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Don't Have to Go HomeDon't Have to Go Home – a Supernatural Fanfic by Meg Trast
"You can't stay."
The words rattled around Castiel's mind. He searched Dean's face for a sign of jest. Was this another kind of humor that he hadn't yet figured out?
When Dean's expression never changed from sincere, however, Cas's countenance dropped.
Dean was fighting to maintain eye contact, clenching his teeth against the despair in the features of his newly-human friend. Sam comes first, he reminded himself. You're doing this to protect Sam. There is no other way. He wanted to take it back, of course, but Cas had lasted this long. He could take care of himself.
Blue eyes stared up. Castiel didn't speak for a long time, and when he did, all that would come out was, "Oh."
"It's just that, if someone somehow managed to track you here, there is a lot at stake, y'know..." explanations tumbled from Dean's lips, combinations of words that tried to make sense of why he was being a complete ass toward the last p
Timely FashionHalf an hour. Stark had been exactly half an hour late for three consecutive days. Steve Rogers wasn’t quick to doubt; his first inclination was to give Tony the benefit of the doubt. These “Avengers” meetings were a new thing, and Iron Man was a busy man. His philanthropy earned him a soft spot in Steve’s heart. After three days, however, with Tony arriving at precisely 4:30, Cap knew that it wasn’t a holdup. It was a control thing.
Steve had known Tony well enough to recognize when he was being passive aggressive, blind himself as he might try. When Tony arrived late that fourth day, Steve lost his cool.
“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Iron Man.” He said, stiffly. “Thor? Bruce? Aren’t we delighted to see Tony?”
Stark ignored it and sat down. Hulk and the Norse God exchanged confused looks.
“What I miss?” Asked Tony.
Steve bit his tongue as Fury calmly recapped matters already discussed. He gave Stev
HomesickI am the river's son,
my arteries flowing turquoise
and turning to rapids
rushing around my frame,
filling me with this sense
of buoyancy, minnows
tickling my sternum.
I am the river's son.
My palms caress each
silty shoreline, every
battered bank and bend,
and these places I know
so well become me
as my fingerprint,
even the bridge above me
inflamed by the afternoon
sun-glow, burning rusty and
the steel blue sky.
I am the river's son;
I bring my home along
like hermit crab,
where I step
I pull water from the earth.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More