#chayya writes

[bijoharvelle]

(sorry that i think cas was at his hottest in season 4. as if it's my fault.) inspired by my own tags on this gifset from @gentlemancowboy like a month ago

Dean is faking sleep – Sammy only just knocked off, tossing and turning and muttering on Bobby’s couch that he outgrew more than ten years ago – when Castiel fizzles into existence. Hell is still screaming through his head and for a minute he can’t tell the difference between the soft black of the back of his eyelids and the cold void of hellfire.

The sound of wings, though, is familiar. The sound of Castiel coming is familiar, like some distant memory tucked away in his time below.

His heart is going triple-time in the cage of his chest and the rapid pulse roils through shame and guilt and hurt, like it’s still trying to pound out of Victor’s ice grip. There’s a roaring in his ears that maybe sounds like Viktor’s scream so he can’t be sure of what he says to the angel (if that's what this even is). He just knows that it’s snatchy and prickly because he doesn’t know how to be anything else in this situation. Every time he blinks he sees the bodies of people he let die: hunters, civilians, people just doing their jobs, innocent bystanders. Witnesses.

He comes back to himself when the angel in front of him tosses his hands up in defeat. It’s something, to annoy a celestial being into petulance, but Dean figures that’s Castiel’s fault. He’s the one who groped him out of Hell after all. Dean is his problem, now.

Castiel moves in closer and Dean is reminded of big cats in the wild, stalking in on cornered prey. Fever rises in him, a contrast against the high-whine of desperation that has been flooding his system since Victor reached for his heart, since Meg put the beat-down on him, since he crawled out of his own grave. 

“You should show me some respect,” Castiel rasps out and Dean’s breathing catches in his throat. The angel is close enough that Dean can smell the off-center scent coming off him, something like metal melting and the milk of dandelion. He’s close enough that Dean can tell he isn’t breathing, doesn’t need to breathe.

“I dragged you out of Hell,” the angel says, voice whip-tight and Dean hears himself in it, an echo of Dean’s regret and guilt borne in Castiel’s admittance that six of his brothers were killed. “I can throw you back in.”

It’s a threat but Dean’s wiring has always been more than a little crossed, so he’s not surprised that it makes heat surge through his chest and straight down to his dick.

“Should maybe make it worthwhile then, huh?” Dean says, and he means it to be cocky and smug and flirtatious but it comes out reed-thin and needy. Before he can do anything to save face, he’s on his knees, eyes bowed up to look at the angel above him.

Castiel’s face is blank, calculating. Dean can practically see him flipping through a rolodex of human behavior, trying to place just what Dean is doing. His head cocks to the side, just the slightest bit and Dean’s eyes track along the dark shock of hair along his head. He wants to twist his fingers in it.

Instead, he gets one hand around Castiel’s hip and presses his face full into the guy’s crotch. And maybe Castiel doesn’t have to breathe, but there’s a long pull of inhale from the angel and Dean smiles to himself at that.

“What–”

“Shh,” Dean hushes, purposefully letting a hot stream of his breath run along Castiel’s leg. The angel obeys and Dean nuzzles between his legs.

And it’s familiar. It’s easy, Dean knows this. He knows bodies and pleasure, understands the simplicity of the role before him. For a minute, the wild chaos of torture in his head dulls and he can almost hear himself think. It takes him a minute to realize that Castiel has one hand resting atop his head, gentle and tentative.

Dean gets his tongue around the ugly-ass fabric of Castiel’s ugly-ass slacks and clamps his teeth on the zipper of the fly. Sharp metal pricks his tongue and Castiel’s hand goes a little heavier in his hair.

“You’re shaking,” Castiel says. It’s quiet, but in the hush of the night around them, Dean takes it like gunshot. He doesn’t answer, just looks up at Castiel through his lashes and tugs the zipper down. Reaching up one hand to pop the button, he realizes that Castiel is right. He’s shaking. He swallows past it and coasts his hand under the white dress shirt, skin skipping along skin.

“You’re shaking,” Castiel says again, even softer this time. Dean’s arm is stretched, hand splayed over where Castiel’s heart would be if angels had hearts, and his mouth is open against the boxers that the angel is wearing and in any other life he might laugh at that: angels wear boxers. There isn’t any room for revelation in his head, though, he’s still busy trying to rush through the sudden quiet in his mind.

He hasn’t been alone in his thoughts in forty years or two weeks. It’s all been a twisted havoc of Alastair’s hissing voice and the wretched cries he wrenched from souls and taunts from other demons. It’s all been a jumble of all the ways he was never good enough in life and how that was proved true when he finally climbed down off the Rack. It’s all been an endless parade of self-hate, guilt, shame, terror.

And so part of him is chanting in the background that he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve this quiet, this relief, but soon enough that too is soothed back. Until all he can focus in on is the pressure of Castiel’s hand on the crown of his head and the heat of Castiel’s cock under his tongue.

The angel is ramrod still, every muscle tuned taut to almost snapping and Dean wants more than anything to make him break. Dean wants more than anything to feel those fingers clench in his hair, those hips thrust against his chin. He wants to find out whether angels come and if they do, fuck, he wants to taste it.

He realizes that his knees and back aren’t aching the way they should be, the way they usually do, and he lilts his eyes up. That’s when he finds that Castiel is watching him with such rapt attention that it should be blasphemous. He was pretty sure one of the main commandments from the Big Guy upstairs was taking no other God before him and Castiel is looking at him like he might just turn false idols. Castiel is looking at him and looking at him and it’s enough that for a split second and no more Dean thinks maybe there is something in him worth saving. 

He didn’t like the idea of God’s eye narrowing in on him but he doesn’t hate the idea of Castiel’s attention on him, unwavering.

Their eyes are latched and Dean can tell that Castiel is keying up higher and higher and he’s about to break

and Dean wakes up on the floor.

He wakes up on the floor, gasping, and desperately hard, and with a sharp pain around his jaw and lurking in his knees and back. There’s weak sunlight pooling in and the couch is empty, Sam walking around somewhere further in the house.

Dean closes his eyes and he doesn’t see Victor, or Meg, or Randy, or any dead bodies. He just sees the iridescent imprint of blue irises, floating like haloes out of the darkness.

