回复：【无授权翻译】【Destiel】多篇小甜文QwQ

tumblr，youreyesarelikestarlightnow，无授权。
哦天哪我已经写过好多盲人设定Cas的梗了。这篇很短，是一个关于Cas是如何瞎了的梗，但可能会有下文？
最初 | 过去 | 未来（？） | AO3
夜幕霭霭，Castiel沉魇于斑斓梦海。
这其中不乏噩梦。
当他睁开眼，夕晖的余潮已袭满空房。落日的潮汐从半开的窗户涌进来，透过那扇窗，Cas能看见一棵似曾相识的树招展着枝桠，而后他意识到，他正在他儿时的卧室，躺在床上裹在凌乱的被单里。他下床踩在冰冷的硬木地板上--这令人回忆起老房子的气息--然后跌跌撞撞地向窗边摸索而去。
天空澄澈碧蓝，比他曾经想像过的还要蔚然，蓝得就好像它有跳动着的脉搏，就好像它是活的。世间万事--树枝上的叶片，邻居家的屋顶，漆成白色的栅栏--都是如此生机勃勃五彩缤纷，它们鲜艳得几乎刺伤他的眼，明媚得让他不得不转开视线。
他的手紧紧握住窗棂，强迫自己接受这一切。当他更年幼的时候，他曾仰望青空，仰望着悠然舒卷的白云，祈祷他能飞翔其上。这就是当他在院子里吹散一支蒲公英时总是在幻想的事，他总是在高大的草间穿梭玩耍直到他的母亲发现并温和地唤他回家。这感觉就像是另一段生命时光，花上一整个午后去想像飞行的感觉，这种飞行不知疲惫，从不坠落，只是永无休止地飞翔前行--
有什么地方不对。空气里有什么搔挠着他的鼻子，这让他感到苦涩难堪。他再次斜窥了一眼天空，太阳的眩光刺痛了他的眼睛，使颜色看起来模糊一片且暴力地冲击着他的视野。它们开始将他囚禁其中，毫不留情地，凶残粗暴地。他转开眼，用力地用手捂住双眼，冷汗从脑后淌下脖颈，脑子一刺一刺地疼痛。色彩的巨浪把他击倒在卧室的墙上，他弯下腰，绝望地紧闭着双眼，向冰冷安静的黑暗寻求救赎。
当他再次睁开眼，视野一片火红。红色，橙色，黄色，组成一面火焰的围墙，带着令人窒息的灰烬的味道充斥着他的肺。他遮住眼睛，仿佛再次回到彷徨迷惑的15岁，紧贴皮肤的衣服融化在身上一般，而他的视野被泪水和灰烬淹没。他的背撞在墙上，于是他踉踉跄跄地扶着墙，寻找一个出口，试图在干燥的空气中呼喊求救。
一缕柔和的阳光从窗外破空而来。
于是他开始下落--不，是飞行。清风轻抚他的发，他所能看到的一切只是周身包围他的、明亮灿然而又无边无际的一洗碧空。在他的脸上出现血色之前，他的嘴角就勾起一抹浅笑。
“Cas？Cas！”
有人透过重重迷雾对他呼喊，于是所有的疼痛都消失了，但他却看不到那个人是谁。他胡乱挥舞着手臂，直到双手触碰到了什么--触碰到了某个人--温暖，柔软，清醒。
Cas醒了。
Dean的双手轻轻捏着他的双肩，无意识的低语传进Cas耳中，轻轻拉着他直到他们两人都再次躺进床里。Cas能听到自己逐渐均匀的呼吸，他紧闭双眼，尽量忽视他温和湿润得能滴出水来的心情。他向Dean的方向靠了靠，感激他的不闻不问，至少在Cas度过这样的夜晚的时候没有询问，而当他在下一个天知道发生了什么的清晨，那些烧焦了的记忆会隐藏在他已然无用的眼睛之后。
他很快就会告诉他的。
在清晨。
而至于现在，他只需要Dean和谧静的黑暗便足以安眠。

Oooh gosh it’s been a while since I’ve written some blind!Cas. This is just some short, kind of vauge, stuff about Cas and how he became blind, but hopefully more to come?
first | previous | next (?) | AO3
At night, Castiel dreams in color.
