kelios: (Default)
Title: Answer the Call
Artist: kelios
Author: maryjo24
Other Pairing(if applicable): none
Rating: NC17
Warnings/Spoilers: murder, gore, mental illness

Summary: Jared Padalecki's at the top of his game, everyone's darling, and fresh off a break-up (albeit, unlamented), he meets and immediately hits it off with photographer Jensen Ackles. But there are dark influences that threaten the emerging relationship, a darkness that rises with the new moon and leads to death.



Jan. 31st, 2016 12:25 am
kelios: (Default)

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Warnings: Blowjobs, face fucking, semi-public sex, slight d/s overtones
Summary: Why did Jensen have to change pants at Jaxcon?

Jensen yanked the stupid beanie off Jared’s head, desperate to get his hands into his hair, muttering in between kisses. “God--Jay--such a--fucking--tease” Jared let him, kissing back just as hard, eyes sparkling as Jensen pushed him against the wall of the green room.

“Not a tease if I follow through,” Jared said slyly.

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kelios: (Default)

Title: Devil's in the Details, But You're My Big Picture
Author: kelios
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: Episode tag for Devil in the Details. Sam and Dean's trip to Hell has left them both a little unsettled.

Sam settles into the car with a groan as Dean drops into the driver’s seat with an answering sigh. They’re both a little stiff, more than a little sore, but they’ll live. They’ll live and neither of them is an angel condom and Sam can feel the leftover rage and adrenaline still pulsing through him, shot through with dark satisfaction. They won. They beat the devil again, on his own turf, and as sore as he is Sam can’t help leaning across the seat, reaching for his brother.

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kelios: (Default)

Author: kelios
Title: Your Kink Is Not My Kink (Or Maybe It Is)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Summary: Written for this prompt on the spn-kinkmeme:
Dean loves food. Dean loves to cook for Sam. Dean loves the bunker kitchen. Sam just loves Dean in his apron and likes to fuck his older brother on every available surface in said bunker kitchen.
Warnings: Wincest, misuse of pie filling, rimming

Dean likes to cook. He knows it’s maybe a little odd for someone with his background, but he figures that’s actually part of it--he’s spent so much time eating salt with a side of grease in shitty diners that it’s only natural he’d want something good when he got the chance. He’s spent years thinking about all the things he’d make if he ever got access to a really nice kitchen--and the one in the bunker definitely qualifies.

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kelios: (Default)

Author: kelios
Rating NC-17
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Summary: Jared and Jensen really need some time to themselves, with no one else around. The weekend before Christmas break is their last chance for awhile, and they take it.

Inspired by Jensen and Jared's trip to Whistler to go skiing this weekend :)

“Jen?” Jensen looks up to see Jared leaning against the bedroom doorway. He’s not dressed yet, even though Clif will be there in a maybe half an hour, and the dark circles under his eyes hurt Jensen's heart. “Can we talk for a minute?” Jensen stops digging through the drawer for a clean tshirt and frowns, slightly worried.

“Sure, Jay. What’s going on, is everything all right?”

Jared smiles quickly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, of course. It’s just…I was thinking….What do you think about staying here this weekend? We could go up to the cabin in Whistler. We haven’t been there in ages.”

Jensen raises an eyebrow. “What about the kids?”

Jared stares down at his coffee cup. “We’ll see them next weekend,” he says quietly, and Jensen knows how hard it is for him to say those words, knows how hard it is for him to ask anything for himself. “But I…I need it. We’ve barely seen each other except for work and I just…”

Jensen’s across the room before Jared even gets the words out. “I think it’s a great idea,” he says quietly, pressing his forehead to Jared’s so they’re breathing the same air. “Some alone time will do us both some good.” He tries to lighten the mood a little. "Maybe we'll even go skiing."

If there’s anything Jensen loves more than seeing Jared’s face light up….Well. There isn’t, that’s all there is to it.

“You think we’ll have time to ski?” It comes across as teasing, but there’s enough heat in Jared’s voice to melt what little snow they’ve gotten this year in Vancouver.

“I think if you want me to be able to work next week we better make some time,” Jensen returns, grinning up at him. He knows Jared is right about being busy--they’ve spent hardly any time alone together the last few weeks that didn’t involve one or both of them being asleep. It hits Jensen, suddenly, just how much he’s missed Jared.

Jared smirks at him. “Is that a challenge?”

“Ha. Go put some clothes on, Sasquatch. Clif will be here in 10 minutes.” Jensen watches Jared walk away, noticeably happier, and finishes his own early morning rituals in a much better mood himself.

Whether it’s anticipation or just luck, Friday’s filming goes smoothly. Jared calls their travel agent and tells him to cancel their flight, Jensen calls the housekeeping service they use in Whistler and has them send someone over to air out the cabin, everyone hits their marks. They even keep the joking to a minimum—no one wants to go over tonight. The light all but shining out of Jared makes Jensen’s heart ache with how much he wants to see it every day, and he decides then and there that something has to give. He’s not sure what or how, but the new year is going to bring some changes for them.

Despite getting done with work at a reasonable hour, by the time they finish packing and Clif drives them to Whistler it’s nearly midnight. They wave their driver off to the hotel and stumble inside, glad to be able to just stop for a little while. There’s a fire laid in the fireplace, and Jensen is contemplating lighting it when Jared comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on Jensen’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I know—“

“—That I need time with you as much as you need time with me?” Jensen interrupts, turning in the circle of Jared’s arms to face him, hands settling on the curve of Jared’s hips where they belong. “That’s good, because I don’t ever want you to forget.” He looks at Jared mock-sternly. “And now, young man, I think it’s time for you to go to bed and get some sleep.”

“Oh?” Jared grins, dimple peeking out. “Is that what they’re calling it these days….”

Jensen drags Jared a little closer, letting him feel how much Jensen likes being where he is. “That’s what I call it,” he says, leaning up and kissing Jared slowly and thoroughly. Jared melts into him, one hand sliding down grip Jensen’s ass while the other cups the back of Jensen’s head.

“If we’re doing anything anywhere other than right here we’d better get moving,” Jared whispers against Jensen’s mouth. “Not sure if I can restrain myself otherwise…”

Jensen steps back with a laugh, shaking his head as he licks Jared’s taste from his lips. Jared lets him go, tracking the motion with eyes gone dark with need. “Jen….”

Jensen doesn’t step back into Jared's arms. “Uh-uh, no way. I am not letting you fuck me on the floor again.” He points to a now invisible mark on his forehead. “Remember this? Never. Again.”

Jared laughs, head thrown back and dimples in full force, and Jensen has never been able to resist that laugh. He was gone from the first time he heard it. Jared steps forward, hands out, but Jensen evades him neatly, grabbing a pilot’s case from the floor and heading to the bedroom. “You just gonna stand there all night?” he asks, throwing a come hither look over his shoulder. “Or you gonna come fuck me through the mattress like you promised earlier?”

Jared doesn’t need to be asked twice.

They don’t make it to the slopes til after noon the next day. Even Jared sleeps in, wrapped around Jensen as though he can’t bear an inch of space between them even in sleep. Jensen isn’t complaining—he feels that same need. He hadn’t realized how thin the thread he’d been holding onto had gotten, how much he needed to recharge, to just be with Jared in the peace and quiet with no one demanding their attention but each other. And, Jared puts out body heat like a small furnace, and it’s particularly welcome in the chilly cabin.

