writing: crowley

drawing: replies

would you rather fuck me or kill me?

make love not war

Flower Crowns Ficlet

(Apparently I wrote this a long time ago, when this blog first got off the ground. I don’t remember writing it, so this is probably the time to submit without fear. Much love.) 

“You remember the first person you ever killed?” 

“Come on Cas, no.” 

Castiel pressed a sticky finger onto the side of Dean’s face. Dean flinched from the cold, but remained in place. 

“Why are we doing this again?” 

Castiel let out a small stream of air to get the glue tacky, then picked a dissected white heather petal from the bunch, pressing it to Dean’s temple and rocking his thumb back and forth. “I already answered that Dean.” 

It became a rhythm, the rush of air and the wet sticky sound of the glue Castiel squeezed, the thump of the bottle as it hit the counter, the quiet fingering of the petals, the sound amplified when the petal met Dean’s toasted skin. Castiel’s fingers shook. 

“Take a break Cas.”

“The artist never rests.” Dean let out a breathy chuckle.  “What a load of shit.” 

“The first person you ever saw die.” 

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Truth or Dare, Dean. Answer the question or fuck me.” 

There was a beat as Dean scrunched his eyebrows together. “Are you high again?”

Castiel pulled back from the flower arrangement on Dean’s face to look him full in the eye briefly, then placed a shaky hand on Dean’s neck. “You tell me.” 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t shoot him. I didn’t even look at him. He went down and then I walked.” 

“You walked?” 

“Off the field I guess. I don’t really remember.”

“Why didn’t you look at him?” 

“I wanted my feet to hurt. That’s all I remember. And the blisters. The blisters were incredible.” 

Castiel placed a final petal in his tear duct, which was glistening.

“Truth and Dare. You still have to fuck me.” 


a ficlet for casamacy's flowercrowns AU


Trying to hold onto Cas was like gathering water in a sieve: it invariably slipped away. And yet there was always the tiniest bit clinging to the wire mesh, a lingering suggestion of a desire fulfilled.

Half the time Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to keep trying. The other half of the time he tried…

More often than not, when Dean was lonely, he ended up talking to Cas on the phone.

Cas was usually high, since Dean was usually lonely at night. Cas smoked more frequently at night, Dean had noticed – what marijuana had to do with the position of the sun, though, he wasn’t sure.


it’s been a while

don't you update this blog anymore? i loved it...

I’ve been intending to for a while. The inspiration hasn’t quite come. Don’t lose hope though.

Have you finished/will you post the ficlet with Crowley you mentioned a while back? I'm just curious about his role in the story 'cause I'm a Crowley stan, haha, and what you said sounded so interesting. I love this au c:

he has a very interesting role in the story! I have it, like, half written, and I’ll do the rest after I’ve fulfilled my dcbb obligations (I saw your other ask, I just thought I’d give you a time frame ❤)



I don’t know why
Keep making me laugh
Let’s go get high
The road is long, we carry on
Try to have fun in the meantime


castiel   / charlie / photog © Niew Photography /