Including his nightmares.
Sunshine floods the room when he opens his eyes. It streams in from the half-open window, and through it Cas can see the branches of a familiar looking tree, and it’s then he realizes he’s in his childhood bedroom, lying on the bed tangled in rumpled bed sheets. His feet hit the cool hardwood floor—the ever present draft of the old house—and he stumbles over to the window.
The sky is a brilliant blue, bluer than he has ever imagined, so blue it seems almost pulsing and alive. Everything—the leaves on the tree, his neighbor’s roof, the white picket fence—is vibrant and full of color, so much so that it hurts his eyes and he feels the need to look away.
His hands clutch at the window sill and he forces himself to take it in. When he was younger, he used to look to the sky and the wispy white clouds and wish he could fly. That was always what he thought about when he blew dandelion seeds in the backyard, picking through the weeds until his mother noticed and gently scolded him back inside. It feels like another lifetime, spending afternoons imagining what it would be like to fly, never tiring, never falling, just going on and on and on and on—
Something is wrong. Something in the air tickles his nose, bitter and wrong. He squints skyward again and the sun’s glare smarts his eyes, turning the colors blurry and violently harsh. They start caging him in, angrily, mockingly. He turns away, pressing his hands against his eyes, sweat beading on the back of his neck as his head starts to throb. The colors push him against the wall of his bedroom and he doubles over, clenching his eyes shut in desperate search of that cool quiet relief of darkness.
When he opens them again, all he sees red. Reds and oranges and yellows, the walls going up in flames, that smell of trickling gray smoke suffocating his lungs. He shields his eyes, fifteen years old again and confused, lost, his clothes melting into his skin as his vision swims with tears and ash. His back hits the wall and he stumbles against it, looking for an escape, trying to yell for help against the dry air.
A slice of sunlight pierces the air from the window.
And then he’s falling—no, flying. The wind whistles through his hair and all he can see is the bright blue sky above him. Laughter bubbles at his lips before the blood red pain blisters through his head.
"Cas? Cas!"
Someone yells at him through the fog and the pain disappears, but he can’t see who it is. He turns about wildly, arms flailing until they come in contact with something—someone—warm and soft and awake.
Cas is awake.
Dean’s hands softly knead his shoulders and he murmurs gentle nothings in Cas’ ear, pulling until both of them are laying down again. Cas can hear his own breathing evening out and he squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the moisture that beads and rolls down his temple. He presses closer to Dean, thankful that he doesn’t ask, hasn’t asked yet why Cas has his nights like this, when he wakes up at God-knows-what in the morning, memories scorched behind his utterly useless eyes.
He’ll tell him soon.
In the morning.
For now, there’s only Dean and the peaceful darkness of sleep.

(prompt: movie goer!Dean, Cas works at the snack counter)
Dean storms into the movies one Friday night to hide. He needs some time away from his father, away from all the responsibilities that keep piling up. At the movies, he can forget who he is for a little while. He can watch other people’s messed up lives instead.
He buys his ticket then heads for the snack counter. He’s eying the Goobers when the employee comes up behind the counter.
"Pack of Goobers and some popcorn," Dean says. He glances up. "Extra… butter…"
Before Dean, behind the counter, stands a Greek god in the flesh: dark sex hair and electric blue eyes, high cheekbones, pink lips, just a dash of stubble at the jaw.
His nametag reads Castiel.
"Extra butter, you said?" Castiel asks, and his voice doesn’t match his face. It’s deep and rugged, but still sends shivers down Dean’s spine. Cas turns from him and scoops some popcorn into a bag. His hands are wide and his wrists thin. Dean really wants to slide their hands together.
"Uh. What?" Dean says.
Cas looks up, and Dean’s gaping mouth snaps closed. He can’t breathe when confronted with those ridiculously blue eyes.
"On your popcorn?" Cas asks.
