Tag: Anonymous

Random question: what is the weirdest compliment you’ve ever received?

That’s a great question! In college, I switched majors from voice/music to technical writing. My crush asked me to edit a paper for him because he was frustrated that he kept getting lower grades because of grammar and usage problems.

He got an A on the paper with my fixes and suggestions.

He came up to me, shoved the paper at me and said, and I quote, “I want to punch you in the face and then give you all the money in my wallet.”

I feel like you are either ignoring or deleting all the asks I sent you. You seem to answer the ones you get quickly. So why not mine?

If this is the same anon I’m thinking of, then yes, I’ve deleted your asks. And the reason is because I’m an SPN S13+ positive blog. I love my show despite its flaws. And while I may criticize some plot points, occasional flat episodes, what I perceive to be OOC moments, certain insensitivity, etc. I still love the show. I’m not about to spread hate on it.

In fact, I blacklist certain tags and block lots of posts, and unfollow lots of people that go above and beyond what I consider to be criticism, to outright hate of characters/actors/episodes/whatever.

I have been pretty vocal on repeat offenders of bullshit that appears in the scripts in the form of a pair of show writers, but there’s a long and storied history of stuff there to dive into that goes beyond hurting my favorite show. However, though I do let my distaste be known, it’s not on the regular, and certainly not a majority of what I talk about re: SPN.

Yes, I’m glad the Lucifer arc has FINALLY played itself out, but that’s because it got stale. No, I don’t hate Jack. I love Jack. No, I don’t hate Mary. I love Mary. I love all the characters and their faults and fissures and fantasticness.

If you don’t, that’s fine, but seeing as how I’m here to actually enjoy something, if you don’t, I won’t visit your corner of the world, and I ask that you don’t intrude directly onto mine. I cultivate my Tumblr experience for a reason. And that reason is that I’m exhausted of pointless fandom turf wars. I’m too old to get that worked up, and frankly, when I was younger too, I always had better things to do than rail on a damn fictional universe.

I found your asks to be an effort to begin an incitement of wank on various levels for lots of things in the fandom, and have never been, nor will I ever be, here for that.

I am here for positivity and enjoyment. End of story.

Do you have any defining nerdy moments?

Yes, I most certainly do! A few stick out in my mind. 2 specifically revolving around Dragon Con.

1) Meeting Carrie Fisher

She was amazing. She was a very kind, forward, take no shit, generous person. Y’all might know that she was pretty famous around the conventions of putting glitter on people. So, I’m working crowd control and backstage, and at that point in the weekend, I have no clue what panel I’m even working. Like, I was given time, room, I was there. Exhausted. Carrie Fisher walks up. Stands right in front of me. I’m not expecting it, so I stand there staring. She has a jar of glitter, and she says to me, “women like you in spaces like this are important.” Then she paints two racing stripes down the side of my face, and walks under the curtain for her panel.

2) Meeting Stan Lee

I don’t even have a story. I teared up, handed him my Iron Man comic to sign, and was so overcome I couldn’t say a damn thing. But as I was leaving I managed to say, “your comics turned me into the geek I am, thank you.” And he said, “me, too, Sunflower.”

3) Meeting Benedict Cumberbatch

This was random. He was in town filming the Avengers near where I worked. I was cutting through the underground mall early in the morning to get to work, and stopped for coffee. I turn around and literally run into him. I don’t say sorry. I’m so shocked, I say, “holy shit, Doctor Strange! You’re my favorite!” And he grabs my arms and grins and says, “no one says that! Did you hear that guys, I’m her favorite! No one says that!” 

4) My J2 photo op at SPN Atlanta. 

All thanks goes to @ltleflrt for this one. I asked them to, “squeeze the shit outta me, please,” and Jared lifted me off my feet and I had Jensen against my back, and I couldn’t breathe, and it was the best 10 seconds of my life. Then I burst into tears, snot crying like, 10 minutes later. It was such bliss. XD

“You come across as, um, a little intimidating.” (a prompt i found on the internet) – Destiel with punk!Cas? :) I’m so sorry if this is shitty, I have no idea how to send prompts. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. Have a nice day! :)))

WELL IT LOOKS LIKE I’LL JUST HAVE TO DO ANOTHER DRABBLE FOR MY ROCK ON ‘VERSE, HUH? Such a shame. @winchester-reload, you might be interested in this since your art spawned it. 

The art that spawned the ‘verse can be found [ Here on Winchester-Reload’s Tumblr ]

“Um,” Sam says hesitantly in the doorway to the tattoo studio’s break room. “Hey, so get this. Cas, I’ve had a customer complaint? About you?”

Dean actually puts down his magazine at that. 

Castiel sighs. “That girl who cried earlier?”

Dean snorts. “A crier? This is a tattoo parlor. Lots of people cry. That’s how we do business.”

Sam rolls his eyes, puffing a breath that ruffles his pink hair. “It was a piercing.”

Shrugging, Dean says, “people cry at those, too. People are wimps.”

Castiel holds up a neatly black-polished finger. “No, it was my fault. I couldn’t use the piercing gun, so I had to use the needle, and she… freaked out a little.”

Sam grabs a soda from the fridge and sits down at the table. “It’s not like I’m gonna do anything about it, but it’s not the first time someone’s said that you come across as… um… a little intimidating.”