Still, all good things must come to an end. Eventually Jared’s stomach and Jensen’s bladder complain enough that they let go—reluctantly, with several one last kisses—long enough to get up and take care of the basics. The smell of coffee drifts over them as soon as they open the bedroom door—after nearly a decade of service, the housekeeping staff always sets a timer for them now. Jensen inhales gratefully and stretches, wincing at the pull of muscles that might be a little overtaxed from last night. Jared watches him, something hot and possessive in his eyes as he fills two mugs and passes one over to Jensen.

“You gonna make it on the slopes, old man?” Jared teases. “Or did I break you last night?”

“Fuck you,” Jensen says cheerfully, feeling better now that he’s fortified with coffee.

Jared goes still, cheeks and the tip of his nose turning pink. Heat washes over Jensen and he steps in close, sitting his coffee on the counter. “Yeah?” he says, leaning up to breath the words into Jared’s ear. “That what you want, Jay?” He pushes forward, caging Jared with his hands on the counter as he rolls his hips. “Want me to take you back to bed and work you open with my fingers so you can take me?” Jared sucks in a shaky breath, and Jensen smiles, closing his teeth on the hinge on Jared’s jaw, right in that spot that drives Jared crazy. “Or maybe I’ll use my tongue first, get you sloppy wet so I can just slide right in. You’re so tight when I do it that way, Jay. You’d feel it for days.”

Jared groans against Jensen’s temple, hips rolling in desperate little circles against him. “Yes,” he gasps, “God yes, Jensen, just do it—“ He tries to catch Jensen’s lips with his, but Jensen pulls back.

“No can do, babe,” he says wickedly. “Clif will be here in an hour, we’ve barely got time to get cleaned up as it is—“

Jared growls, grabbing Jensen by the hips and flipping him so their positions are reversed. “Fucking tease,” he mutters, but he’s smiling. “Show you what happens when you tease—“ In one quick move he lifts Jensen up and onto the counter top, kissing him hard and fast. This time Jensen doesn’t pull back. Instead he throws his arms around Jared’s neck, locks his legs around Jensen’s waist and kisses him like they haven’t touched in weeks. Jared growls again, nipping Jensen’s lip as he drags his boxers down, balancing Jensen on the edge of the counter.

“Do it,” Jensen gasps into Jared’s mouth. “Come on, come on—“

Jared gets them both naked, or close enough to work with. “Hold the counter,” he orders, panting, and slides Jensen right to the edge. His grip on Jensen’s hips tightens, muscles flexing to take the weight as he holds him steady. Jensen shifts, getting one hand on Jared’s cock, spreading the wetness leaking from the head as much as he can. Jared hisses, biting his lip as he struggles to stay still, the slick channel of Jensen’s hand sending sparks up his spine.

“Kiss me,” Jensen tells him breathlessly, and Jared does, breathing messily into Jensen’s mouth as he pushes in, tight heat gripping him mercilessly.

“Fuck…”Jensen groans through gritted teeth. He’s still loose from the night before but there’s not enough slick to make the push smooth yet. He breathes through it, forcing himself to relax. “Move, Jay, go on.”

Jared waits brief moment, then starts to move with short, quick strokes. Jensen throws his head back, moaning as Jared abuses the hell out of his prostate, shoving him perilously close to the edge. “Jared—Jay—fuck, fuck--“

“Feel so good, Jen.” Jared’s fingers tighten on Jensen’s hips, probably leaving another set of bruises but Jensen doesn’t care. Jared is fucking him hard and fast, leaning in to kiss him and trapping Jensen’s cock between them. The friction is just this side of enough, and Jensen is about ready to beg for Jared’s hand to push him over when Jared shifts and bites down on his neck right under his jaw and sucks. The flare of pleasure-pain that rockets through him along with the idea the that Jared is marking him throws him almost violently over the edge. His whole body locks down as he comes, muscles clenched tight around Jared, white streaking over both their chests almost to Jensen’s chin. Jared keeps fucking him through it, keeps sucking that spot on his neck, tiny, desperate sounds leaking out around his sealed lips as he finally loses it inside Jensen, filling him with warmth.

Afterwards they hold each other, kissing and shivering through the occasional aftershocks. Finally, Jared pulls out as gently as he can, wincing at Jensen’s discomfort. He gives Jensen one final kiss and licks over the really spectacular bruise on Jensen’s neck one last time before sighing happily.

“I guess we better go shower,” he says reluctantly. “Clif will be here pretty soon.”

Jensen smirks. “Guess we don’t want him getting an eyeful,” he agrees. “C’mon, I’ll race you to the shower.”

Jared manages not to laugh. “Yeah, okay. Um.” Jensen glares at him half heartedly.

“Not a word,” he orders, walking carefully toward the bathroom. “Come on.”

As always, Jared doesn’t need to be told twice.

We Time

Nov. 23rd, 2015 03:50 am
kelios: (Default)
Title: We Time
Author: Kelios
Relationship: Jared/Jensen, implied Genevieve/pizza, implied Danneel/Gino
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: not even remotely true, in fact this is pretty close to crackfic.

Summary: Jared and Jensen decide to take their family somewhere warm for the holidays.

It’s a long flight. Jared and Jensen have been traveling for over 12 hours by the time they land in Georgetown, and they still have at least a couple of hours to go before they can relax. Genevieve and Danneel keep the kids in check with the help of Maggie, their nanny, while the luggage is unloaded, keeping the wound up toddlers from running too wild after hours of being cooped up in a tiny plane. They make it through customs, arrange for the bulk of their luggage to be delivered, and finally, finally pack themselves and their carryons into the Range Rovers the rental agency had supplied. By unspoken agreement Jared and Jensen settle into one vehicle with Genevieve and Danneel, while Maggie and the kids take the second car.

“Not much longer now,” Jensen says tiredly. He slips his hand over Jared’s and squeezes gently, ignoring the pointed stare Genevieve shoots his way. Jensen stares back, too tired to play games. “You know, Gen, you should call ahead, let the staff know we’re almost there. That way she can have a snack ready for the kids. They’ve got to be starving.” Gen’s stare goes from pointed to outright daggers but Jensen just smiles sweetly and turns back to Jared.

Jared smiles at him, exhaustion showing clearly, and Jensen presses a gentle kiss to his temple. He can see Danneel in the front passenger’s seat typing fast and furious on her phone, wearing that little smile she only ever has for Gino—a relationship Jensen has never understood and generally tried really hard not to think about.

There’s a stiff, uncomfortable silence after that, but once they leave the airport grounds their driver cheerfully begins pointing out local sights and attractions. Danneel and Gen both perk up at the mention of exclusive boutiques Jensen has never even heard of and he tries not to think about what the next few days will do to his credit balance. He focuses instead on Jared’s excitement when the driver—his name is Benjamin, he tells them at one point—mentions scuba diving and jet skis. To be honest he’s kind of excited about that himself, and not just because he’s looking forward to Jared rubbing sun screen over every inch of his body in a vain attempt to prevent more freckles from showing up. That’s just an extra perk.

