Lucy, She/her. In love with Star Wars, Marvel and other fandoms, but I also reblog/post about more serious things (ideals, politics, culture, etc.). Currently obsessed with mythology.
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Lucimea66 - Lucimea66 - Tumblr Blog
On April 30th while reporting on the Students Revolution at Columbia University, CNN anchor Kasie Hunt made reference to Hind Rajab as 'A Woman Who Was Killed in Gaza." Hind Rajab was six years old.
Chiron is in constant pain. Not a physical pain, no. A pain that lingers in the corner of his vision, when Nico picks up a lyre for the first time for campfire. When a soldier boy lets down his guard for a lover who would follow him to the end, and suddenly, in the corners of his eyes, he sees Achilles and Patroclus. And then he blinks, and it's all gone again. After all, time flies when you're immortal.
dionysus having a soft spot for Nico and Will canonically is really neat/wholesome me thinks :,)
also Dionysus & Chiron treating them both so a huge (and delicious) breakfast after they got back is the icing on the cake lol
lebanon should’ve been a tense and hostile dinner party bottle episode with the winchesters, cas and jack, and rowena. john keeps microagressing cas and cas keeps being cunty right back and dean is just trying to get through the night. meanwhile on the other side of the table sam is like mommy pass the salt and rowena and mary both reach for it.
“Look up at me?”
Dean lifted his face but kept his eyes on his phone, still tapping. Charlie leaned in and dotted over another one of his freckles in blue. The kitchen table beside them was covered in brushes, wipes, Q-tips, and little pots of brightly colored face paint, in rainbow colors.
“I can tell you’re nervous,” Charlie said offhandedly, laser-focused and very close to Dean’s face, her pinky braced against his cheek.
“No you can’t. Why would I be nervous?”
“You always play Crossy Road when you’re nervous.”
“I always play Crossy Road when I’m bored. Seriously, how long is this going to take?”
“It’s your fault you have so many freckles.”
“Don’t pretend you’re not bullshitting new ones everywhere.”
Charlie poked him in the middle of the forehead with the butt of her brush. He pinched her side and she yelped, jerking sideways. The lid to the blue paint clattered onto the linoleum floor.
“Pick that up, ungrateful knave!”
“I can’t, I’m paralyzed by nerves,” Dean said, leaning back and setting one ankle on his knee. He turned a sunny grin up at her. Charlie cooed and grabbed one of his cheeks like a doting grandparent and Dean almost tipped his chair over trying to yank back.
“Don't smear the paint!”
Smug, Charlie exchanged the blue paint for purple. “Nope! This is the good stuff. You’re gonna have to work to get it off.”
Dean blinked up at her in horror.
“Jesus. Why did I agree to let you do this.”
“Because you look fucking adorable with rainbow freckles,” she said, and handed him the small mirror on the tabletop. He stared, then brought the mirror in closer and rubbed at his cheek. The rainbow colors didn’t budge.
“Oh no.”
Someone started hammering on the front door of the apartment and Charlie bellowed IT’S OPEN over her shoulder. Dean leaned away from her, protesting the noise with a loud, annoyed yowling. She rolled her eyes and pulled him forward by the chin.
“Shut up. One more color.”
“Shoulda just gone full Pride Braveheart, woulda been faster.”
“I told you, but you wanted ‘subtle’.”
“There’s always next year!” Sam said, poking their head around the kitchen doorway. They stepped in with Eileen and Dorothy in tow and Dean spluttered, pushing Charlie aside so he could sit forward.
“What’s with the heels, Sam, you’re already a tree!”
Sam was indeed wearing boots with three-inch heels. They were also wearing heart-shaped glasses, dangly earrings that almost touched their shoulders, metallic paint on their nails, and a loose, half-sheer top covered in constellations. Their cross-body bag strap had several pins on it, the largest of which said THEY/THEM above a small enamel nonbinary flag.
“You won’t be complaining when I’m an easy landmark in a sea of people, dipshit.”
Dot bent down to lay a smacking kiss on the side of Dean’s head. “Happy first Pride, Dee! I come bearing gifts.”
She swept a spot clear on the kitchen table and upended a small paper bag. A collection of pins clattered onto the wood.
“For Eileen,” Dot said, holding up an enamel pin of the ASL sign “I Love You”. Eileen beamed and pinned it to her jacket, along with her SHE/HER button and pansexual flag. Charlie helped to face and sort the pins, squealing when she discovered the Live Long and Prosper in the colors of the lesbian flag. She squished Dot in a side-hug and kissed her on the cheek.
