Summary:Deciding To Move Out Of The Bunker And Into The Pink Palace Since The Hunts Are Now Over, The

Summary: Deciding to move out of the bunker and into the Pink Palace since the hunts are now over, the three of you do not know about the movie Coraline as the house is straight out of the movie. You’re the one that goes through the door and experience the button eyed world.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader (you, gender neutral ‘cause I can’t decide on the gender), Mr Bobinsky, Wybie Lovat, Miss Forcible and Miss Spink, Cat, The Ghost Kids, The Other(s)

A/N: I think that’s it. This is my first time writing a series here on Tumblr. I’ll do the word count and the summary onto each chapter. I think I’m gonna have you and the brothers together, I don’t know.

A/N 2: I’m also gonna have you and Wybie be the age of in the early 20s, so yeah, have fun.

A/N 3: I will update this masterlist as soon as I post the chapters.

Chapter 1: Welcome to Our New Home

Chapter 2: Today is for Gardening

reblog if you’re still going to remain active in the spn fandom after the finale of the show

Stolen Cookies - Eddie x M!Reader x Venom

Summary: With Venom munching away on your cookies, Eddie sneaks a few in until you come into the kitchen and watch the little scene in front of you

Scrolling through his phone and leaning on the table, Eddie read the news about some random shit. “Stop stealing his cookies.” He tells the symbiote off.

He turns his body ‘round to see Venom moving his head out of the cookie jar with a cookie in his mouth and crumbs all over his mouth.

“But these are good, Eddie.” He says with his mouth full.

“Don’t blame me if he starts to go off about his cookies.” Eddie turns back to lean against the table and read the news once again.

Venom retreats back with a few cookies. He settles in the human’s hoodie to start munching away on the treat.

The bites of the food makes Eddie crave for the cookies as a friend of yours had made them for you and the treat is really good.

Eddie takes two cookies out of the jar to snack on.

“He’s going to start yelling at you, Eddie.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut up about what?”

Both your boyfriend and symbiote choke on the cookie they’re eating.

Crumbs are all over their mouths.

You walk towards the two. Being close enough, Venom transfers himself to your body to have a small bit of him go through your fingers.

“Eddie stole your cookies.”

“You did too, you parasite!”

“I’m not a parasite!”

The two begin to argue over nothing with Venom’s head now over your shoulder.

You push his head back, himself nuzzling his face into your hand. “Quiet.” You snarl. “It’s fine if you took some of the cookies. My friend is bringing more tonight.”

The two then have big smiles on their faces.

“But the both of you are only gonna get one tonight.”

“What?”

“What the hell?” Eddie and Venom yell in unison.

Omg you’re such an underrated writer I swear! I just read your Dean x Toddler reader and I died of cuteness. 😭😭😭 Could I request a Sam x M!Toddler reader where the reader is always trying to get hugs and kisses from his dada and Uncle Dean and just overall being a cute little snuggly boy?

Naw, thank you! 🥺 I hope you enjoy this one! 😁

Sam’s Snuggly Boy

Waddling into the lounge room, you see your father, Sam, and uncle, Dean, sitting on the couch with something random playing on the TV.

You grip onto the couch cushion in between them and manage to climb onto it with a bit of help from Sam pushing against your nappy-covered butt.

 You crawl into Sam’s lap, standing to your feet in the small gap of his legs and your small, chubby hands against his chest. Blowing a raspberry and sticking your lips out, Sam and Dean both know the meaning of it. 

Chuckling, Sam presses his lips against yours and blows a raspberry against you. You giggle at the vibration. “Hi, baby.”

“Daddy.” You press your body against his, his arms now under your butt. He shuffles down in his seat to settle your butt on his stomach, your lower back against his arms.

Turning your head, you see your uncle having a small pout on his lips as he’s secretly the one who’s in love with your baby snuggles with him.

Crawling out of your father’s hold, you go towards Dean, who doesn’t see you coming until he feels your small hands against his thigh. Sam sits up properly.

“Unca Bean.” He immediately smiles and brings you into his arms. You press a kiss to his cheek before blowing a raspberry against it, making him chuckle. “Unca Bean wuvs hugs.”

“He loves hugs from you,” he returns the raspberry kiss on your cheek, yourself giggling. He shuffles in his seat to get a little more comfortable to have you press your cheek against his chest and hearing his heartbeat.

You fall asleep from the soothing sound and your body relaxing against his.

“Apparently, you ‘wuv’ hugs.”

“Shut up, so do you.”

Writers are not robots – a reminder to writers and readers alike

Recently I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and me being me I decided to make a post about it – sorry for the lack of eloquence with it, but there we are.