Jensen’s almost dozed off by the time they reach the rental house. It’s huge, with 6 bedrooms and 8 baths as well as a detached guest house for the cook and drivers, and set well back from the modest road to ensure privacy. It’s a short stroll out the back door down to a private beach and Jensen can’t help smiling at how perfect it is. The kids jump out of their Rover, followed by the nanny, and the rest of the adults follow suit, stretching after the long trip.

“If only we could bottle that energy,” Jared says wryly, watching the kids play on the well manicured lawn. Jensen just laughs at him, feeling his exhaustion slip away at the prospect of hitting the beach for an hour or two before dinner.

“C’mon, old man,” Jensen teases. “Let’s get these kids changed and have some fun.” Before Jared can retort, he’s gone, chasing the kids toward the front door as they squeal and shriek and laugh. Jared shakes his head fondly and joins them, grabbing up JJ and Shep and hoisting them over his shoulders as Jensen grabs Thomas. They’re both a little winded by the time they get to the front door, and JJ clamors to be let down so she can ring the doorbell. The two men share a smile as the little girl waits impatiently for the door to open, then shrinks back when a stranger appears moments later.

“Good afternoon,” the woman says in softly accented English. “You must be the Ackles family.” She steps back to let them in with a smile. Jensen offers his hand immediately.

“I’m Jensen and this is Jared,” he says, shaking her hand firmly and letting Jared do the same. “Thanks so much for agreeing to work with us.”

“Sophie,” she says with a nod. “It’s my pleasure.” She smiles down at the three children peeking out at her. “And who are these little ones?”

Jared nudges the kids forward. “JJ, Shep and Thomas,” he says, gently touching each child as he names them. “Otherwise known as the unholy terrors.” Sophie laughs down at them.

“Somehow I doubt that!” she exclaims. “But please, come in, all of you. Since I knew you were nearly here I made a light snack for everyone.” Gen, Danneel and Maggie arrive at the door and introduce themselves as everyone files inside, the kids chattering eagerly about snack time. Jensen winces as he hears Genevieve demand to know if there is pizza available, and if not how quickly it can be delivered. Her voice has that whine that it tends to get when pizza is involved, and he wonders, not for the first time, how someone who loves pizza as much as she does can stay so slender. He shakes his head, determined not to worry about anyone but himself, Jared and their kids for the week--Gen will just have to get her pizza on her own for the next seven days.

Inside, the house is every bit as nice as the outside. It’s open and airy, with large rooms and furniture designed for comfort and relaxation rather than just show, something Jensen already appreciates. The kitchen has an open plan with a long counter for casual meals, and he and Jared help the kids clamber up onto the padded stools as Sophie brings out plates of fresh cut fruit and yogurt for the children to enjoy.

“I’m going to go look around, check out the bedrooms,” Danneel announces after the kids are settled. She smiles coyly at Jensen, more out of habit than anything else, but he just raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going too,” Genevieve announces. Her expression says she doubts very much anything will be up to her standards, but Jensen ignores her, and nudges Jared with his elbow when it looks like he won’t. It’s not too hard for Jensen to resist Gen’s needling, but Jared, with his genuine desire to like and be liked by everyone around him, is a much easier target. Jared snaps his mouth shut at the reminder and smiles at Gen politely as she scowls at them both and then flounces off.

“I’ll check out the nursery,” Maggie says, pretending to ignore the swirling tensions—she’s pretty good at that, something both Jared and Jensen appreciate. “You still want all three kids in one room?”

Jared nods. “Yeah, let’s stick to the plan for now,” he says. “We can always switch it around later if we need to.” He aims his 1000 watt smile at her in thanks, and Jensen can practically see her melting. He reminds himself that she’s old enough to be Jared’s mother, and that they’re very lucky to have her thank you very much. She really is wonderful with the children, all of whom adore her. He calls her back for a moment.

“Can you find the kids’ swimsuits?” he asks when she pauses. “I want to check out the beach before dinner.” The word beach catches everyone’s attention and the kids start talking excitedly. Maggie just nods over the ruckus and disappears further into the house to find the nursery.


All in all them manage to settle in with minimal trouble. Benjamin and the other driver, Emmanual, bring in the overnight bags they’d stowed in the backs of the Range Rovers and Jared and Jensen get the kids into their swimsuits with no more fuss than usual. Gen changes her room three times before finally settling on the one closest to where Jared and Jensen are sleeping, and Danneel settles down on the porch with a bottle of scotch and her phone, saying she doesn’t care which room is hers as long as it has a bed. She’s wearing her Gino smile again, and Jensen doesn’t interrupt beyond a perfunctory invitation to join them on the beach that she declines.

Once the kids are ready to go, Jensen and Jared duck into their room to get changed. It’s huge, with an oversized four poster bed, two walk in closets, a furnished sitting area (with some very sturdy looking chairs, Jensen is pleased to note) and an attached bathroom larger than some hotel rooms they’ve stayed in. Jensen leans against a bedpost, watching, as Jared rummages through their bag and pulls out two pairs of trunks before pulling his shirt up and over his head.

“Mmmm,” Jensen murmurs, smiling. “Nice view this place has.”

Jared grins at him from under his bangs. “Yeah?”

Jensen crosses the short distance in two strides, unable to keep his hands off Jared’s skin now that it’s right there for the touching. “Definitely. Wouldn’t trade it for anything.” He slides his hands up Jared’s narrow waist, not stopping til he can cup Jared’s face and pull him in for a quick kiss that ends up being anything but. Jared tastes like the strawberries he stole off the fruit plate in the kitchen, and Jensen can’t help but lick and suck every inch until it’s all gone. Jared groans faintly against him, hands burrowing under Jensen’s tshirt, rucking it up to thumb at his nipples. Jensen pulls back at that, let’s Jared yank his shirt off before capturing his mouth again.

“Feel so good, Jen” Jared whispers, leaving those plush lips to bite at Jensen’s jaw as his hands roam restlessly over Jensen’s back. “Can’t wait to get back here tonight and touch every single inch.”

Jensen sighs, rocking his hips forward into Jared just to hear him gasp. “We better get going or you won’t have to wait long at all,” he mock growls, moving back reluctantly. Jared kisses him again, fast and dirty, before stepping back with a grin.

“If I weren’t afraid Maggie would quit if we left her alone with the kids that long, I’d take you up on that,” Jared says, grabbing his shorts. Jensen watches appreciatively as Jared kicks off his jeans, revealing long, sculpted legs that seemed to go on for miles. His teeth sink into his lower lip as he thinks about later tonight, and how he’s going to lick every single inch of that gorgeous body until Jared is begging him to—

“I love the way you look at me,” Jared says, hitting Jensen in the chest with his swim trunks and interrupting the very pleasant fantasy he’s got going on. “But if you don’t stop I’m going to have to throw you down on that bed and keep you there til sometime tomorrow morning at the very least.”

“Promises, promises,” Jensen smirks, but he picks up his trunks and changes quickly, resisting the temptation show off. He smiles up at Jared when he’s done, stepping close for one last quick kiss before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. “Family time first,” he says, and just saying it sends a thrill through him that he doesn’t think will ever get old. Jared smiles, and it feels like the sun coming out, warming him all the way down to his bones.