#deancas #deancas fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfic #chayya writes

[stainedglasstruth]

TIMING: A few days after Sacrificial Spawns LOCATION: Wormmates' Apartment, Worm Row PARTIES: Zack (@zackbanes) + Wynne (@ohwynne) + Arden (@stainedglasstruth) SUMMARY: After getting discharged from the hospital, Arden, Wynne, and Zack are all struggling to sleep through the night. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

After finally being discharged from the hospital, Zack, Wynne, and Arden– accompanied by Teagan and Ariadne– headed back to the apartment for some well needed rest. Well, first she cried upon seeing Hobbes and proceeded to smother him with affection. Then she rested, practically melting into her beautiful, comfortable bed. Her rest wasn’t exactly peaceful, though, plagued by nightmares of glowing red eyes. While that wasn’t exactly a new one for her, Wynne and Zack being there was. 

She woke covered in sweat, Dream Wynnne’s whimpering the last thing she could remember. Grimacing as she thoughtlessly tried to move her broken arm, Arden slowly sat up, surveying the room as she became more alert. Teagan was still asleep next to her, and she couldn’t help the small smile from creeping over her face as she looked at the nix. Ugh, she was so gay. Reaching for her water bottle, though, she paused. …was that smoke? She sniffed the air, feeling uncertain, but no. It was faint, but…

Carefully, as to not wake Teagan, she pulled herself out of bed, letting out a soft ‘oof’ as she got to her feet. Her body still felt heavy with exhaustion and the remnants of sleep, but she ignored it as she poked her head out into the hallway. Okay, that was definitely the smell of smoke, though not powerful enough to be concerned… yet. Arden spared another glance back to her sleeping girlfriend before stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind her. 

—

As far as first-times-at-the-hospital went, Wynne’s experience ranked pretty low. The lights had been bright, the smell of cleaning agents pungent, the nurses’ faces so concerned and pitiful. It had been disorienting, to go from that dark and pungent basement to the hospital, to be separated from the people they wanted to cling to. Now, at least, they were all together again, back in the home with the meowing cats and their fourth part of their whole.

They couldn’t sleep. They laid there, hugging knees and fingers trailing over the stitches in their neck. Ariadne lied against them, arms wrapped around their body. But her steady breathing did little to ground Wynne, who was thinking about that basement. About Metzli, ripping heads off as if it was as easy as plucking apples off a tree. About Zack’s pleas and the look in Arden’s eye and Zane, refusing to bite them but ending up tearing into their neck all the same. They considered the medication the hospital had offered, which made them drowsy and calm, but remained frozen. 

Until the smell of smoke reached their nostrils. They slipped out of bed, whispering something about the bathroom to an asleep Ariadne, knees trying to readjust to being stretched again. When Wynne walked into the hallway, their eyes fell on Arden and for a moment they just wanted to move over and hug her, because it was something they could do. In stead, they offered a quizzical look. “Zack…?” They offered as a possible explanation. Wynne started moving towards his door, and the smell of smoke grew more powerful. After knocking three times, just to be polite, they opened the door slowly.

—

He was wandering Worm Row at night. Was he going to meet someone? Probably. He must be – it was late and on his own. He must be meeting up with someone at the Wormhole or something. Maybe Arden? Probably Arden and Wynne and Sully – all of them heading out for a drink or two again. But when he turned the corner it was the alley where the torple had latched onto his leg. His brow drew up, confused, and that’s when he saw them – the familiar boots that Arden usually wore. Their body was a crumpled heap huddled at the corner of the alley and Wynne was there next to them – small and bloodied. Before the horrified “no!” could make it out of his mouth, Zack was slammed against the wall, teeth latching onto his neck – a six-foot tall torple ripping him apart. He couldn’t even scream with his throat crushed in but when the fear exploded from him, it was hot–

He wasn’t on the streets of Worm Row, of course, nor was he in the alley in Nightfall. Just his own bed, dreaming. Nightmare. But the heat… That was real. It was that strange kind of heat that always came from his fire. With a panicked gasp, Zack realized that it was his fire – the bed around him, his sheets and pillow were all caught and the flames were licking dangerously close to the curtains. 

It took a few fumbles before he was able to squelch the flames, terrified and caught off-guard as he was. Smoke filled the room still and just as he was moving to wrench the window open, the door opened behind him. Wynne and Arden were huddled there – obviously drawn to the smell of smoke. Shame dropped into his chest, fast and hot. And fear, again, because they had all been asleep. Everyone had been sleeping after the hospital and Teagan and Ariadne had been there too and Zack had almost burned the building down around them. 

“I’m sorry!” was what blurted out of him, sudden and fast and a little choked. “I… I was dreaming and it just–” Giving an unsteady breath, he reached to open the window, the smoke billowing out. “Are you both okay? I don’t think the smoke…got very far.” No, it hadn’t but that was cold comfort.

—

The moment Arden saw Wynne, she was walking over, closing the distance between them. She ignored the urge to wrap her arm around them, not wanting to upset them or any of their injuries. At the mention of Zack, she frowned. 

The thought had crossed her mind, the smell of smoke bringing her back to kneeling on the ground, putting pressure on Wynne’s neck as the barn went up in flames, the anxious churning of her stomach as she waited for him to get out. She hoped it wasn't him, but following Wynne to his door, it was clearly the source of the smell. 

Arden wasn't sure what to expect when Wynne opened the door, but a scorched bed certainly wasn't it. Nothing was actively on fire, though the smoke hanging in the air and the blackened sheets gave her a picture of what had happened. Her gaze turned from the bed to its owner standing next to the open window. He looked okay, thankfully, but that look in his eyes, the strained voice he was speaking in, it all felt so wrong. 

She had never seen Zack scared before they got grabbed, but she was fairly positive that his terrified face was now branded into her mind, along with Wynne’s. They were two of the sweetest people she knew, people Arden now had the certainty of knowing she would quite literally die for. Seeing the two of them so frightened and upset the past several days had killed her. And it felt even worse here, in their apartment, where things were normally so good, were supposed to be okay. 

Seeing Zack standing in his room looking so scared and close to tears, it broke her heart a little. 

"Hey," she started in a placating tone. "It's okay, we're okay. Right, Wynne?" Arden looked to them as she asked before throwing the question back at him. "Are you okay?" 

—

The smell of smoke reminded Wynne of home. Protherians preferred to heat their buildings with fire, rather than central heating, and then there was of course their bonfires. They danced around them on equinoxes, burned herbs and animal parts in them in the name of celebration. But the smell of smoke didn’t only remind them of home: it also reminded them of that night, only a few days ago, where they had watched that barn burn down before losing consciousness.

