Yessssss I Love Him, Look At This Beautiful Art, At This Beautiful Manz Look At Him

Destiel

Coffee_Sigh.Rho. · Playlist · 54 songs

Here, have a Destiel playlist I made. Enjoy, mfs. THE ART IN THE COVER IS NOT MINE!!!! I FOUND IT ON PINTEREST, IF YOU KNOW THE ARTIST THAT’S GREAT CUZ I DON’T AND DO NOT INTEND TO STEAL THEIR ART. Thank ya.

For the DA poets

Atelophobia is a plague that attacks your mind and not only instils the fear of not being good enough in your mind, it is a package deal of insecurities and overworking. Atelophobia is working into the late hours of the night, writing and thinking for fear of failure; it is empty coffee cups and fighting insomnia to get just one last page of work done, or so you say. It’s feeling eyes watching you as you type until your fingers are sore, until you really can’t keep up your own eyelids, until your eyes are burning from the amount of hours you’ve forced them open.

It is worrying about the future, wondering if you really are taking on too much but forcing through it, all for the sake of not failing. But what is failing, if not the fear of never achieving perfection? Atelophobia at it’s core is the fear of losing a battle you had no chance of winning.

playing god

Me: ...I need a way to get rid of all these crows so that this plot hole can be fixed. Also me: Let’s just flood the town and attack them with lighting; yes, great, perfect.

May you burn with the monster that plagues your soul; may you lay in the ashes of your very sins and damnation. May the devil do with you as he sees fit and throw you deep into the pits of the eternal hellfire, and may you reap what you have sown.

Cole, Tacita Corvus (my book)

Start of Chapter six, Sins of the Flesh

Start of chapter four, Sins of the flesh.

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1281199235-sins-of-the-flesh-chapter-6-castiel-angel-of-the Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38974686/chapters/107196657

---- A few calm weeks went by as the temperatures dropped, whatever green was left on the trees shifting to bright fiery colours as they approached the end of October. Winds began to pick up and frost collected on the grass in the early mornings, days shortening as the sun began to lower in the sky earlier and earlier in the evenings. On October 23rd, Dean found himself hunched over a bible, trying to memorize a script for the Sunday sermon, one which his father had always taken very seriously because of the approach of Halloween. John had always been unnecessarily strict about the fact that Halloween was the devil’s work, that ghouls and demons would be invited into your home if you celebrated it. He wasn’t completely incorrect as both a priest and a hunter; many idiots tended to summon things nearing Halloween as a sort of daring and spooky activity, although the celebration itself had no attachment to any sort of gateways, as his father so-called them. Nonetheless, the priest still found himself in the dark of his kitchen, fingers gliding over the same imprints in the paper over and over in a desperate attempt to memorize them all by the 26th. He had, of course, memorized hundreds of passages in the past few years he had been carrying on the family business, but Dean preferred to preach new lectures and teach new things each year instead of simply repeating what he had already said; although there had been a few times he found himself repeating himself when he wasn’t able to think of anything new for that week. Dean barely noticed the passing of time as he worked for hours on his memorization, his mind began to wander as he remembered the happenings only just under four weeks prior; he had heard from Sam that the matricide had continued, and in some sick way, Dean felt guilty for leaving so many people to die. Plagued with guilt and the need to make his father proud, Dean carried on with his memorization and only stopped when Castiel entered the room and lay a gentle hand on his left shoulder. The priest flinched, startled out of his concentration at the sudden touch; he hadn’t even heard Castiel’s footsteps. “Jesus, Cas! Warn a guy before you touch him,” Dean grumbled as he fixed his terrible posture, raising his arms above his head as he stretched. “I apologize, Dean, usually I don’t have to,” Castiel apologized softly as he placed a mug on the table in front of Dean, the thick glass clunking against the table as it was set down. Dean picked up the mug and took a careful sniff of it before taking a sip, his brow creasing in confusion as he recognized the bitter taste of coffee on his tongue. “Why are you giving me coffee so late?” The priest questioned as he set the mug back down, careful not to spill any on his bible. “Late? No, Dean, it’s early. It’s five am,” Castiel informed as he sat down beside his friend at the table and sipped at his own coffee, made with cream and sugar.

Nickname cheat sheet

The classic - Darling

Classy gay

Immediately shows off you have trauma

Perfect when paired with a chuckle, sigh or smirk

Ex: Oh, darling, your intelligent thoughts really are non-existant.

The lover - Pretty boy

Teasing

Perfect for rivals to lovers

Can be said sarcastically, with a smirk, or after getting punched in the face.

Ex: Why don’t you come over here and make me, pretty boy?

The gentle one; do not trust - My dear

Endearing

Kinda sweet; if you didn’t have a blade pressed to your throat

Always acompanied by a little smile, a brush of lips that you know you will never kiss or kind eyes narrowed instead

Ex: Trust me... I may gift you flowers, but I will have you beheaded at the drop of a hat, my dear.

The broken - Sweetheart

Melancholic

Often said when being told a sad tale of the villain’s fallen kindom or during and angry break-down

Best used when tears are still on either person’s cheeks, during a good-bye/farewell, paired with a sad smile or a tear-filled glare

Ex: Trust me, sweetheart, I have seen things, know things, lost things that you could never understand.

The fridge.

Have y’all ever had that violent hunger that hits at like 3:14 am and you just have to stare into the empty low-lit abyss of your fridge, praying that somehow, some God somewhere may bless you with the meal you do not trully deserve, just to calm the angry growling of your impatient stomach? Just me? Aight.

Playlist #1

My personal favourite playlist; I did not make it, I found it on youtube. https://youtu.be/jhX-2wYCjxI

I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute. Yes, I'm a genius.

Dr.Spencer Reid; Criminal Minds, season 1 episode 1 - extreme aggressor