They step through the door together.
kelios: (Default)
Title: Nothing Bad Will Ever Happen to Me (Not Even You)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: simulated non-con, simulated somnophilia, wincest

Dean drives Sam crazy with his mother henning, there’s no doubt about that. But days like today? When Sam is ready to find a crossroad and beg whatever demon shows up to make the pain to go away? He’s grateful that he doesn’t have to say a word for Dean to know just what he needs. He crawls into the backseat and pulls off his flannel overshirt, balling it up into a pillow with just enough left to cover his eyes. It doesn’t make the pain go away, but it helps enough he can pretend he’s not going to gouge his own eyes out with a spork the first chance he gets.

The motel Dean chooses is a little nicer than their usual fare. Hiding in the back seat means Sam doesn’t know if Dean chose it on purpose or if it was the only game in town. Then again, Sam doesn’t actually care about anything right now except Dean pulling the blackout curtains and dropping the room into blessed darkness. Sam collapses on the bed farthest from the door, not even bothering to take off his shoes, but Dean’s having none of that.

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean says with that gentleness he reserves for true fuckedupedness. “If you get mud on the bed you’ll bitch all night, and I’m not switching with you.” He pulls off Sam’s boots and socks, then tugs on the hem of his jeans. Sam groans, but Dean just tugs again. “Go on,” Dean orders. “You know you’ll be more comfortable.” He turns away as Sam mutters bossy under his breath but pops the button on his jeans and shoves them off and onto the floor before sprawling across the bed.

Dean’s right. He is more comfortable. When Sam’s like this, he hates it more than usual when Dean’s right, but that doesn’t stop him from accepting the pills Dean offers on his way out the door.

“Gonna hit that bar a few miles back, see if I can scare up some reserve cash,” Dean says, speaking as quietly as he can. “Maybe we’ll celebrate when I get back, yeah?”

Sam does his best to smile, but judging by Dean’s wince he probably doesn’t succeed. He waits for the door to close before he swallows the pills dry, pointedly ignoring the bottle of whiskey Dean had set on the nightstand. He’d rather not asphyxiate on his own vomit, thanks. He closes his eyes, buries is face in the pillow, and does his best to relax.


Sam comes awake gradually. Fingers slip across his cheek, stroking his hair, his ear. He knows it’s Dean, he’d know Dean’s hands anywhere, but this…Dean has never touched him like this before, so much gentleness, so much tenderness. Sam knows he should stir, give Dean a chance to move away, but he can’t. He can’t. Not yet. He just wants a few more moments for himself, no matter how selfish he feels.

Dean pulls in a shaky breath, and Sam hears the cap from the bottle of whiskey hit the nightstand as Dean takes a long drink. Then his hand lands on Sam’s shoulder, heavy and warm. “Sam?” he says. “Hey, Sammy, wake up, man.”

Sam doesn’t stir. He just wants one more moment of Dean’s attention to savor, that’s it, then he’ll sit up and they’ll go out to dinner and everything will be fine. He hears Dean take another drink, hand still gentle and firm on his shoulder. “Never understood why you wear so many layers, Sammy,” Dean says quietly. Sam can hear the slur in his words, but it’s still a shock when Dean trails his hand down Sam’s back in a warm caress. He can’t help the twinge of disappointment he feels when Dean stops right before his fingers stroke the bare skin between his t-shirt and his boxers. Then he feels it, the rough callouses of Dean’s fingers on his skin as Dean lets himself touch.

Sam bites back a moan, fights not to arch into Dean’s touch. “Fuck,” he hears Dean whisper. Then, “Sammy” almost reverently, almost like a prayer as he flattens his hand on the bare skin of Sam’s back, stroking the smooth skin. This time Sam can’t stop the shiver that rolls through him, can’t help the whimper that escapes as he realizes with instant clarity that he has no intention of stopping this, that he’s going to take whatever Dean will give him regardless of the consequences.

Dean falls to his knees next to the bed, and the press of his lips against Sam’s hip nearly undoes him. It’s all Sam can do to keep quiet as Dean moans against his skin, and all his good intentions disappear completely as Dean’s restless hands grip and knead Sam’s ass. Sam’s body takes over, bucking up against the fingers pushing against his sensitive opening, wanting more.

“Dean,” Sam moans helplessly, grinding down against the mattress. He’s already almost painfully hard, years of pent up desire filling his cock and fogging his brain far more than the painkillers he’d taken earlier. Dean jerks his hand back as if burned, and it takes all of Sam’s willpower not to beg Dean to touch him again. Sam forces himself to lay still, ears straining. He can hear Dean breathing, panting almost, then the sound of Dean’s zipper easing down almost breaks his resolve again. Dean groans a little, but doesn’t touch Sam, and Sam’s mind spins crazily at the thought of Dean jerking off on his back, on his face oh God, branding him, changing him forever.

But it doesn’t happen, even though Sam hears the rattle of Dean’s belt as it hits the floor. Sam doesn’t let himself move, hoping against hope that Dean will finish what he started.

Sam’s concentrating so hard on staying still that he almost misses what Dean’s saying. “Maybe it’s my turn to have something good,” Dean mutters roughly, and Sam feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. “Maybe it’s my turn to just take what I want.”

And fuck if that doesn’t turn Sam on even more, the idea that Dean—fiercely protective, loving Dean, the brother who has never done anything but care for Sam their whole lives—the idea that Dean could so lose himself to this thing between them, could let himself go far enough to simply take what he wants for once in his life.  It’s messed up, Sam gets that—he should be pissed as hell by what Dean is doing. But all he can feel is relief twisted up with desire and want so strong he isn’t sure he can control himself long enough not to screw it all up.

Dean’s voice tapers off, muttering under his breath as something thumps onto the bed next to Sam and the mattress dips under Dean’s weight. Sam tries to breathe normally, but that goes out the window when Dean pushes Sam’s shirt up, baring more skin to the cool motel room air. Sam gasps when Dean hooks his fingers in Sam’s boxers, tugging them down so slowly it’s torture. He can’t help himself, whimpering into the pillow and rutting into the mattress as Dean runs his hands up Sam’s legs, groaning under his breath at the feel of Sam’s skin under his hands. His cock, wet and hard, brushes Sam’s leg, dotting the skin with precome as Sam tries desperately to remain still enough not to give himself away. He feels like he could come just from this, just from Dean’s hands cupping, kneading the smooth, firm muscle of his ass as he gently spreads Sam open.

Fuck fuck fuck Sam thinks wildly. There’s no way he can stay quiet for this, no way he won’t give himself away. His hips have a mind of their own, grinding into the coarse hotel comforter in a way that’s almost as much pain as pleasure. He can hear Dean whispering over him, but he can’t make out the words except his name Sammy Sammy Sammy which seems appropriate since Sam can’t seem to say anything but Dean.

Sam moans, almost a sob, as Dean leans forward to blow warm air over his hole then lick the tender skin. Dean hasn’t shaved since morning, and his stubble burns deliciously against Sam’s skin, the contrast driving him wild. Dean seems to realize what he’s doing to Sam, rubbing his face all over, nipping and outright biting in between licking over Sam’s hole and balls, driving Sam insane. Finally, finally he stops teasing and pushes his tongue inside the tight ring of muscle. Sam can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but writhe helplessly underneath Dean, moaning Dean’s name like a prayer, begging for more as quietly as he can. Tomorrow, he thinks wildly, tomorrow he’s going push Dean onto the bed and ride his face until they both come, until Sam can scream his pleasure as loudly as he wants.