Zack had saved them with the fire that lived in him. They had seen his magic in action, seen its power. And they were so glad for it. But the smell of it still brought them back to that feeling of desperation. Their fingers moved to the stitches on their neck. They looked at Arden and thought all of this was surreal. The fact that they stood here, alive. That they were here, at home. And that Zack had started a fire again.

He was panicking and that seemed to flip a switch in their own mind. They couldn’t panic if he was panicking. They couldn’t make this worse with their own pathetic anxieties and fear, had to let go what was taking a hold of him.

Besides, they were more worried about him than anything else. Eyebrows creasing, eyes wide, their throat stinging a little from the dry air. “Yes,” they said quickly, falling in tandem with Arden and nodding their head. “We’re alright. Just wanted to see –” 

Well, Arden had said it, hadn’t she? Wynne had stupidly thought that maybe her roommates (and friends, or maybe even family) had been more okay than they were feeling. But maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe they were idealizing the people around them again, thinking them so much more invincible than they were in reality. “If you were okay. Did you have a bad dream?” They had them a lot, though things seemed infinitely better if Ariadne slept next to them. As if she had a magical calmness about her (though, of course, she didn’t: this was something that could be explained with pure emotional logic, rather than the actual magic they had and were witnessing).

They moved a little closer, wanting to take his hands but unsure if he’d want that. They were morosely aware that they all had red-rimmed wrists from the rope. Matching wounds. Just like the teeth marks in all their throats. “It’s okay.”

—

Zack’s eyes darted over his roommates, evaluating, ensuring that they really were okay. They were there, at least, standing there in the apartment. That was good, better than the dank cell they had all been kept in, better than the antiseptic halls of the hospital. The apartment was home, and it was safe. It was supposed to be safe. This time he had woken up early enough, had been able to put the flames out. But what about next time? What about when someone startled him while cooking or he was with someone and they moved their mouth to his neck, what about when Wynne was late coming how from work or Arden was with Teagan and he didn’t know where they were? What about the next night, when he had another nightmare, or the night after that?

“I’m fine. It’s… I’m fine.” He ran a hand up through the back of his hair, rustling the sweaty spikes there. Anything, any sensation to convince his body that he was awake. He was awake and he was in his room and Arden and Wynne were standing right in front of him, alive. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he answered Wynne. Which– How stupid was that? A nightmare and he had almost burned down the whole of their apartment. Overreacted like a toddler having a tantrum. 

Wynne’s quiet assurance was meant to soothe him, he knew. Was meant to settle him down and let him know that they were all fine. But it wasn’t and they weren’t. He laughed but it was a choked off noise. “It’s not okay. It’s really not. I could’ve–” They didn’t even really know, was the thing. What they had seen from him, in the basement, was nothing. They had all been gone when he set the rest of the place ablaze. And even that was nothing compared to what Zack knew he was capable of – the heat that could explode out of him, like it had when he demonstrated for Levi at the island. 

His mind was racing through the possibilities and potentials and problem-solving. “I’m sorry. I’ll– I should go.” It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night and that he had nowhere to go. Zack had spent his fair share of nights on the street, he could figure something out. For now, the only thing that mattered was keeping his roommates safe.

—

Wynne. Sweet, gentle Wynne. There was already a lump in her throat and just hearing them, seeing the worry in their eyes, the hesitant way they approached him, made it more pronounced. Zack was right, it wasn’t okay. None of this, none of them were okay. 

The three of them had gone through something awful, something terrifying. They had been moments away from their demise before Emilio and Metzli came bursting in. Wynne had multiple stitches in their neck, looked like they hadn’t slept at all, Arden felt uncomfortable, restrained with the splint and sling on her arm, had been having nightmares nonstop since that first night at the hospital, and Zack… Zack was clearly so far from fine, and it hurt to see. It wasn’t surprising in the least, but that didn’t make it any more palatable, any less heartbreaking, to see one of her best friends in such a state. His strained laughter cut through her like a searing hot knife, but it helped rid her of some of the fog clinging to the edges of her mind. 

“But you didn’t,” she stated, firmly. “We’re fine. You’re fine.” They weren’t okay overall, but Zack had just singed his sheets. She wasn’t the most knowledgeable about spellcasters, needed to brush up on the subject, but she knew emotions had an effect on magic. In the morning, she would look into getting him a new set and getting a fire extinguisher for the apartment. She could ask Teagan to help her check their detector, too, and start digging into anything she could find on elemental casting– maybe ask Leah for a bit of help. Arden certainly wasn’t an expert and her arm would slow her down, but Leah might be more familiar, probably had some helpful books somewhere, too. 

I should go. The words sent a bolt of anxiety through her. “Zack…” The idea of being too far from either of them after everything that had happened the past few days made her feel physically sick. She had been so scared, so worried for them, had been convinced she would have to watch her friends be turned into monsters, and she was still so worried. Being separated at the hospital had been torturous enough, she just wanted to be able to keep an eye on them, keep them close, make sure they were safe. Finally being home, being able to do that, had been comforting. 

Arden didn’t want Zack to go anywhere, but she also didn’t want to keep him if he needed the space. She couldn’t be selfish– not with them, not right now. But this felt more like isolation than needing space. This felt like Emilio apologizing to her, holding the weight of the heavens on his shoulders. It felt like Metzli calling themself a monster, leaving her on read, like Teagan trying to push her away for her own safety. It felt like her, pained and grieving and guilty, leaving this town and everyone she knew behind. Maybe that was just her own fear and paranoia, her own insecurities and selfishness blinding her– she didn’t know. Then again, when did she ever?

“Please don’t– We’re okay.” Please don’t leave. She was nothing if not a hypocrite. 

—

Once, seemingly a lifetime ago, Wynne had been a beacon of comfort and hope. An entire commune looked at them to be their savior, their martyr, the one destined to give the ultimate sacrifice for all of them. People looked at them, for some kind of guidance, thought there to be something special abut their touch or even their sheer presence. And though now, these days, they didn’t want to think of it any more, there was something of that person left, wasn’t there? A person who could park their own emotions and qualms for those of another.

There had no room for faltering there. No room for weakness or fear of death — if their sacrificial lamb were to start bleating in fear, what was to stop the rest of the community from doing so? And if they gave into the part of them that was afraid of Zack’s powers now, what was to stop them from somehow worsening this situation?