To writers:

Be kind to yourself. Writing is hard, it’s lonely sometimes, especially when people don’t seem to interact with the content that you are making. But please don’t be disheartened, don’t let it destroy the enjoyment that you have for writing, that you have for escaping into other worlds, about learning more about them through the act of writing. Writing is something that takes practice, that needs to be nurtured. However, you can only do that if you’re being nice to yourself as well. Remember that you are not a robot, that you do not have to fret too much about the things that you are writing, about getting them out at a certain time, about the fact that you might’ve loved it but there’s no one else saying the same. Though, of course, those things may affect you, and that’s also OK. You are allowed to take the knock, to let it hurt, but as long as you get back up afterwards, rub the dust away and carry on, then you are winning. At the heart of it the writing should be for you. Do it because you want to, because you love it, because you want to get better. Do it because you have stories that need to be told, because there are characters itching for life in the deepest depths of your imagination. Talk to other writers, seek inspiration from things around you. Remember, you are not a robot, so if you want to feel happy or sad about something in particular then let yourself. In the words of Remus Lupin: ‘It is the quality of one’s convictions that determines success, not the number of followers.’

To readers:

Please remember that writers are not robots. There are times when they need that pick me up to remind them why they are doing it. They need support. A kind message here and there might be the difference between someone following their dreams and giving up on them because ‘well, nobody cares.’ If you’re excited to read what happens next, tell writers. They find it difficult to look impartially back on their own work, they are their own worst critics a lot of the time. If you enjoyed a particular line, tell them so. Support them in the act of getting better, give constructive criticism to help with that, support their growth as a writer. Make them remember that they are not alone in what they are doing. So many stories are abandoned because of a lack of reader interaction, and thus a lack of confidence in the work itself. Remember, writers aren’t robots, they’re people who are putting work out there for various reasons – to make people smile, to practice at a craft, to see what people think, to make people think. Remember that they get sad, they get disassociated from the writing itself sometimes, question why they even try. Please, support writers when they get like this, remind them that it is OK to take a break, that you are aware that they can’t write all the time because sometimes that pressure is something that they put on themselves. As Theodore Roosevelt apparently said, ‘I am a part of everything that I have read,’ and to be a reader with the ability to inspire writers is something that is now a possibility, something which could be an amazing relationship if both writers and readers let it.

Hi there! Could you possibly write a fic for Dean Winchester x M!Reader? One where the reader has really long hair and Dean is always finding ways/excuses to play with it and tie it up in different styles. Just Dean being low key obsessed with his boyfriend and his long hair, even to the point of telling him he can’t ever cut it short because it’s too pretty. Being a guy with long hair myself I would really love Dean to fawn over me and my hair lmao. 💚

I can kinda imagine Dean doing this  💚

Loving The Long Hair

Feeling a hand run through your hair, you ignore it, knowing Dean is the one running his hand through your strands. “What’s up, Dean?”

“You have something in your hair.”

“That’s gonna take you two minutes to take out? It takes a few seconds to get it out.”

“Sh, leave me alone.” He takes the seat next to you and drags it closer to you before sitting down. He rests his chin upon your shoulder and shuffles his head a bit to have your hair rest upon his head.

With your body pressed against the side of Dean’s, he plays with your hair as you’re scrolling through social media on your phone. “Dean?”

“Mm.” He nuzzles his face against your head, smelling your shampoo. Putting your phone next to you, you roll yourself on top of Dean’s. His hands go to rest on top of your thighs. “I have a feeling you’re in a relationship with me just for my hair, not me.” You play with the rem of his shirt.

His arms extend to have his hands reach for your face. Bending your upper half, you press your lips against his, his hands now rest on your cheeks.

Slowly, they reach into your hair and bury themselves in the strands. He balls your hair in his fists, groaning at the taste of your lips.

Separating from the kiss, he groans in annoyance. You get out of bed and slip on one of his shirts. “Take care of him,” you point at the tent in his sweatpants, “‘cause I gotta start on cooking dinner.”

“(Y/N)!” You hear him yell from your shared room once you’re in the doorway of the kitchen. “No! I’m not helping this time!”

Taking out the things you need, you begin to start cooking the burgers, a vege one for Sam.

Footsteps come in behind you with a pair of hands resting on your hips, immediately knowing it’s your boyfriend. His hands shift under the shirt to touch the skin of your hips. He moves closer to your body, yourself feeling his boner.

“Dean, I told you to take care of him.” In response, he parts your hair with his nose to have it pressed against the back of your neck, your hair covering parts of his face.

“Don’t ever cut your hair short.”

“Wasn’t really planning to, except for trimming it sometimes, baby.”

With a random movie playing on the TV, you’re sitting on the ground in between Dean’s legs as he’s on the couch and brushing your hair. He then parts it in three parts and starts to plait it. 

This has become a routine sometimes or when Dean gets bored. It’s the second option right now.

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Please don’t cut your hair short, not like when Sam had his hair back at Stanford,” he mumbles against your head.

His hands go under your armpits to bring your body up and sit in between the gap of his legs on the couch. He smushes his face against the side of your neck. Your hand comes up to bury it in his short strands.

“What? No, no way I’m gonna have my hair that short.”

“Good.”