Dean pulls back after a few minutes, sweet relief that only makes Sam more desperate when Dean replaces his mouth with his fingers. Dean twists them, stretching and pulling, and God, Sam is going to lose it any second. Dean finds his prostate and strokes him mercilessly, relentlessly. Sam bites his lip so hard he’s surprised he can’t taste blood, doesn’t think he can take much more even though he never wants it to end. He nearly sobs with relief when Dean finally tugs his fingers free even as he can’t help rocking back against Dean’s hand in protest at the same time.

Dean doesn’t make him wait long. Sam hears the crinkle of a condom wrapper, Dean’s hiss of pleasure as he slides it on, and then he’s back. He rubs the head of is dick over Sam’s swollen, sensitive hole, teasing again, and Sam tenses in anticipation. Dean pushes forward, finally, then stops when he feels how tight Sam still is. Sam does his best to hold still, but it hurts when Dean shoves, soft apology soothing Sam along with his hands as Dean strokes his back and hair gently. Dean works his way in slowly, murmuring praise and love so good for me Sammy, so beautiful look so pretty on my cock and it’s so good, each slow, steady stroke wracking Sam’s body with pleasure like he’s never felt.

Dean stops when he’s finally all the way in, Sam gasping underneath him, shuddering at how amazing it feels to be so full of Dean. His brother only gives him a moment to adjust before he’s pulling out again, thrusting back in harder this time, setting up a rhythm that Sam tries to match. Dean’s hands are locked onto Sam’s hips, hauling Sam up and back to meet him with every thrust, and Sam can’t wait to see the bruises he’s going to have tomorrow, to press them and savor this moment again. He groans when Dean slows, suddenly, then rearranges himself against Sam’s back so that he can force his hand underneath Sam. Dean gets a hand on Sam’s cock, warm and rough and calloused and Sam loses it, two strokes and he’s coming harder than he ever has in his life, twisting and writhing under his brother like he’s possessed, biting his lip so hard tears spring to his eyes as he tries not to cry out.

Dean fucks him through the aftershocks, hard and fast and if he could Sam thinks he’d be getting hard again because there’s something about being used, about being fucked for nothing but Dean’s pleasure that lights something inside of him on fire. He feels Dean tighten, feels him pulse against the condom and shudders again, wishing he could feel Dean bare inside him. Dean collapses on top of him, heavy and warm, for a brief moment before pulling out and away. Sam wishes Dean would stay, adds the idea of wrapping himself happy and spent around his brother to his list of things he’s going to do tomorrow and hopefully every day for as the foreseeable future.

Dean rolls off the bed and staggers into the bathroom. Sam smiles and stretches, enjoying the ache in his ass and hips, imagining the bruises he’s going to have in the morning. He’s tired, blissed out from possibly the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced on top of the residual painkillers still in his system. He’s trying to keep his eyes from drifting closed as his mind tries to turn itself off, needing to stay awake until Dean comes back, but it’s a losing battle.

Sam’s still asleep when Dean comes back out of the bathroom, still sprawled facedown on the bed. The sight hits Dean like a punch to the gut. Sam looks debauched, fucked out and used, and all he can think is how gorgeous Sam looks like this, how much he wants to fall into bed next to his brother and do all of this again the next morning.

That doesn’t last long.

Sam looks debauched, used. He’s bruised, swollen, covered in lube and come. Dean did that, Dean raped his brother, and the shocked realization knocks the breath out of him. He collapses on the empty bed, sick with guilt and horror.

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean whispers hoarsely. “God, I’m so sorry.”

After a moment Dean forces himself to stand, goes into the bathroom again and comes out with a warm wet cloth. He cleans Sam as gently and carefully as he can, wiping up drying lube and come. Dean, Sam sighs, shifting, arching into Dean’s touch as if he craves it. It hurts Dean’s heart—he doesn’t deserve even this much acknowledgement from Sam, doesn’t deserve to touch him again, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t hide what happened here, but he hopes this might make Sam feel less violated when he wakes, and—selfishly--Dean knows this is probably the last time he’ll ever touch Sam, take care of him, and he wants to savor it. To remember. If he can take any memory to hell, let it be this.

Dean shifts Sam gently onto his side, away from the cooling wetness underneath him. He wipes Sam down carefully, then pulls Sam’s discarded boxers up over his hips before grabbing the coverlet from the other bed and tucking it in around his brother. Sam shifts onto his side almost immediately, hair falling over his eyes, and Dean has to resist the sickening urge to push it away, knowing he can never trust himself to do that again.

After a few moments of watching Sam sleep, Dean turns away, more determined than ever to do the right thing. He grabs a clean pair of boxers from his duffle and dresses quickly, grateful that he hadn’t had a chance to unpack anything yet. In a matter of minutes he’s ready to go, three quick steps to the door before he stops with his hand on the knob, caught by the pen and paper next to the phone.

I’m sorry, Sam is all he manages to scrawl before his vision blurs, but it will have to be enough. He closes the door behind him as quietly as he can, sits in the Impala with his head resting against the steering wheel as he finally lets the tears drip down his face. It hurts, having his heart ripped out of his chest with his own hands, but he knows he has no one to blame but himself. It's better this way, he tells himself bleakly, and puts the car into drive and pulls away into the darkness.

kelios: (Default)
Title: Water under the Bridge
Rating: G
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: non
Summary: Sam hopes Dean doesn't make him wait too long.
A/N: Drabble written for twitter based on the linked picture.

Neither of them sleep all that well these days, but Dean still drinks enough to pass out sometimes, runs himself into exhaustion so deep his body can't help but give in. Even that doesn't bring a restful, peaceful sleep though; Dean tosses and turns and moans in his sleep, far more vocal than Sam ever remembers him being before.

He doesn't like to admit it, even to himself, but those nights are his favorites.

He carefully--very carefully, they are both big guys after all, and Sam's not entirely convinced the motel room beds are even really queensized--lays down next to Dean in his bed, under or over the covers depending on what Dean chose. The effect is nearly instantaneous--Dean always calms, turning his face toward Sam with a soft sigh as the tension leaves his body and he sinks into deeper, more restful sleep. Some nights he turns all the way toward Sam, throws an arm over Sam's chest or wedges a leg between Sam's, pushing his face into Sam's neck and all but collapsing into himself.

Sam's always careful not to move on those nights, barely breathing, not daring to let himself nod off for fear of what he might do. He loves it, though, loves it with a fierce, jealous satisfaction that he can't quite rid himself of, because no one else gets this, no one else has EVER gotten this. No one else has ever done this for Dean, soothed him simply by being present, with just a touch. This side of Dean, soft, vulnerable, open-it's just for Sam. Sam knows that--it's ground into his bones the way Sammy is ground into Dean's.