Repression came natural. Wanting to appease and comfort did too. And besides, they wanted their love for Zack to outweigh their fear of what he might do. Wynne looked at him with some kind of understanding. “I get them too.” Though there had been less of them since Ariadne had joined their side. “It’s okay to be upset.” 

But was it, if being upset meant setting your bed on fire? Was it, when it made him look so afraid of something he had done himself? Was Arden thinking of that last day in the basement too, when everything had burned, the bodies of the vampires as well as the humans that had fallen?  They didn’t want to be afraid of Zack, the same way they didn’t want to be afraid of anything but fear was hard-wired in her body. 

At least Arden was there. At least here, Wynne wasn’t alone the way they had been back at home. “She’s right, it didn’t happen. Nothing happened!” 

He couldn’t leave, not now that they were all back again. Now that things were attempting to get back to normal, as their wounds grew into scars and there was sometimes – when the birds chirped in the morning – even a distant feeling of normalcy until they truly woke. “You can’t go? Where would you even go that’s … that’s better than here?” Was there a place where he’d feel safer? Wynne couldn’t imagine a place better than here, with them, with the door tightly locked and their presence warming the home.

—

It seemed Arden had been right to worry. For once, she despised the fact that she was right. 

They had spoken a little longer, decided to all try to get some more sleep, talk in the morning. She had thought Zack might need to take some time for himself, maybe stay with Levi or crash at the motel or inn, something. It would be difficult to be separated from him after what they had been through, after she had been convinced the three of them would meet the same horrifying fate in that basement, but she could, she would, give him whatever space he needed. They had been moments away from death, from watching each other die, it was doing a number on all of them, and she didn’t have pyrokinetic abilities to worry about.

She hadn’t expected to find a goodbye note. 

Arden really hadn’t expected Zack, of all people, to break her heart. 

She had no leg to stand on, either. She couldn’t manage to fan the smoldering embers of anger into a full on flame, as she sat on the floor in front of the scorched mattress reading and rereading the same words. Was this how Leah felt when I shut her out? When I left? It was all she kept thinking as she fell apart all over again. 

She hadn’t even known Zack that long, but they had just clicked in that wonderful way that just happened sometimes. After the loss of her dad and Jo, she had been so devastated that she gave up, shut down. She closed herself off for so long, keeping people at a distance, sinking back into the familiar ache of loneliness until it became unbearable, until she began to drown. It was only after she returned, needing answers, needing closure, that she was able to breach the surface again. It was only after Leah that she finally started to give people a chance again, finally started to let them in. And Zack had been one of the first.

It was only right then that he would be the first to really hurt her, too. 

Arden couldn’t even hold it against him, the bastard. Sure, she was a hypocrite, but more than anything, she just wanted him to be okay. She needed him to be okay, wherever he was. And if he ever returned, she knew she would welcome him back with open arms, just as Leah had done for her. 

#wickedswriting #writing #collab #zackbanes #wr zack #ohwynne #wr wynne #We love you Chayya <3

[merrock]

event: Volunteer Week

location: around Merrcok

ic timeline: April 24 - 28

ooc timeline: April 22 - 30

Merrock's a town known for giving back… which is why we're spending an entire week doing just that! We have some suggestions for places that you can spend time volunteering, but you're not completely limited to these if you have some ideas of things around town that you would like to do yourself!

cityview park -- spend some time cleaning around the historic park in downtown Merrock.

hospital center -- dedicate your time to doing whatever it is that the staff might need your help with.

merrock railway -- do some clean up along our very own rail system in town, keeping it sparkly and new. ish.

aquatic conservatory -- help the conservatory staff out with feeding and looking after the many wonderful sea creatures.

the lighthouse -- spend some time volunteering to help clean up the area surrounding the lighthouse.

the marina -- help boat owners with tours and cleaning up around the docks.

the swimming beach -- every beach is always in need of a little bit of cleaning!

aster playground -- that playground equipment might need some work, get repairs done, clean up the flower beds!

community center -- there are always a million things to do at the center to help out.

memorial library -- help our team of librarians with whatever they need.

new haven daycare -- visit the youngest kids and volunteer to help with their needs!

ruff around park -- do a little tidying and cleaning up and play with puppies!

school district -- help out with various tasks that need done around the elementary, middle or high school.

animal sanctuary -- help our workers with the animals that need them the most.

harmony ranch -- spend time embracing your inner cowboy… or cleaning out some stalls!

lake malory -- keeping our lake clean and pristine is a big goal for this year… go ahead and help out!

paradise gardens -- help take care of the many, many plants in our own botanical garden, and learn something along the way.

state park -- there's always something to do around the state park to help out!

And! If you hop under the cut right now, you will find the pair-offs that you're looking for. A thread must be started sometime during the duration of the event with your partner. Check it out.

A thread must be started between April 22nd and April 28th of some character combination planting a tree, anywhere in Merrock! The thread does not need to be completed during that time frame -- you can continue writing it after the event has ended, but we do ask that you guys please not just drop the thread, or only do one or two replies before giving up. Plant your tree! If a player plays multiple characters, you are welcome to choose any pairing, but try to make it unique (in other words, if you've written before, avoid that pairing).

If you are assigned to someone who is inactive, or does not reply to you within a couple of days, please reach out to the admin team. We'll work with you!

Steph (Katherine, Thalia) & Nani (Diana)

Grace (Rosalie) & Myr (Amanda)

Mags (Cassidy) & Nikki (Ember)

Chayya (Marlow) & Anna (Sylvia, Reyna, Jayla, Alec, Wes, Cori, Cathy, Espie)

Frankie (Deacon, Ravi) & Erin (Lara, Mandy, Bryan, Jamie, Vince, Mekelah, Joella, Alice)

Jen (Tommy) & Nessa (Mateo, Zoey, Chloe, Yesenia, Libby, Xander, Jennifer)

Maria (Vitus) & Bri (Cordelia, Eliza, Fallon, Spencer, Emeline, Marquis, Vivienne, Ramsey)

MOD NOTE: as you may notice, admin Katie and admin Lindsey are not on the list. The reason for this is that we know things happen: players need to take a hiatus, someone goes inactive, emergencies crop up, life happens sometimes! We are on stand-by to step in and replace anyone who can not participate. With both of us playing eight characters, there's a very good chance we have not written with you in one way or another, and we are happy to step up and help! But we will also be doing plot/thread calls and/or open starters, so we will be just as involved as you, promise! xx

#merrockevent

[shyshitter]

i missed @sweatercas’s bday but this ficlet of theirs made me insane so i drew this

#CHAYYA UR WRITING ALWAYS MAKES ME CRAZY #happy belated bday!! #spn #spn art #my art #supernatural #supernatural art #castiel #castiel art

[valleydean]

Wild West City

Deancas, word count: 1,070 Summary: Cas and Dean take their children, Claire and Jack, to a Wild West theme park. It’s the best day of Dean’s life. Happy birthday, Chayya! @sweatercas

“Daddy, I wanna go on the ponies again!” Jack squealed, nearly flinging himself out of Castiel’s arms in his excitement.

