13 Works by goforthetitle
Listing Works
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His phone vibrates in his pocket and he fishes it out. One message from Eddie:
I know you’re still spinning out about Gerrard. Come over if you need a distraction. Whatever time it is. And yes, Buck, I mean it.
Buck’s heart clenches at the last line - how well Eddie knows him. How much he needs to hear that from Eddie right now.
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Or: the OCD!Buck fic.
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Buck had been right, last year. Eddie is an ally. One of his buddies in basic training had been gay. And Mills never said anything outright, but Eddie was pretty sure she had fit into… one of the letters, Eddie wasn’t sure which, not that it mattered. And his family - the 118 and their families - was full of people of all identities. He supported them all. That’s what friends do. What allies do.
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Or: Eddie, still reeling from the loss of Christopher, goes to the LA Pride Parade and finds himself unable to continue avoiding the truth about his feelings for Buck.
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“I would think this would be an important holiday, Dean,” Cas says, staring at Dean with his head tilted slightly to the right, blue eyes fixed on him.
“Honestly, man, I’ve never given it much thought,” Dean replies with a shrug.
“But you’ve saved the earth. Multiple times,” Cas continues, amused.
“Right. Did my part on the whole saving the planet. I really think I’m all set,” he says, knowing that he’s fighting a losing battle here.
He is, after all, already outside of their modest lakeside cabin, gardening gloves on, and shovel in hand.
He sighs.
“How many trees are we planting, Cas?”
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Cas wants to celebrate Earth Day and Dean obliges.
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we didn't happen the way we were supposed to by goforthetitle
Fandoms: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
23 Sep 2023
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“I have done a poor job of showing you what you mean to me.”
Nandor has been finding excuses to touch Guillermo all day. Perhaps the time has come to cease making excuses. His fingertips trail over Guillermo’s skin, the lightest of touches, as Nandor fears one false move on his part will break the spell.
Guillermo looks back at him with confusion, but he has not rejected his touch.
“You - Mean to you?”
Nandor’s hand trails up to cradle Guillermo’s jaw, thumb padding in little reassuring strokes.
“Laszlo was correct, you know. We vampires are not so skilled at expressing how we feel.”
“How you… feel?”
“But even without the words, I have failed to show you. I hope you will grant me the chance to absolve myself of this.”
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What if instead of an apocalypse, the big show down was a bake off?
It's season four/five - but instead of Supernatural, it's a baking reality TV show. Dean, PA extraordinaire, is assigned to help last minute sub-in contestant Castiel. Dean wants to help Cas win, but there are other plans in place for them.
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“You know, you could have worn my spare hat I had back at the bunker,” Dean grumbles, pushing away his restless thoughts and turning his attention back to the road. He had tried to convince Cas to grab one of his hats before they left, to no success.
“This is important to you,” Cas states slowly, confused, but not actually questioning.
“Well, yeah,” Dean says firmly. “Looking the part is part of the job. You know that.”
Cas hums noncommittally under Dean’s gaze.
This won’t be the last of this conversation.
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Cas, searching online for any sign of Chuck, stumbles upon 100K of Dean/Cas fanfic.
Written in celebration of the 100K mark and with love to all the fanfic writers out there.
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“I was there when those were put into being,” Cas says quietly, tracing his finger across the darkened backdrop of the sky from one bright blueish-white star (“Vega,” he whispers next to Dean’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine) and draws a line down to another bright dot, near the horizon (“and Altair,” with another hushed tone that draws out an excited shiver).
Dean listens in quiet attention as Cas tells him the story of the stars, Dean leaning closer to him where they sit on the hood of the Impala to hear Cas’ soft-spoken words.
“Vega,” Cas begins, “was the daughter of the sky gods. She had lived a long life alone. She was immortal and spent much of her long life apart from the world of humans. One day, a mortal man caught her eye – Altair. He was unlike any other being she had encountered.” Cas’ eyes fix on Dean. “From the moment she descended from the heavens to him, she was in love – and Altair returned that love.” Cas smiles softly at him, and says, “She wished to be with him forever.”
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It starts with a gladiolus plant that Dean brings back to the bunker from the grocery store. His shopping list sure doesn’t have flowers on it, but when his gut says to grab it, he does.
Now, his hands are sweating as he carries it inside, balancing it in one hand and the shopping bags in the other as he struggles through the door. The action – gifting Cas a flower – becomes a bigger deal in his mind with each step he takes.
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Castiel had quite enjoyed the lyrical quality of the poetry that the Neanderthals had produced.
“It’s in perfect tune with the spheres,” he’d shared with Dean once, reflecting on his long life spent observing humanity from afar.
He had admired the genius of later humans who developed the written word and, with that skill, began to write out their melodious ballads. They had invented more complex, longer-lasting musical instruments, and in turn, produced even more intricate compositions. An impromptu marvel of creation spanning across human history, he could appreciate the creativity, the craftmanship, the storytelling, the rhythm. All the parts that create the whole.
Despite this, Castiel found that he couldn’t come to understand the emotions that this thing – this music – evoked in humans.
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A wise man once told me, 'family don't end in blood.' But it doesn't start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them family's there; for the good, bad, all of it. They got your back, even when it hurts. That's family.
We’ve got everything we ever wanted – mom, Cas, our little, make-shift, messed up family.
I have a family.
Dean reflects on the family he's gathered over the years.
(Part of spnprideweek: free space/found family prompts.)
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“You just do what you need to do,” Benny had said, one evening, with his eyes locked on the darkening distance in front of him. “I’ve got your back.”
And he could tell that Dean had started to believe him.
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Benny kept watch, back to Dean, while Dean talked to the sky – to Cas.
“Cas,” Benny heard Dean start, voice just above a whisper. “I don’t know if you can hear me. I should probably give up at this point, but you know I won’t. I won’t. Not if there’s a chance that you’re still out there. If you can hear me, know that I’m not leaving here without you. I’m going to find you and bring you home.”
Dean talked well into the night, until he was hoarse from it. He had curled up at the foot of the nearest tree and Benny heard him whisper one last promise: “I’ll see you soon, Cas.”
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Dean waits in the library, thinking Cas will come looking for him after his shower. He knows that his friend has to be exhausted - coming back from the dead will do that. But they have a lot to catch up on. A lot to talk about. A lot that Dean has to figure out quickly what he wants to say.
It’s not that there hadn’t been time to think about it before.
It’s just that Dean never allowed himself to go there in his mind. Cas was gone, but he’d get him back. He always got him back. Had to get him back.
As for everything else? Buried away in the old memory box.