Sam lets himself hope, sometimes, that these stolen nights might mean something, that they might be a way back to what they used to have, but he's afraid to think of it too often, afraid it might bleed over into their waking moments. For all that Sam pursued Dean when they were younger, he knows there is too much anger, too much resentment, too much that can't be easily taken back for that to happen again. But Sam can't give up. He just hopes Dean won't make him wait too long.
kelios: (Default)
Title: Whatever Our Souls are Made Of, His and Mine are the Same
Rating: Nc-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel
Warnings: Wincest, voyeurism
Summary: Now that the war in heaven is over, Castiel finds himself at loose ends. Watching the Winchesters is one way to pass the time. (Prompt from the first round of Masquerade.)

Watching the Winchesters has become one of Castiel's favorite pastimes. Not their physical bodies, necessarily--although Castiel has found that his vessel does enjoy that occasionally too. No, mostly he watches their souls

Soulmates are rare. Castiel has never seen two of them come together before, and it's endlessly fascinating. He watches them for days, sometimes, as they cycle through love, anger, fondness, exasperation--each emotion taking a different hue and shape, drawing them closer, pushing them farther apart, but never truly separate.

Even when they are miles apart, their souls reach for each other, and sometimes, if he tries very hard, he can feel a distant echo of the ache such distance causes.

Today they are not far apart. Sam has pulled Dean onto his lap, pushed his cock deep inside his brother as he holds him close. Dean's head is thrown back with the pleasure of it, gasping Sam's name, saying things that Castiel once would have considered quite blasphemous. Now, he simply leans closer, straining for a better view, to hear what Sam is saying in return.

Dean Dean god love you, fuck--so fucking much

There is energy building between their souls, borders breaking down as they melt into one another, spilling the pleasure of joining into their bodies. It's stunning, breathtaking, and Castiel isn't surprised to find his vessel hard and aching to be touched. He ignores it to watch, enraptured, as Sam and Dean reach their climax, souls finally becoming the one they were intended to be for a few short moments.

He watches a little longer, faint jealousy tainting his pleasure as he watches them separate and return to their own bodies. He has no soul, will never truly know the pleasure of joining with another the way they do. He may rut with a female vessel, but it will never be like this, it will never be even the poor imitation that most humans achieve when their souls briefly touch. For all of their might and power, he and his brothers will, in this regard, always be lesser. Always alone.

Sam stands, still holding his brother, still joined to him body to body, and they both laugh, sated and content. Sam spills them both onto the bed carefully, gently leaving Dean's body and collapsing next to him. Castiel watches until they fall asleep, and after, longing for things he'll never have. 


May. 5th, 2015 10:55 pm
kelios: (Default)
Title: Flashpoint
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Wincest, piercing, mild pain kink

Summary: Dean's nipples are extra sensitive. Sam can work with that.
Written for a Masquerade prompt requesting nipple play, but I didn't keep the whole thing.

A/N: do not try this at home. Like many things in fic, this is probably a very bad idea to test out on yourself or a loved one.

"Sam, come on, come on," Dean whines, even as he's fucking back onto Sam's fingers. He arches his back as Sam smacks his ass hard, shudder running through him. Sam leans forward over his back, lips just brushing Dean's ear.

"Gotta get you nice and open, big brother," he breathes, nipping the tender skin. "Need to be able to slip right in when I'm ready, because you're going to love your birthday present."

"Such a fucking tease," Dean mutters, but the only heat in his voice is from Sam's hands on his body. He loves what Sam is doing to him, can't get enough, but Sam knows what he needs more than anything else.

"Don't worry, baby, I've got what you need," Sam coos, and Dean tries for a scowl but misses by a mile, mouth dropping open on a moan as the hand not buried to the third knuckle in Dean's ass snakes around to tease his nipple. Sam torments the tender nub, pinches and pulls and rolls it while Dean moans and gasps and begs for more when he can pull enough air into his lungs to form words.

"Please, Sam, Sammy, please, oh fuck, please," Dean begs, and Sam can't wait any longer. He pulls his hand out of Dean's body and flips him over onto his back, latching onto his right nipple and sucking hard. Dean’s entire body bows upward, wordless shout of pleasure ripped out of him as he buries his hands in Sam’s hair. Sam works the nub between his lips, then his teeth, mounding the flesh with both hands until he can leave teeth marks in a perfect circle around the abused flesh. Tears are running down Dean’s face but he doesn’t pull Sam away, just writhes against the thigh Sam has pushed between Dean’s legs, seeking whatever friction he can get on his hard and leaking cock.

Finally Sam lifts his head. His lips are swollen and nearly as red as Dean’s chest, pupils blown until his eyes are more black than hazel. He sets his fingers to Dean’s nipple tugging and pulling as he attacks Dean’s mouth, tongue fucking in and out until they’re both dizzy and panting.

“More,” Dean orders, gasping. “More”. Sam complies eagerly, digging his teeth into Dean’s neglected left nipple, sucking on the tip like a straw. Dean can’t hold back a strangled cry, body all but seizing underneath his brother as Sam rocks against him, sucking and pulling on both sides of Dean’s chest in rhythm.

“Sam. Sam. Sammy,” Dean pants. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna, I need to—“

Sam raises his head long enough to growl “Do it, Dean, come for me,” and Dean explodes underneath him, jets of pearly warmth coating both their bellies as Sam works Dean through his orgasm.

“Fuuuuck,” Dean groans when he can speak again. Sam is lying next to him, still hard, licking over the purpling bruises on his chest.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Sam says, eyes gleaming wickedly. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” He sits up and throws a leg over Dean’s thighs, holding him down. Dean hisses in a breath at the contact on his sensitive cock.

“Don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet,” he says, tilting his hips away. Sam shifts away from the contact, then leans forward to open the drawer of the nightstand and pull out a black leather bag.

“Happy birthday, big brother,” he says, tugging on the zipper. He opens the bag to lay flat on the bed and Dean cranes his neck to see the gleam of silver in neat rows shining against the black felt interior.

“Sam…” he says doubtfully. “We kinda talked about this? And how it wouldn’t work?”

“Do you trust me?” Sam asks seriously. Dean licks his lips and nods, because it’s Sam, what else can he do?

Sam smiles and leans forward, kissing Dean gently. “Arms up,” he says, moving Dean’s hands to grasp the headboard. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, and Dean twitches in surprise when Sam pulls Dean’s legs apart and pushes in with a groan.

He keeps going, eyes locked on Dean’s, until he’s fully seated, balls pressed firmly against Dean’s ass. His eyes flutter closed briefly when Dean clenches around him, half teasing, half begging, but Sam doesn’t move after that except to lean forward and kiss Dean again, softer this time.

When Sam sits up, the first thing he reaches for is a wrapped alcohol wipe. “Gotta be clean,” he says with a ghost of a smile. His hands are shaking just a bit as he tears it open, and Dean hisses in surprise when the cold pad swipes over his left nipple. He’s already half-way to hard again, just from the feel of Sam inside him, and he shudders, anticipation rolling through him.

Sam chooses an odd shaped needle, sharply pointed on one end and with some kind of attachment on the other. Dean’s breath speeds up as Sam gives it a quick swipe then gently grips his nipple and tugs.

“Ready?” Sam asks. He sounds as breathless as Dean feels, and his cock twitches inside Dean’s body as he sets the needle against Dean’s skin. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just begins the slow push through the tender flesh.