“No way,” Claire argued. “We’re going on the train ride next!”​ She was clutching Dean’s hand so as to not be swept up in the crowd around them. Dean was very seriously scrutinizing the map in the theme park’s brochure in his other hand.

That bright summer morning, they’d woken up earlier than Castiel would have liked to drive two hours north to Sussex County, New Jersey’s Wild West City: a quaint and modest tourist attraction, if it could even be called such a thing, that was supposedly an exact replica of Dodge City, KS in the 1800s. (Though, how they knew that, Castiel had no idea.) Over the winter, Dean had heard about the park from another parent at one of the school’s PTA meetings. He went home and reserved tickets, four months in advance, and hadn’t stopped talking about it since.

Castiel suspected Dean was even more excited than the kids were.

And, finally, there they stood, on a boardwalk in front of a dining hall called the Golden Nugget Saloon, which boasted all the best meals the Wild West’s had to offer - like mozzarella sticks and pizza.

Jack and Claire were both donned in button-down cow print shirts, jeans, cowboy boots, mini-wool hats, and bright red bandanas which were tied around their necks. Dean was in a similarly themed attire, but his boots were much more expensive. His western-style shirt was black with metal collar tips, and he was wearing a bolo tie in the shape of a longhorn skull.

And then there was his cowboy hat.

That hat. He’d had it for years. Castiel wasn’t used to seeing it outside the bedroom. He should have known Dean would have found any excuse to wear it.

As for himself, he’d blatantly refused wasting money on attire he’d never wear again, but Dean did convince him to put on a “straw” hat from the costume shop in town. It was something he regretted, because the cheap plastic mixed with the heat of the day was making his head itch.

The things he did for love.

So far, they’d seen three shows that had taken place on the bleached-dirt street in between the rows of souvenir shops and museums: a gunslinger show, where two actors had a typical Hollywood-style shootout; a cowboy competition, in which a group of men and women lassoed horses; and a stagecoach hold up. The last was admittedly entertaining because Jack was chosen to participate as one of the “heroes” alongside the town “sheriff” in stopping the robbery, and Castiel took nearly three dozen photos of it with his phone. They’d also gone to the petting zoo, where there was a pig named Annie Oinkley, and the Native American museum in an attempt on Castiel’s part to have the children learn something. All that, plus the aforementioned pony rides.

There was, apparently, still plenty to do.

“Relax, we’ll get to all that good stuff,” Dean promised. He crudely folded the map back up with one hand and shoved it into his pocket. He had his game plan face on when his eyes met Castiel’s. “I figure next we can head over the jailhouse to get our photos taken in costume while most people are still eating lunch. Then we can hit up the blacksmith, and we’ll still have plenty of time before the Gunfight at the OK Corral.”

Castiel’s frown deepened. “That didn’t happen in Dodge City. It was in Tombstone.” He only knew that because Dean had made him watch the movie approximately a hundred times during the course of their marriage.

Dean pulled a noncommittal face and shrugged. “Close enough.” This, coming from the man who vehemently avoided the Doc Holliday museum because it had more to do with Old West medical science than dentistry, and Dean refused to take part in such gross misinformation.

Jack began wiggling in Castiel’s hold again, so Castiel set him down. He immediately went to Claire and grabbed her hand, tugging at her. “C’mon, let’s go to jail!” he said happily. The two scampered off in that direction. Castiel couldn’t help but smile fondly after them.

“Saw that,” Dean teased, glee in his eyes when Castiel looked back at him. He was pointing at Castiel’s mouth. “Told ya you’d have fun.”

Castiel bit down on his lip, trying to suppress a chuckle. “It’s something... different,” he allowed. “And the kids seem to be having fun.” He was having fun, too, but not because of the theme park. Claire and Jack were enjoying themselves, and Dean was glowing from the inside out with child-like exuberance. If Castiel could bottle the sparkle in Dean’s eyes, he’d wear it by a chain around his neck and never take it off.

His phone was on 15% battery, because he’d taken a lot more pictures and videos that day than just the stagecoach robbery.

“Good different?” Dean asked, brows popping.

Castiel nodded. “Good different.”

“Good, because we’re coming back every year until we die.”

Castiel tried to roll his eyes just to keep up appearances.

Dean hummed happily, his fingertips brushing against Castiel’s at their sides before he dipped in and pecked a kiss to the corner of Castiel’s mouth. It made Castiel’s hat tip back fractionally. “Thanks for humoring me, sweetheart.”

The gentleness of it, paired with the sincerity in Dean’s voice, caused a flutter in Castiel’s chest. “Of course,” Castiel told him, voice barely above a whisper and getting lost in the chatter of the crowd. Twelve years later, and Dean could still make him speechless, so of course Castiel would humor him. He’d do anything for Dean.

He threaded his fingers through Dean’s and told him, “I’m your huckleberry.”

Dean flushed slightly, smile becoming impossibly brighter. Those words were something else that was rarely brought out in public.

“Alright, come on,” Dean said, grasping Castiel’s hand tighter and pulling him after the kids. “We better catch up before they get themselves thrown into a Wild West jail for real.”

“Of course,” Castiel said again, playing along. “You’d be too jealous.”

“Hell yeah! That’d be so cool!”

The bright, warm sun beat down on them as they walked through the trail dust.

Dean took a glance at Castiel’s jeans and t-shirt and told him, “You’re gonna need a better outfit for the photo. Don’t worry. I’ll pick out something authentic.”