Dean absolutely howls with laughter. A whole, knee-slapping guffaw that has Castiel scowling probably as badly as he did at that hipster girl to make her cry.

Sam shoves Dean’s chair with his foot. “Sorry, Cas. Really. Dean. Dude, stop laughing and help him out, okay?”

“How?” Dean chuckles, wiping tears from his eyes.

“You’re really good with people. We gotta keep up our image here. There are like, a dozen other tattoo parlors around, and a couple bad Yelp reviews could sink us. Word of mouth is important.”

Dean scoffs. “You’re world famous, Sammy. This shop isn’t going underwater just because Cas has a grumpy puss.” He squeezes Castiel’s cheeks in his hand, wiggling and making kissy noises.

Castiel moodily bats Dean’s hand away. “I swear to God I will dye your hair a natural color while you sleep.”

Gasping dramatically, Dean puts a hand over his heart. “But the blue matches your, eyes. Fine, you sexy thang. I’ll help polish your rusty people skills so you don’t shame Sam.”

“Why did you marry him?” Sam asks Castiel mildly.

“Might have been a head injury. Perhaps temporary insanity,” Castiel answers.

“Both of you suck,” Dean chirps. “I’ve changed my mind, I’m not helping.”

Ignoring him, Sam says, “he’s super sensitive, too.”

Castiel nods. “Maybe he has low self-worth.”

Dean scowls. “I will piss in your cereal. Like, literally.”

Castiel nods to Sam. “He also has a penchant for being a big, whiny baby.”

Sam pats his brother-in-law on the shoulder. “Maybe I should teach you how to be more sociable. Dean never matured beyond elementary school.”

“I want a divorce!” Dean says loudly.

Castiel turns his sly, knowing smirk finally on his husband. “The hell you say. No one gives you a ride like I do.”

Sam laughs loud, brief, and scandalized.

Dean shifts in his chair, pants kinda tight. “Y’know, if you looked like that at the ladies, you’d never get a complaint ever again.”

Sastiel, college roommate au, one or the other of the boys has been using the sock-on-the-door signal to get time to himself to jerk off without risking his roommate hearing him say his name in the throes of passion… until the day said roommate really needs that textbook/paper/forgotten item and bursts in anyway.

Sam feels so bad about this right now. So bad. It’s been a whole semester that he and Castiel have been living together, and both have been very diligent about following the house rules. Then again, he didn’t expect the sock on the door rule to be so… frequent.

Not that Sam can deny how hot Castiel is. Because… he totally is. It doesn’t surprise him at all that the guy’s getting plenty of action. Except… that it kinda does.

Castiel doesn’t seem to go out much. He goes to the university gym early (with Sam only), then goes to the coffee shop for breakfast (with Sam only). Then he showers (with himself only), then he goes to class (walking with Sam only), then he comes home (two hours before Sam). He hated the one party that Sam took him to. And he shrugs when Sam asks if he ever wants to have his friends over.

Where is he meeting these people? He’s quiet and thoughtful. Smart as all hell. And he’s got the best smile Sam’s ever seen.

So, all data considered, Sam hates that fucking sock on the door. It means that Castiel is getting laid (without Sam) and it… it sucks. It sucks a lot. And Sam is more than happy to follow the rule because his indigestion can’t handle seeing it, hearing it, not being a part of it. But he’s got a presentation to give in thirty minutes and his laptop and flash drive are still in his bedroom. He needs them as much as he doesn’t need his own stupid jealousy.

Like a secret agent breaking into a room, Sam unlocks the front door and creeps inside without a sound. He tiptoes past the living room and down the hallway. He’s holding his breath as if that can somehow stop the creaky hinge on his bedroom door, when a soft voice filters through Castiel’s door.

“Faster, Sam, please!” It begs.

Sam goes incredibly cold and hot all in a second. Of all the fucking luck. Castiel isn’t fucking him, but now it’s another Sam? 

Don’t be a perv, don’t be a perv, don’t be a perv. Sam presses his ear to Castiel’s door like a perv. And something’s a little… off. It doesn’t seem like Castiel’s having sex. Sam’s been so grossly obsessed, that he knows all the creaks in Castiel’s bed springs when he tosses and turns late at night. He knows the sound of the drawers opening and closing. He certainly knows the sound of Castiel’s voice. Right now, there’s no creaking, and there’s only one voice.

Panting, moaning, quiet, so quiet, “oh, God, Sam!” 

Then silence.

Sam gulps. Shifts and tries to will away his sudden, urgent, painful erection. It’s just not possible. It can’t be possible. It’s too good. Too unthinkable.

He’s stood there too long.

The door swings open inwards and Castiel is there in his pajama pants and a thin blue t-shirt. He actually shouts in surprise when he runs into Sam.

Sam blinks, face burning. “Um,” he says. “I…”

Castiel looks down in embarrassment, but it doesn’t escape Sam’s notice that his gaze stops right at his waist. Shit.

Calmly, Castiel looks back up. His expression is inscrutable, but he says, “Sam, I think we should talk.”

Sam nods. He agrees he totally agrees. “Just a sec, though,” he croaks, and he leans down to kiss his best friend.

The noise Castiel makes is better than anything that filtered out through the door. His arms go around Sam’s neck. 

That night, the sock on the door goes back in the drawer where it belongs.