Dean’s breath leaves him in a rush as he tries desperately not to arch into Sam’s hand. Sam’s hips move, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside Dean just as the tip of the needle breaks through the other side. “Fuck,” Dean gasps. “Sammy, God, fuck, fuck--“

Dean can’t hold back the full body shiver that wracks his body as Sam begins to fuck his nipple with the needle in the same rhythm that his cock is fucking Dean’s ass. Sam’s panting above him, lip caught in his teeth as his eyes flick back and forth between Dean’s chest and his face as he works both the needle and his cock faster and faster. Dean’s hips buck uncontrollably as he grips the headboard, struggling not to let go, pleasure surging through him faster, harder than he can process. It rips through him, rolling his eyes back in his head and dragging a shout from his throat as his body locks down, spasming and clenching tight as he comes harder than he can ever remember. He feels Sam grind against him, locked tight into his body as he’s flooded with warmth, and the sensation drags him under again, pain and pleasure merging into one exquisite, overwhelming point.

When Dean opens his eyes again, Sam’s cleaning him up. The black bag is out of sight and Sam is tugging a pair of boxers over Dean’s hips.

“Hey,” Sam says, smiling tentatively. “You alright?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been better, Sammy,” Dean tells him. He wants to say more, to tell him what a fucking amazing little brother he is, but his eyes are already slipping closed again on Sam’s now blinding smile. Dean’s whole body aches in the best possible way, and once he’s finished sleeping for a week he plans to show Sam exactly how grateful he is for his birthday present.

For now, though, he’s content to relax into Sam’s warmth and love.

AO3 link for those who prefer:
kelios: (Default)
Title: First Time for Everything
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Wincest, marijuana use, shotgunning
Written for this Masquerade prompt: For all his rebellious attitude at school, Dean never tried smoking weed. It was Sam smoking with his friends, Sam who know what he's doing. He takes Dean through it for the first time. Dean unravels happily in his brother's arms.

extra awesome for banter, kissing at a motel room alone or in the Impala. It'd be lovely if it only happened around the last few years, cause there's a sweetness to doing something like this for the first time after all they've been through, something light in all the hard seriousness, but it'd be beautiful also if it happens when they were teens.

Please, no non con or manipulation. Perhaps Sam suggests it because Dean has been so worried lately - it's not an evil plot.

“Wait. You mean never, never? Not even once?”

Read more... )
kelios: (Default)
Title: Nothing Bad Will Ever Happen to You (Except Me)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Wincest
Warnings: somniphilia, non-con
Summary: “Maybe it’s my turn to have something good,” Dean mutters to the sleeping figure on the bed. “Maybe it’s my turn to take what I want.”

A/N: Written for this Masquerade prompt: Dean screws Sam when he's knocked out from a hunt (or whatever other scenario). Bonus if it's their first time and Dean feels tons of guilt, but does it anyway.
Read more... )
kelios: (Default)
I'm responding to these tweets:

Claire @irkedkiwi
Hi, @kelios. I know this is weird, using my main/alt account and all, but I just wanted to apologize for whatever caused you to block me on

Claire @irkedkiwi
@kelios my fan account, @_weboverload. I really didn't mean to cause you offense. Sorry for what hurt your feelings. Peace and happy newyear

Which were sent to me because I blocked one of the participants in this conversation from a few days ago. The reason I blocked them should be clear, I think, from my explanation.

fireintheimpala @_weboverload
@kelios @brotherslover @J2nicorn it's referring to a specific incident, in which a bunch of openly vulnerable people were targeted last

fireintheimpala @_weboverload
@kelios @brotherslover @J2nicorn night on tumblr with repeated hateful messages telling them to kill themselves, etc.

fireintheimpala @_weboverload
@kelios @brotherslover @J2nicorn but if you want to make jokes about your fandom politics, feel free to reveal yourself that way, i guess?

K-beast @kelios
@_weboverload @J2nicorn @brotherslover hopefully they decided to turn off their anon function. I had to after receiving violent and vicious

k-beast @kelios
@_weboverload @J2nicorn @brotherslover messages. No one needs to see that.

fireintheimpala @_weboverload
@kelios @J2nicorn @brotherslover i possibly misread what you were agreeing to. either way, hate=bad, agreed.

K-beast @kelios
@_weboverload @J2nicorn @brotherslover hate towards other fans or the actors always equals bad, on that we can agree.

@irkedkiwi Good morning. I was going to DM you about this, but realized after some thought that I need for this to be public in order to avoid accusations of hate or abuse.

It's not uncommon for destiel shippers to come into my timeline to complain about things I've said that they find objectionable. Sometimes they are reasonably polite, more often they are not. When someone IS at least marginally polite, I've gotten in the habit of checking their timeline a little later to see if they might be someone I could talk to civilly in the future.

I look for things like other people they interact with (there are a few names I recognize from past encounters) and their reaction to our conversation. Obviously, if someone is friends with people who call me something like 'the hateblob known as k-beast', or state, for example, that our conversation is a complete failure because they feel like they just 'enabled my hate' (that's not a completely accurate quote, but I don't do screenshots, and I don't feel like looking it up again), then I'm not going to want to interact with that person again, and I'm going to block them to make sure it doesn't happen.

As for why I blocked your fandom account--I block anyone that I feel might deliberately or 'accidentally' misinterpret things that I say, take screenshots of my timeline in order to falsely accuse me or my friends of hate, twist what I've said in convos I have with locked accounts to suit their agenda or any generally behave unpleasantly toward me or my friends. I'm aware that blocking doesn't stop someone for searching my timeline while logged out or from an alternate account, but I see no reason to make twitter stalking any easier for the people who do things like threaten to spamblock fans until their accounts are suspended simply for talking to me, or scream at anyone from the show about what a horrible person I am if I so much as say hello.

It's a way for me to fight back against people who attack me and my friends with targeted hate in whatever small way I can without sinking to their level, which I refuse to do. I also occasionally block preemptively if someone sends me a link to untargeted hate or nastiness, which does happen sometimes. It makes me feel safer. It's nice to know I can open my twitter account and not have to worry that someone got bored and decided to take offense to something I said--at least for the accounts I have blocked.

Anyway, I hope this clears up the issue for you. I will leave this account unblocked until I'm reasonably sure you've had a chance to read and save it.
kelios: (Default)
I saw someone post a list like this on tumblr and I thought it would be fun to look back myself.

ETA: this was supposed to be a Top Ten, but I have to include these pics of themselves dressed as Mr and Mrs Clause and enjoying their Aspen ski vacation, There are also some really amazing memories that were intensely personal that I can't share, but that I will definitely always treasure :)

1. The highlight for me definitely has to be the J2/Cast/Crew project that I worked on. Some friends and I spent a couple of weeks raising money and bought a nice gift for the cast/crew, and got customized bottles of JWB (Jensen and Jared remembered that it was Rufus' favorite, which made me very happy) that we were able to give to Jared and Jensen at Vancon. They were were very appreciative and thankful and I'm so glad we were able to tell them how much they mean to us, to fandom and to the show. I loved seeing pictures of the crew with the shotglasses on twitter, and I'm glad we were able to tell them how much we appreciate them all.

2. Jared and Jensen asking me what OTP means, and having them both compliment me on my Brodependency is my OTP tshirt at Vancon.