"Um, right," Dean says, remembering himself. He’s Dean fucking Winchester, natural flirt and confidence incarnate. He can do this. He deals with hot people all the time. "Right, yeah. On the popcorn." He rests one elbow on the edge of the counter. He clears his throat, cocks a smirk, and says, smooth, "I like sweet things."
Cas pours extra butter on the popcorn and places it on the counter. “Just be careful of all the cholesterol,” he says and reaches for the Goobers. “Too many sweet things aren’t good for you.”
"Uh," Dean replies.
Cas rings up his order. Money’s exchanged. Then Cas smiles wide and says, “Enjoy your movie.”
Dean spends the entire movie trying to figure out if Cas just rejected him.
Cas, broom in hand, stands near the exit of the theater when Dean emerges. He smiles when he sees Dean and says, “How was the movie?”
"Uh, okay, I guess," Dean says. He can’t even really remember what he just saw.
Cas smiles. It’s bright and shy at once and Dean’s heart kicks into overdrive. “That’s what I thought, too,” Cas says and scoots past Dean into the theater.
Dean spends the rest of the night thinking about Cas’s smile.
He spends the rest of the week wondering when he can see it again.
On Friday, he sneaks away and goes to the movies. He buys a ticket for whatever is playing and heads to the snack counter.
Cas smiles when he sees Dean approach, and Dean can’t help but return it. He’s grinning wide by the time he reaches the counter.
"Popcorn and Goobers?" Cas asks.
"Just the popcorn today," Dean says.
"Extra butter?"
"Uh, no," Dean says. "Not this time. I, uh… I’m trying to cut back on the sweet things."
Cas nods, solemn. “A treat now and then is good for you, too, though,” he says and gets Dean’s popcorn.
Dean spends the entire movie trying to figure out what the hell Cas meant. And then still, for the rest of the week.
By Friday, he’s thought of every possible metaphor. None of them really make sense. So he buys a movie ticket and walks up to the snack counter, determined to ask Cas if he’s trying to let Dean down easy.
Cas is there, smiling when he approaches. Before Dean can even open his mouth, Cas admits, “I like sweet things, too.”
Everything Dean was going to say gets lost somewhere. “Y-you do?”
Cas nods. A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he gets Dean’s popcorn and rings it up. Dean’s about to leave, dumbfounded again, when Cas slides something across the counter. It’s a box of Goobers.
"Cas?"
The nickname makes Cas blush deeper. “A gift,” Cas explains. He shoves the box at Dean and then turns to busy himself with the soda fountain.
Dean holds the box of Goobers against his chest and the popcorn in the crook of his arm. He thinks of walking away, like he always does, to go to the movie and try to figure out what the hell this all means. But this time, it’s a little more obvious.
He takes a breath and hopes to whoever the hell listens to prayers that he’s not wrong about this. He likes this theater. He likes Cas.
"Do you always work Fridays?" Dean asks.
Cas jumps. He looks back at Dean with wide eyes. “Usually,” he says. “I mean… I try to.”
"You do?"
"Yes," Cas says. "Since -" He stops himself, and the blush returns, tenfold.
Dean takes a chance. “Since me?”
Cas bites his lip. He nods.
Dean wants to kiss him. He wants to hold his hand. He wants to sit in the back of the theater and share his popcorn. Maybe put his arm around the back of Cas’s seat. Maybe make fun of the movie and laugh. Or maybe make out a little. Hopefully both.
"Do you think you can take next week off?" Dean asks.
The color drains from Cas’s face. His eyes turn glossy and he glances down. “I understand,” he says, and - shit, that’s not what Dean meant at all!
Dean hates that this counter is between them. He hates that his hands are full.
"Next week I’d like to see the movie with you," Dean says. Cas looks up, surprised. "If that’s something you’d like, too."
The next week, they buy their tickets together. They sit in the back of the theater and giggle, hold hands, and kiss a little. They’d kiss more, but they can’t stop smiling.