“For Sam,” Dot said, handing up a little Sasquatch to an answering eye roll, “aaand Deanie Bean.”
Dean held out his hand to accept the last pins. One was a HE/HIM pronoun button, then a small enamel bisexual flag, then a pair of cowboy boots that said “PAGING DR SEXY, STAT”.
“Awesome,” he said, then grunted when Charlie plopped down on his lap. She took the pronoun pin and started fastening it to Dean’s Led Zeppelin shirt, which they’d altered into a sleeveless boatneck via some clever ripping.
“You don’t have to wear them all if you don’t want to,” she said quietly, tugging Dean’s shirt lopsided so the top of Dean’s flaming pentagram tattoo showed.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Charlie shrugged. “You just went a little green when you saw the flag.”
“Blame the freckles,” Dean grumbled, and Charlie kissed his forehead before bouncing to her feet.
“Alright, queers, wheels up, let’s rock ’n’ roll!”
“Who’s got sunscreen?” Dot called out, rifling through her tote bag as the group started migrating towards the front door.
“There’s some in the car. Pocket check!”
Everyone tapped chest, hips and butt and then threw a sassy snap in the air, everyone except Dean, who was busy pinning the bi flag to his shirt. Charlie patiently held the door for him, smiling like a proud mom.
“There,” he said, pulling the shirt lopsided again. Charlie slapped his ass as she pulled the door shut behind them.
“Gonna have to keep an eye on you, lookin like such a snack.”
Dean threw her a cheeky wink. Charlie cackled, looping their arms together as they caught up with the group. She whooped and threw devil horns in the air with her free hand.
“Pride’s not gonna know WHAT hit it this year!”
🌈
A fuckin’ heatwave, as it turns out.
Dean was too hot, and not in the Bruno Mars kind of way. Well, not just that way.
The heat was making him grumpy.
“How was your first Pride, Dean? Oh, fine, I got heatstroke and died. Music was good, though.”
“Oh my god. Go get another beer and stop whining,” Sam said.
“I spent my last buck on this itchy feather boa.”
“Dean.”
Dean made his best puppy-dog eyes up at Sam until they rolled their eyes and pulled a ten from their bag. Dean beamed and scrunched his shoulders.
“Thanks mom!” He turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. “OI! Charlie! Dot! Want anything?”
Dancing under some water misters, they raised their cups and shook their heads, tapping Eileen on the shoulder. She turned and Dean signed more drink?? and waved the ten with his eyebrows raised. She tapped her bottle of spiked lemonade and raised the number 1, nodding. He lifted a thumbs up and she blew him a kiss.
“Sure, I’ll take a beer,” Sam said loudly as Dean shouldered past them.
“Not good for trees. It’ll wilt your foliage. I’ll bring you a nice hose water.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Dean was grinning and tapping the folded ten-dollar bill against his hand, eyes on the nearest drinks tent, when something very large and very rainbow tumbled out of the crowd and knocked into his side, shoving him into a small group of people wearing a lot of leather. He hit the pavement with a surprised oof.
“Sorry!”
A hand reached down to him. Dean squinted up at the stranger’s silhouette haloed by the blinding sun; a man, with… two very large wings.
“Did I fucking die?”
The hand closed around his wrist and pulled.
“I didn’t hit you that h—“
The man’s voice trailed away as Dean stood up and met his eyes.
Dean stared.
🌈
The girls pushed their way back through the sea of people to where Sam was standing, bumping into the arm they had raised over the crowd.
“What’s up? Did you spot someone famous?” Charlie said, pushing up on her tiptoes to try to see over the crowd. Her red hair was beaded with little pearls of water from the misters, sticking to her face.
“No, get this,” Sam said, lowering their phone and tapping the screen. Chewing on a grin, they turned it to show Charlie.
She grabbed the phone.
“Shut up. No way.“
🌈
He was tall, almost as tall as Dean, with messy dark hair and big blue eyes, a strong stubbled jaw and a mouth that made Dean think strawberry marshmallow. The very tanned, very smooth skin of his chest was on full display, showing off a wordy tattoo on his left side, just under his ribs.
The only thing he wore above the waist was a pair of great big, rainbow-feathered wings. Like proper enormous, angel-of-the-lord sized wings.
Dean shut his hanging jaw with a click.