///

Tagged: @herowilson @donestiel @wanderingcas @thetiredstuff @skella-bro @casthegrumpy @celestialcastiel @bluefirecas @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @that-one-fandom-chick @haru-park96 @alejandriaiqq @no-aesthetic-all-aethetic @amirosebooks @epple-benene @wanderingcas @agus-likes @the-ship-haz-sailed @justkissalreadyforfucksake @madimoo31 @an-angel-in-love-with-a-hunter @gracelesstars @bazghetti @wayward-waffles @theojaxons @jenmishrob @all-or-nothing-baby @auttownblue @leftistdean @sargafust @wannabe-loser @jessalrynn @splicedthoughts @castielss @that-dumbass-on-a-horse @passionfruixts @fabreagab @princesswinchester100 @superduckbatrebel @hopefuldreamers-world@theangelwiththewormstache @casandeans @unamusedelipsis @mylovelydame21 @confusedisaster @superduckbatrebel @destielwentcanonomg @highest-brightness @i-put-the-ayyy-in-asexual @darkacademiagay @imthedoctorlove @freckledean @youcanteverknowenough @chicken-kebabs @myguardianangelisatrickster @hotactiongirlcoded @wingsandimpalas @casandhumanity @tploz @starlightoffandoms @dontsgotalifee389 @on-a-bender @lilac-void @castiel-mybeloved @siriusseverusdeservedbetter @doctorprofessorsong

#sweatercas #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #spn #supernatural #my writing #i went back on my ''i'm your huckleberry'' rule because the situation called for it #and i have no morals #happy birthday chayya - my fellow western movie buff bff #i wrote this for you but also for me

[onlyonekenobi]

happy birthday, chayya @sweatercas!! 💕 a little jo and deancas being snarky besties for you (with some bonus jobenny mentions) 💖🎉

"Oh, Deano, we're home!" a song-song voice echoed from the top of the stairs.

The loud thunk of the metal door closing made itself known, but it wasn't quite enough to drown out the greeting.

As Dean appeared below them, he called back, "Sorry, what was that? I think someone in Arkansas might not have heard you!"

Jo shot him a look before trotting down the stairs, Cas close behind her. "Honestly," Dean went on, "I don't think noise that loud should be able to come out of a person your size."

"Yeah, well," she quipped back, throwing a duffle bag down onto the table, "I've never been one to follow protocol." Dean rolled his eyes and snatched up the duffle to unpack it. "How'd it go?" he asked, addressing them both.

"Fairly straight forward," Cas supplied. "The shtriga was easy enough to pin down once we spoke to the families."

"Your boy here makes a great fake husband," Jo cut in, giving Cas a playful elbow to the ribs. "Yeah?" Dean smirked. "Makes an even better real one."

Cas smiled fondly as Dean pulled him over for a kiss on the cheek. Jo feigned retching even as her eyes sparkled with laughter.

"Really though," she chuckled, "it was an easy one. In and out and 'bye-bye monster.' Any hang ups on your end?"

"Nada." Dean moved back towards the duffle bag. "HQ ain't really my thing, but if you two keep up like this, we'll have to send Sam and Eileen on vacation more often."

Jo snorted, boosting herself up to sit on the table as Cas moved to help Dean unpack. "Uh huh," she mused. "Good luck getting him to lay off the books for more than a week. He goes reverse stir crazy when he isn't here."

Dean chuckled, and there was silence.

"I'd be happy to take a shift, though," Jo went on after several moments. "Like next week or something, if you needed it." Her voice was a little too casual; Dean leveled a look at her.

"And I don't suppose you'd be aware that one Mr. Benny LaFitte volunteered his time for next week, huh? That’s just a happy coincidence for you?"

He felt more than saw Cas fighting a grin next to him as Jo struggled violently against a blush.

"So?" she snapped. "What, you don't trust a girl and a monster to run things here? Worried we'll ruin the integrity of your precious little fort-"

"I'm worried you'll ruin the b-"

Dean was unable to finish his retort as a tin of rock salt connected squarely with his jaw.

"Jesus, Jo!"

"It was nearly empty," she shrugged with defiant nonchalance.

Dean rounded, pointing a stern finger at Cas, who was no longer able to bite down his laughter.

"Watch it, mister."

Cas bit his lip as he worked to stifle the last of it; Dean huffed out a sigh and looked back to Jo, defeated.

"Just watch yourself hanging around these mythical creatures, okay?" He popped another kiss onto Cas's cheek and stage whispered, "I hear they can get real clingy-"

He ducked as a handful of empty shells came flying through the air towards his head.

#destiel #deancas #jo harvelle #ficlet #fic #just writing #jobenny #HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHAYYA MWAH <3

[lizstiel]

ask and ye shall receive~

#mine #my art #twin au #spn #supernatural #jack #bel #claire novak #cas #dadstiel #im writing im writing!!!!! #((((and yes dean is in this au ofc)))) #((((also benny/jo and sam/eileen)))) #bel will only sit on benny's shoulders tyvm ((chayya i havent stopped thinking about it....ur mind....))

[lordgolden]

do you have any fic recs for underrated fics? like under 5k hits?

yes! there are a ton of fics in my bookmarks with less than 5k hits, so it was difficult to choose a reasonable amount. here are some of my favorites:

in this louisiana bar, where s10 cas meets s1 Dean and offers him some nice reassurance and comfort. very sweet. I recommend ANYTHING by fleeceframe in general, I love the way they write Dean and Cas. another underrated fleeceframe fav of mine is it's such a mystery (the way you know me)

*hold onto your voice, hold onto your breath, I cannot BELIEVE this fic has less than 5k hits. Dean rescues Cas from the Empty. Orpheus and Eurydice vibes (in a way). The writing is beautiful. Absolutely love this fic.

On Other Seas by aeli_kindara (another fav author of mine) which is a cute, feel good post-canon fic with toddler!jack and dinosaurs :) sequel to the equally as amazing In Small Ponds.

thunder road, which technically has more than 5k hits (5.9k) but I love this fic so much!!! dean and cas post-canon road trip. incredible vibes.

hope, love, glory a post-canon fic where Claire and Jack team up to save their dads

something's gotta give which I thought was an excellent lebanon rewrite fic

Nothing More Than a Shattered Mirror, widower arc, baby!jack, and claire. check out sickandtiredofyou's other works for baby jack :)

in the dark, a short fic where dean confesses and the lights burst :')

swimming with the fish pond fish, post-canon fic where cas brings dean back to life and keeps casually dropping "I love you" (love that trope)

mourning and popcorn, sam and cas friendship my beloved

what a terrible world, what a beautiful world a divorce arc fic where dean fixes his relationship with cas. good dean & jack content as well.

miracles happen by my beloved @bijoharvelle. outsider POV of Miracle's vet office :) I recommend ANYTHING by Chayya. here is their ao3

by your ancient names, a short cas character study. cas lore! come get ur cas lore!!!

