll to the floor. “You can have it. Who wants a torn up doll anyway?”      As she turned away, Growley rushed over to retrieve the poor, tattered thing and laid it at Crowley’s feet. The demon sighed. Now it was destroyed and covered in puppy drool.      That didn’t stop Gabe from picking the doll up and examining the remains. “We can fix it. A little magic here and there, and Zira won’t even notice!”      Balthazar leaned over to get a closer look at it. “I’m pretty sure he’ll notice. It reeks of sulfur.”      Gabe pushed him hard enough to threaten his balance, the whole chair wobbling in protest. “So does Crowles, but none of us mind that.” He looked at Crowley. “But first, how are we going to get them back for this?”      Crowley gave the question serious thought. After a few moments he looked down at Growley. “They’ve still got the other angel doll. Go get it, boy.”      The pup barked once and bounded across the room. The two girls screamed, and Team Prank War laughed and exchanged a well-earned high-five.

((Aww, poor Crowley! xD At least he got his dolls back. I’m sure Cas or someone can help fix them! Also I loved this so much, I had to draw something for it. ))