“Are you alright?” The man asked, his voice as low and gritty as the pavement that had caught Dean’s fall. Dean dusted off his hands.
“Uh, depends. Are you real?” He leaned back and tapped one of the leather clique chicks on the shoulder. “Hey, sorry. Can you see him too?”
“What, the gay angel? Yeah.”
Dean held out his arms in a tah-dah sort of gesture. “Hallelujah.”
The man’s eyes caught on one of Dean’s hands.
“You’re bleeding.”
Dean looked down. The stinging skin of his palm was, indeed, starting to bleed.
“Ah, it’s nothing,” he said, blotting it on his black shirt. He watched the blood start to well up again. Angel guy came closer, his fingers grazing the back of his hand like he wanted to cradle it but didn’t want to come across as too familiar. The hesitant brush was almost more intimate than if he had just taken his hand. An electric thrill ran up Dean’s spine and he tensed to prevent a visible shiver.
“I’m very sorry. I knew the wings were a bad idea,” the man said.
“You kidding? It’s the most badass shit I’ve seen all day. Did you build them yourself?”
“My brother did. His are pink, yellow, and blue.”
“There’s more of you?”
“Just us,” he said. “Here, at least.”
Dean tipped his chin up a fraction. He clapped the man’s shoulder amicably.
“Us black sheep are cuter anyway,” he said, and reveled in the small smile he got in return. “I’m Dean.”
“Hello, Dean,” the man said, taking Dean’s proffered hand and shaking it. “Castiel.”
“Wow. Props, man. Never heard that one before.”
“You’re not religious?”
“What?”
“It’s the name of an angel.”
“Oh. Is that why…?” Dean asked, gesturing to the wings. Castiel nodded.
“My siblings and I are all named for angels. Gabriel thought these would be fitting. And adequately blasphemous."
Dean grinned.
🌈
“Who do you work for?”
Sam jumped and Charlie yelped at the sudden accusatory voice behind them. The group turned to find a man glaring daggers, hands on his hips.
Above his head stretched a pair of pink, yellow, and blue wings.
“What’s with the sneaky pictures of my friend over there, huh? What are you, P.I.s?”
“Nothing like that!” Charlie said, holding out a placating hand. “That man in the black shirt over there is their brother!”
The winged man looked up at Sam, who was nodding vigorously, and immediately adopted a less intimidating stance.
“Ah. Sibling blackmail, I respect it. Whatcha got?” He said, and moved in with eagerly wiggling fingers.
🌈
“The freckles are a nice touch.”
Dean snorted. “Sure. Looks like I contracted a bad case of the gay.”
Castiel laughed, throwing his head back. His dark hair shone like a rich red wine where it caught the sunlight.
“Condolences,” he said. "Did you know, some people believe they're angel kisses?"
"What?"
"Freckles."
A sly smile grew on Dean's face. "You tryina take credit for something, angel?"
His smile only got bigger the pinker Cas' cheeks got.
"Of course not, Dean. Just making small talk."
They stood in line together at the drinks tent, caught between the baking pavement and the punishing sun. Dean grimaced and pulled his bi pride feather boa away from his neck, arranging it like a sash so it didn’t touch as much skin.
“God. Don’t those things itch?”
“No. They’re very hot, though,” Castiel said, pulling the wings away from his back to let the breeze through. Dean eyed the curve of his spine in the little alcove he’d created – the way his skin shone with sweat, the outlines of his phone and his wallet against the swell of his, uh. Castiel started to turn and Dean quickly averted his gaze.
“How’s your hand?”
Dean lifted it between them. It was still trying, sluggishly, to bleed.
“I’ll see if I can get some ice and napkins,” Castiel said.
“It’s fine, man, really.”
“To you.”
“Cas.”
“What can I get you two?”
They looked up to find that they were next in line to order. Dean started to open his mouth to correct the person but stopped when Cas touched his hand.
“I got it. What do you want?”
“You don’t—“
“Dean.”
“Fine.” He’d just sneak the ten into Castiel’s pocket later.
He gave his order and stood off to the side, holding his drinks while he watched Cas pay for them, asking for extra ice and napkins. Dean rolled one cold, wet beer bottle against the side of his neck, eyes on Cas’ slender fingers as he tucked his wallet back into his pocket. The motion pulled the waistband of his jeans lower over his hipbones and Dean had to look away or risk accidentally boiling the beer he held against his skin.
“Here, over here.”
Cas led them past the drinks tent and up onto the grass, finding a relatively uncrowded shady spot under a large tree. He set his drinks on the ground and gestured for Dean to give him his hand.