Epistolary oh I love this one. cas leaving dean notes around the bunker

a handful of seeds a short plant dad cas fic

as always- and more importantly here because these fics do not have many hits- be sure to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoy one of these fics to show authors some love <3

#this one got a lot longer than I thought it would lo #rec list #fic rec #destiel fanfic #destiel #supernatural

[occult-castiel]

Wow guys. What a year. Sorry if this is long, but I want to take a minute to appreciate some of the good things this year gave me

This fandom has been the one thing to really get me through it, especially these last few months. I'm so thankful for all of you. Like unimaginably so. I honestly don't know where I'd be without this little light the fandom has given me.

Thank you to the friends/mutuals I've made, the people I've followed, and those who have made art and writing and beautiful things. I see you and I appreciate you so much

First off I have to say I really appreciate @goindowninablazeofmisha and @rainbowscas you two are special and deserve your own little section here as well as below 💙💕💙💕💙💕

Of course a big virtual hug to my spn puppet pals!!! @friedchickenangelwings @dreamnovak @good-things-do-happen-dean @caswasthenail @joharvele @tearsofgrace @lizstiel @contemplativepancakes @heller-jensen

You guys have been great, and I've really loved being apart of the group. You're all mad creative and I LOVE YOU. Clara, sophie, mae -- you guys make awesome fics, and are really chill to hang out with. And James I adore the way you think, your metas were so fun and you're a really great guy!! Ofc Marlo has the most Iconic blog of all and I instantly fell in love with it, and chayya has really good takes and I appreciate the voice of reason vibes in the world of nonsense that is spn lol. All of you are awesome

Some mutuals I adore! (And a side dose of double tag for a few personalized messages)

@goindowninablazeofmisha

I love you. What more can I say? Literal angel in the fandom. Your main blog might be alltheprettygirlsintheworld, but I dont need to be in the same room as you to know you're the prettiest inside and out. You've been amazing to have around and I'm looking forward to having you in my 2021 💙

@rainbowscas

You're the first friend I made around here, and interacting with you has been lovely. Your blog is quality, your takes are great, you have a nice and calming presence -- it's been a joy. Thank you for being around and being you. Clowning with you was awesome and I'd be just as feral again in a heartbeat💍💕💕

@duckyboos-blog

God. Thank you so much for all the writing you've done this year. It's probably saved scraps of my sanity when ireally needed the distraction, and what an amazing distraction it was!!! I cant count how many times I've went back to reread part of bbhmm, an n1c was so much fun to follow live! You seem super sharp, and I look forward to any creative endeavours you may give us in 2021 💖

@one-more-offbeat-anthem

You've been a sweetie and seems so chill. I dig your vibes and appreciate you! I cant put my finger on it but you are simply friend-shaped

@fancat-not-fangirl

I love you!! You have great taste in music and have 💯👌 reblogs, and are just generally very nice and if anyone is ever mean to you I will personally make sure it never happens again, okay?

@contemplativepancakes

Thank you so much for being nice to me and giving me some fic recs and whatnot when I needed it. I'm really grateful ty so so much 😭

@redstalkingdeath

You were really the first person I interacted with in this corner of tumblr, and it really made me feel good about being in the fandom <3

@feelslikeacactus

You're funny, I love your blog, I think we'd be super compatible if we ever hung out. Def one of my favorite mutuals

@starrynightdeancas

God, you are a bundle of light!!! I want to pitch your cheeks you're so cute. Thank you for all of the work you put in with your writing and just generally being a joy

@casisalamp

You're iconic. I love reading your tags, your posts. It's all so good and everyone go hit follow right now!!! Its been a pleasure ❤

I could go on, but for brevity (and my thumbs) sake, I'll just tag some really great blogs that I love/appreciate:

@rambleoncas @depressivedemonnightmaredean @manicpixiedreamcas @antifacas @jellydeans @freckledean @jackttwist @chaoticdean @updeans @eclypseaf @heliodean @rauko-is-a-free-elf @diminuel @casthewise @casgirl

Thank you!!

#thank you all!!!

[bijoharvelle]

"Cas," Dean gasps out. His hands are scrabbling over Cas's coat -- that fucking coat -- and there's remnants of the Empty still surging over them. Sluicing off them like sentient darkness. "Cas. You were really dead," he says, voice sounding choked.

His one hand is clenched so tightly in the lapel of Cas's trench coat, but the other is drifting up. Gentle and hesitant, running fingers over the crest of Cas's cheek, the shallow of his undereyes.

"Yes," Cas answers. He casts his eyes to the side where Sam is stomping on the little tendrils of oil-slick black, like they're spiders. They plume into smoke and then vanish. He looks down at his hands and Dean remembers being in a storage container with blood on his lip, stomach cancer just healed and the angel before him. He remembers--

"How am I back?"

His eyes meet Cas's and he brings his other hand up. Fully cupping the angel's face, he says, "I came for you." It's important to him, that Cas understands this, understand what he means.

Cas nods and looks down at his knees. They're more or less sprawled on the floor, but Dean needs Cas to understand. He urges Cas's attention back to him, eyes on eyes.

"I came for you," Dean says again, words thick. "I came for you. I got you. I pulled you out." When Castiel first laid a hand on him in hell he was lost and Dean needs Cas to understand that it's the same for him. "Cas..."

Thankfully, Cas doesn't allow him to struggle further. Something catches in his eyes and he leans forward. Their foreheads meet, noses bump. They don't kiss, not really, but their lips nudge and they both exhale.

#i saw that gifset from 501 and had feelings #destiel #deancas #destiel ficlet #deancas ficlet #spnclownpals #chayya writes

[angeltiddies]

chayya didn't write that dean post btw (don't mean to be rude just wanted to let u know)

AHHH hahaha everyone has fucking purple icons im so sorry 😂😂😂😂😂😂

#im..a dumbass....i wanna....die

[merrock]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Emily VanCamp

full name: Marlowe Shay Newman

nicknames / goes by: Marls, Marley

pronouns & gender: she/her; cis woman

sexuality: bisexual

birth date: March 12, 1985

birth place: Merrock, Maine

arrival to merrock: local; returned spring 2020

housing: previously downtown; currently countryside

occupation: journalism

work place: Merrock Times; Newman Family Farm

family: second eldest of the Newman family

relationship status: single

PERSONALITY

+ friendly, compassionate, easy-going - guarded, overbearing, flighty

Marlow is an easy-going people-pleaser. She doesn’t like to make a fuss or make waves. She’s everyone’s friend, or at least tries to be, striking up conversations when in town and trying to include everyone when at an event. The oldest daughter of the Newmans, Marlow has always been something of the social matriarch of the family. She plays the role of good-natured girl-next-door easily. 