3. Jared and Jensen leading fans to chant SAMANDDEAN at JIBCon in Rome
(All the J2 parts of JIBCon, actually, together and separately.)

4. Jensen buying a house in Austin less than a mile from Jared.

5. Jensen tweeting this picture (Jared and Jensen):

6. Jensen tweeting this picture (Sam and Dean):

7. This picture of Jared hugging Jensen from the 2nd 200th ep celebration:

8. The love and respect Jared and Jensen got from the CW at the UpFronts:

9. This photo op of Jared and Jensen enjoying their extra hour in the ballpit from Dallascon:

10: Their enthusiasm when I asked them to sign my "I'm proud of us" autograph.
kelios: (Default)
I have some things to say about the tempest in the twitter teapot that happened yesterday. If anyone doesn't want to read them, here's your chance to run away.
Yesterday I RT'd a tweet that included the tag DestielSPNFandomEbola. I should have removed the tag, since as I pointed out later, that's not actually something I believe. I think my later comparison to cold sores is a much more apt description. However, the rest of the tweet was something I agree with wholeheartedly.

The more astute among you might have noticed that this does not sound much like an apology. That's because it's not.

I refuse to apologize for being angry at people who attack me and my friends, personally, with targeted hate, on twitter and elsewhere.

I refuse to apologize for being angry at people who consistently viciously and wrongly attack people I admire and respect, not just on twitter but on a wide variety of social media platforms.

I refuse to apologize for being angry at people who equate Martin Luther King Jr and the Civil Rights Movement with not having a fanon ship made canon on a TV show, as was stated in the recent TV Guide Online article written by a destiel shipper.

I refuse to apologize for being angry at people who demean and belittle the struggle that LGBT people face every day against discrimination and hate, a fight I'm currently facing in my personal life even as I'm typing this, by comparing it to not getting your way concerning a TV show.

I refuse to apologize for having and expressing my opinions. I've always been clear that anyone who doesn't like what I have to say is welcome to unfollow me, and I mean that absolutely--I will not make anyone feel bad for doing so, or demand explanations. I'm grateful beyond measure for my friends in this fandom, and for the people who continue to stand beside me regardless of what we do or don't agree on.
kelios: (Default)

Whew. What a weekend. It was wonderful seeing friends again and meeting people that I’d only talked to online—one of my favorite things about the con. I didn’t arrive until Friday afternoon, and I think the less said about Friday night the better lol (altho Kyline and I *did* do Wincest shots, which amused the hell out of me).

Saturday was really just hanging out with friends and having fun. I loved singing with the Women of Letters—those girls know how to have a great time! I wish I’d spent a little more time with them, but there were SO MANY PEOPLE to see.

Sunday, of course, was the big day. I was super nervous about my photo ops because BALL PIT! but in the end it all worked out :) My photo op with Jensen was great, he gave me a big smile and a hug. My hair was in my face for the first pic so I had to hug him again, which I will never complain about! He was in a great mood, happy and cheerful, and I got a beautiful smile coming and going (and in my photo, too), as well as a ‘thanks again’ and a wink.

My solo with Jared was great too. I love the way he always smiles and just opens his arms—I can’t even think about anything but one of his amazing hugs (I can’t decide if I miss his bonecrushing hugs, or if my back and ribs are grateful ;) As I left he put a hand on my shoulder briefly and said ‘Thank you, always’, which you know. These guys. They give us so much and appreciate us so much. I just love the reciprocal relationship we all have, this mutal appreciation and respect. It’s amazing, and it feels really good to be a part of.

And FINALLY…my J2 op. The whole ball pit idea was literally last minute—I was still buying plastic balls on Friday after work before I left for the con. This whole thing started because my friend Kati (@adorkablekati) had jokingly pouted that Creation didn’t have a ball pit scheduled for Dallascon. I responded by wondering if J2 would have liked an extra hour in the ball pit and man did things go downhill from there! But in the best possible way :D

So I was kind of stressing over the ball pit idea because I had meet and greets with Jared and Jensen, and the timing was going to be kind of tight. The really, really horrible elevator set up at the Dallascon hotel made it worse. But Kati, Jaime and Vinnie helped me work it out and kept me from freaking out while we waited for the end of the J2 photo op line ♥

So we made it into the room (barely, the attendant was kind of O.o) and up to the front of the line, and Jensen gives me this okay WTAF look and says “You know, I don’t usually do inflatables, but for you guys…” Then Vinnie brings over some (blue I’m sorry we had to) balls for each of them to hold and they both kind of lit up as they started tossing them back and forth to (lol at) each other. Jensen grabbed one of Jared’s and started juggling them, and Jared grabbed a few more and tried to juggle as well which did NOT go well for him at all. Balls were going everywhere, and then they started pelting Chris and Clif with them (Jared does have good aim!). The volunteers finally got everyone settled down (by everyone I mean Jared and Jensen, Kati and I were just sort of watching in awe)  and the guys asked what we wanted them to do.

I explained that if they didn’t mind, I’d love to have a picture of them in the ballpit having fun. Kati and I stood to either side of them holding the extra hour in the ball pit sign, then we got out of the way so Chris could snap an extra pic for WinchesterBros to auction off. I thanked them for being such good sports, and Jared hugged me and said “You’re welcome”, which was too funny tho I’m sure he probably wasn’t actually thinking of the mockumentary.

And then that part was over. We staggered out of the room, I went off to take a few deep breaths before Jensen’s meet and greet. They were such good sports, and I love that they were able to have a little fun with us.

kelios: (Default)
Things I do not give a fuck about:
Dean being shirtless.
Sam being shirtless.
Dean apparently being the wussiest, most pathetic demon to ever wuss.
Castiel falling in love with and/or having sex with his sister (since angels are siblings).
Sam boringly torturing humans to somehow get info about Dean.

Things I give a fuck about and which PISS ME THE FUCK OFF:
Dean and Crowley being BFFs.
Dean telling Sam to let him go.
Dean and Crowley bitch/jerk.
The possibility of destiel in the 200th ep.
Jeremy Carver's continued existence as part of my show.
Convention things.
kelios: (Default)
I'm getting ready to send a set of shot glasses and a bottle of Johnny Walker Black to the writers in LA. I couldn't do it beforehand because I had to wait until I actually had the shot glasses, which were manufactured and delivered in Canada.

This is the letter (along with the list of donors) that is going with the bottle and shot glasses:

To the Supernatural Writers,

Of all the crafts that create this show, yours is the most crucial, the most elemental – you charge the collection of particles that collide and expel the energy, the story, of our world. We gather around that vim and verve daily. We grasp at it. We dance with it. We transform it. And we know that without you, there would be no us. Our “we” belongs, in part, to you.

And yes we often bless you with our highest honors in one breath and damn you with our most appalling curses in the next, but those emotions and passions are our proof of life. They are the expanding worlds you fuel when you place your words together and let them slam gloriously into a universe.

Chuck Shurley stated it best, “Writing is hard.” So please see this gift as we intend it. It is our gesture of appreciation, a gesture we know is incomplete but given with complete affection and regard.

Yours with respect. Yours with fondness. And yes, yours with love.

We look forward to another decade of your stories.


kelios: (Default)

December 2016

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