Dean hissed when the ice hit his palm.
“Sorry.”
“Dude, quit apologizing.”
There was a flash of blue when Cas’ eyes flicked to look up at him. He patted one of the napkins gently against Dean’s raw skin.
“Thank you,” Cas said.
“…Weird track switch, but sure?"
“For letting me help,” Cas clarified. He gave a wry smile. “Despite protest.”
Something akin to panic fluttered like a single trapped moth behind Dean’s ribs. Shit, was this goodbye? Why did this sound like goodbye? This couldn’t be all there was.
“It, uh… it ain’t all better yet,” he said. Cas’ brow furrowed.
“What?”
Dean’s heart was hammering. Risk it? Risk it?
God, yeah.
“You didn’t kiss it.”
Cas searched his eyes. Dean wondered if his own pulse was visible slamming against his neck.
Slowly, Cas lifted Dean's hand between them. He touched his lips to Dean’s palm, over the napkin. Dean swallowed.
“Better?”
Dean shook his head. God, he was going to rupture several veins the way his heart was going, but something – maybe everything – about this guy made him want to throw caution to the winds. He took a step closer. He turned his hand in Cas’ lax grip so his fingers brushed the strong line of his jaw.
Cas didn’t stop him. He leaned in.
Dean closed his eyes and kissed him.
“WOO!”
“YEEOW!“
They leapt apart, almost spilling the drinks by their feet.
“Jesus!”
Sam, Charlie, Dot, and Eileen were standing at the curb by the drinks tent, whooping and hollering along with a man wearing a set of pink, yellow, and blue wings. Gabriel leaned back to check Sam’s raised phone screen, then cackled and high-fived them.
“Don’t worry guys, we got it!” Gabriel called, throwing them a thumbs-up while Sam gleefully showed the other three the footage. Dean looked over at Cas like he was afraid Cas might try to deck him. He found Cas watching him in much the same way.
“Do you know those people?” Cas said.
“Unfortunately. The skyscraper? That’s my sibling. The gals were the ones who talked me into attending. I don’t know how they found your brother.”
“Trust me. Gabriel found them.”
“Awesome.”
The group was coming in to join them under the tree, making ridiculous cooing noises.
“You’re all horrible,” Dean said, and swiped the drink he’d ordered for Eileen before she could grab it. She pouted at him. He narrowed his eyes and mouthed traitor, but gave it over anyway. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then discreetly flicked her eyes in Cas’ direction and signed he is smokin’ so only Dean could see it. Dean shrugged in the universal sign can you blame me? and she grinned.
“So when’s the big daaay?” Gabriel sing-songed, looping his arm through Cas’. Cas shoved him off.
“It’s a wonder I make any friends with you around.”
Gabriel just laughed and pinched his sides, making him hunch over defensively, which brought his head low enough for Gabriel to pull him into a noogie.
“Oooo looked like a little bit more than friends, little bro!”
“Gabe!”
“I’m so proud of you!“ Charlie said, swinging a punch at Dean’s arm. “Way to just go for it!”
“Charlie, ow?”
“Our little gaybie, growing up so fast.” She wiped away a false tear. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled his feather boa from his shoulder, winding it in loose coils around Charlie’s neck and lower face. She laughed, spluttering through the feathers.
He jumped when he realized Gabriel was standing right at his shoulder.
“Shit. How do you do that with those on?” Dean said, looking up at the wings. Gabriel just narrowed his eyes at him, singular in his focus, like he was reading the fine print of his soul through the back of his retinas. His gaze shifted to consider the middle of his face.
Dean hissed when Gabe suddenly gave him a cheerful clap on the arm. It was right on the same spot Charlie had punched.
“Damn it,” Dean muttered, rubbing his arm.
“Cute freckles, Prince Charming.”
“Thanks.”
Apparently satisfied, Gabe turned away, almost knocking Dean over with one of his wings. “Seriously melting my balls off out here, where’s the nearest ice cream tent?”
“The snowcone van is right over there,” Dot said, pointing. Charlie bounced up and down, grabbing Dot’s arm.
“Ooo! Do you think they have rocket pops?”
“Gangway!” Gabriel declared, leading the charge back towards the thick of the crowd milling on the street. Charlie and Dot followed in his feathery wake.
“Hey, um,” Sam said, still hovering nearby. “I can delete that video. I don’t mean anything by it. Your business is your business.”