In private, she’s a little goofier, with more of an intense edge. Despite all the good will Marlow throws around, she doesn’t have many close friends. She never needed them, really, with her siblings always around. She’s cagey when people try to get closer than a social acquaintance and doesn’t trust easily despite seeming to be “everyone’s friend.” She can be stubborn, set in her idea of what would be best – even if she defers easily in a social situation, she’ll privately complain. 

WRITTEN BY: Chayya (she/her & they/them), est.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: parental illness/death, some gendered occupational discrimination

Growing up, Marlow was always “one of the Newmans.” While being lumped into a group like that might cause others to feel resentment, Marlow loved it. She loved always being part of something, always being thought of in relation to her family – she loved her family. The second oldest, Marlow took on a kind of ownership of the Newmans as her clan, a sentiment that only intensified when her mother died. 

Though only nine at the time of their mother’s passing, Marlow was the second eldest and the eldest daughter. While her father became somewhat focused on the baby, Marlow banded with Kellan to take care of the rest of their little troop. Most of that time, Marlow’s formative years, blur together in a mess of sorting out lunches and grocery trips, tending to the farm and the house, making sure that everyone else got what they needed. She pushed herself to never be a problem, to always be perfect. She helped her father with the farm and the baby, helped Kellan with the house and the other kids, she excelled at school.

Through high school, Marlow was reluctant to join clubs. She had plenty of friends in a variety of after-school commitments, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was needed at home. In middle school, when after-school clubs were mostly free childcare, she had been in cheerleading and soccer, music lessons and art clubs. She left those behind in high school, only joining the school newspaper and yearbook club in junior year, to add to her transcript for college.  

When that time did come for college, Marlow knew she would have to stay close. She couldn’t imagine leaving her family and even if she could, Kellan had already made his way to the West Coast with his scholarship. So Marlow made plans for a local college and took classes that she thought would be practical: accounting, business, composition. She found herself enjoying the writing classes most of all, and slowly built on the idea of journalism as a future. She could see herself enjoying that - helping people through her writing, developing a voice of her own.

After college, Marlow had her eye set on the Merrock Times, or maybe the local station. But by then, their family’s baby was nearing sixteen years old. Old enough that she didn’t need the constant attention she had before. Their father had seen how Marlow kept herself close to home to help the family and urged her to go out, to see what else the world had for her. And Marlow did what so many recent grads with big dreams did – she moved to New York City.

The early years were hard, but fun. Marlow was living in a series of tiny apartments shared with too many people, interning for pennies at whatever magazines or newspapers would take her. Whenever she shared that her dream was to write investigative features, to change the world with her reporting, she got scoffed or laughed at. The response was either cynical or personally disparaging. After all, she was just a pretty little blonde. Good enough to get the coffee and take meeting minutes, but not much else. Marlow pushed, as much as she dared, and the editors pushed back. Wouldn’t she rather write shopping listicles? Society pages? Fashion trends? Hadn’t she worked on a farm – would she like to do recipes or gardening articles?

After five years paying her dues, Marlow had landed a decent job, salaried at a mid-sized, respected newspaper. She could afford an apartment on her own, and she settled into her life. She visited home often, checking on the younger siblings and spending long hours on the phone with Kellan and Cage especially, her bookend brothers. She got a few promotions and was given more freedom to pursue her own pitches, investigations, and feature ideas – writing about corrupt corporations and tectonic shifts in the fabric of social justice. She was coming up on bigger and better things, gaining credibility. Her editor gave her more leeway and more support, her producer who protected her and her team. 

And then it all came crashing down. She got the call that her father wasn’t doing well. The diagnosis was terminal and Marlow knew what she had to do. It wasn’t even a question. She gave notice at her job, she packed up her nice apartment, and she moved back to Merrock, back into the farmhouse she grew up in.

She’s still there, now, her and Kellan together, and Cage not far off. Marlow is more or less still adjusting to her grief and the new order of things. She helps around the house and when it comes to getting the farm back up and running. She spends time with her nephew and his little band of animals, gives her brothers a hard time, runs into people from her childhood and adolescence in town. And, just recently, she accepted a position at the Merrock Times, solidifying the fact that this move back home is permanent.

#merrockbio #marlownewman #death tw #parental death tw

[shyshitter]

ava i’ve been v sad the past week or more but every time one of your fanart posts pops up on my dash it makes me so happy so thank u for that

CHAYYA, you have no idea how much this means to me given i read your writings whenever i need to feel something

#ur writings are literally perfection and they make me insane i hope you know this #i can’t believe tumblr user joharvele is in my inbox #asks

[mishha]

🍓 :D

hiiii chayya! i’m quite new to the spn tumblr, your blog was one of the first i’ve come across and i’ve loved it ever since!! your undying love for jo and adam is so relatable and also i really really love your writing and if school wasn’t on my ass i would’ve already started your soft summer series (omg man i want to so bad) also your halloween username SLAPS. i’m truly happy to be mutuals with u, keep being amazing!!

mutuals send me a 🍓 and i’ll compliment you

#joharvele #sweatercas #answered

[aturnoftheearth]

🍓

CHAYYA!!! okay even before we were mutuals, you were a mutual-in-law i yearned to be mutuals with because i absolutely adored your writing aksjdkdkkf like i didn’t want to come off as crazy but i would regularly go through your writing tag and go insane i think you’re SUCH a talented writer oh my gosh

mutuals send me a 🍓 and i’ll compliment u!!

#ask game #asks

[lizstiel]

hellooo!!! came here to ask, if i made fan art of your twin au what would you say? 👉👈🥺

thanks kindly! love your drawings💞

HELLO!!!! PLEASE there's no need to ask!! draw as much as you want! ((this isn't anyone's like, intellectual property or anything, it was just chayya and I going feral in dms!! so draw and write to your hearts content please!!)) I would ask that you send me the finished product so I may scream with you but other than that go nuts man!!!

#very sweet of you to ask though thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️ #cant wait to see what you make!!!!! #twin au #spn #saarahisabels