“Since when?” Dean said. He felt feathers brush his arm and glanced over.
Cas met his eyes, his gaze a calm, steady blue. Dean’s stomach did a little pirouette.
“Might be nice to remember. Look back on someday,” Cas said. Dean raised his eyebrows.
“You goin’ somewhere?”
In his periphery, Sam and Eileen started to sidle away. Dean hooked Cas’ pinky with his own, loose.
“I wasn’t going to presume anything,” Cas said. Dean’s fingers crept further, capturing Cas’ ring finger along with his pinky.
“Yeah I probably shouldn’t, either.”
Cas looked down, threading their fingers together properly. Their palms settled against each other. When he raised his eyes, it was tentative, almost shy.
Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this giddy. He swung their joined hands between them.
“Hey. Did it hurt?” He said.
Cas squinted at him. “What?”
“When you fell from heaven.”
Dean cackled when Cas rolled his eyes in a dramatic full-body gesture and shoved him over onto the grass.
Feathers and Freckles on Ao3
❤️🧡💛💚💙💜
Tag list (message me to be added or removed!)
@one-more-offbeat-anthem @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @yourspecialeyes @sleepycas @castiel @wormstacheangel @meg3point0
does anyone realize how crazy it is to have the actor of a mostly headcanoned queer ship say the fans were never crazy and they were right all along after 10+ years of everyone just absolutely going nuts over the said queerbaited ship
REBLOG IF YOUR BLOG IS A SAFE SPACE FOR AROMANTIC PEOPLE AND IF YOU THINK THEY ARE VALID
I want to see how many people actually are willing to say this and not just act like it
bitches be like “this is the best piece of literature i have ever read” and it’s either a book that took them six weeks to finish or a fanfic they read at 3 AM
a comic about fix-it fanfics
16th century ring that unfolds into an astronomical sphere
IMPORTANT!!!
I’ve only seen like one person talk about this and it’s super important that this gets out there
Multiple punk symbols and sayings have been added to the FBI’s domestic terrorism guide
Things included are
The symbol for anarchy
ACAB and 1312
The three arrows pointing down in a circle
Eat the rich
Those are a few but it also mentions anything anti-fascist and anti capitalist
So if you live in the US please be careful
Nico: Hey Will, I’ve got an idea for how to solve this.
Will, pulling out a shotgun: Yeah?
Nico: Wh- No! That’s not the idea, Solace!
Waiting for the day we read Tsats and loose our shit as Will pulls out his revolver and shoots a monster right in the head before it can attack Nico.
And Nico looks at his Ray of Sunshine of a boyfriend. Stunned but beyond impressed.
“Where’d you get that?” He asks, with a hint of excitement in his voice.
“Oh! My grandfather gave me Susan before I left for camp” Will smiled. “Now that I think about it, maybe giving a nine year old a revolver wasn’t really the safest parting gift—”
“—Wait…Susan..?”
“Susan!” Will nodded as he raised the gun.
Nico gave out a chuckle. “I like Susan”
family gathering. playing monopoly. getting close to the end. 12 year old turns to 8 year old brother and says it’s time to become esteemed colleagues. i say what? he says esteemed colleagues. they merge their money and assets and beat me at monopoly
no but really, like
i know that some folks love telling creative people that “you should be doing it for fun because you love it not for the compliments” but creative people thrive on feedback whether it’s critical or just complimentary
so when i write fanfiction and don’t get any actual feedback i feel like i spent all that time and energy doing it for nothing because i’m not getting feedback from the people i wrote it for
doing something you’re proud of and then presenting it to the sound of utter silence is like the worst feeling on earth
Writing advice from my uni teachers:
If your dialog feels flat, rewrite the scene pretending the characters cannot at any cost say exactly what they mean. No one says “I’m mad” but they can say it in 100 other ways.
Wrote a chapter but you dislike it? Rewrite it again from memory. That way you’re only remembering the main parts and can fill in extra details. My teacher who was a playwright literally writes every single script twice because of this.
Don’t overuse metaphors, or they lose their potency. Limit yourself.
Before you write your novel, write a page of anything from your characters POV so you can get their voice right. Do this for every main character introduced.
i think the hardest part about this job is not being able to say What The Fuck
something about substances so strong they can only be cut by that same substance (like diamond) gets to me. the self-fulfilling prophecy of it. you can armor yourself against any and all outside threats, but you're still beholden to your own nature.
furious that i am not a playable character in this game