"Careful, Cas," Dean whispers, a goofy grin on his face. Cas, face illuminated only by the colored light from the film stares at him, direly. He can’t hold the expression for long before a smile breaks out. His lips are kiss-swollen. His hair is even more wild than usual, thanks to Dean’s enthusiastic fingers. "Too many sweet things aren’t good for you."
"But I only want one sweet thing, Dean," Cas replies. He bites his lip. "I only want you."
Dean wants to kiss him again. He doesn’t want to ever stop kissing him. “Oh,” Dean says. He nods. “That’s okay, then.”
Cas laughs, and Dean pulls him closer.
Against Cas’s lips, Dean whispers, “I only want you, too.”
A few years later, they serve Goobers and popcorn at their wedding. Extra butter optional.

我来啦~其实是这样的》v《！我要到了我很喜欢的一位作者的授权！于是会一点点把以上这些文的原地址都找出来附在回复里面，并且最后整理完放在一起发在一个回复里面……然后关于那位作者的文之后打算再开一个贴专门翻她的文~不过这里也还会继续更……

tumblr，thekingslover，无授权。
地址如下：
http://destieldrabblesdaily.tumblr.com/post/93397221769/thekingslover-prompt-inspired-by-the-song
（设定：灵感来自Never Shout Never的歌《Happy》）
“我们早就该这么做了。”Dean懒洋洋地躺在沙滩椅上，脚趾埋在沙里。他的右手边有一冰柜的啤酒，手上还拿着一瓶刚打开的，阳光温暖地洒在他脸上，而他梦中的天使在他左手边。好吧，前天使。怎么说都行。他永远都会是Dean的天使，不论他有没有翅膀。
“这趟旅行真好。”Cas说着一边扬起一只手向在水里冲浪的Sam招招手。
Dean低头看了一眼啤酒，开始用手在标签边缘的地方抠抠抠，“我说的不是旅行。”
“你说的是性。”
Dean惊得跳起来，扔下手上的啤酒。在他抓住瓶子并抢救剩下的啤酒之前，啤酒洒了一些出来渗进沙子里。他的脸一定红得发亮因为他能感觉到它快热得烧起来了；虽然他并不认为是阳光晒得他这么热。
“好吧--呃，是的。但我的意思是…你知道的。这整个…虽然并不只是那个但…所有这一切。”
Dean如释重负地吐出一口气抬起眼来看向Cas，发现他也在看着他，有点不怀好意地笑着。他是故意这么说的。Dean皱皱眉，Cas收敛了一点笑容，直到他看上去不再那么淘气，而只是单纯地快乐。
“你是指我们。”
“当然。”Dean说着，喝完手中剩下的啤酒。他把空瓶子放回冰柜却没有再拿一瓶。相反，他伸出胳膊，手肘耷拉在扶手上，后仰着脑袋靠在椅子上。
他闭上眼，感觉到有一只手滑上他的手背。Cas将他们的手交握着十指相扣，轻轻捏了一下Dean的手心。
Dean忍不住微笑着，听着Cas说，“与子携手，与子偕老。”

嗯。。。这里发一个小公告，不知道大家能不能看到。
前阵子发生了一些事，我自己感触很深，也反思了很多。
我之前打算要翻《Twist and Shout》，想的是先翻到2W词左右再去要授权；结果在我和另一个姑娘合作一起翻了两周（1W词，1/10）之后，昨天（还是前天？我不大记得了）我才看到作者在8.1发的公告说“拒绝任何形式的转载和翻译”。
当时我有点懵，脑子也因为刷了一早的票结果却并没有赢而有点混乱，于是情急之下我在不是非常了解情况的情况下在作者的AO3页面下面留了一封信，希望作者再考虑一下，或者希望知道原因。
之后我在tumblr上看到了事件的经过。大致概括是这样：作者本来是印了几本作为义卖/慈善/捐赠这类用途，上面还有Misha的签名这样；但是后来有人出于个人利益，把这个故事印刷出来，放在lulu网上贩卖，标价49.96美元。作者非常生气，很多人也为此忿忿不平，但是的确有人去买。于是8.1作者关于各方面读者的提问进行了一个Q&A汇总，其中包括我上面说的那条。得知经过之后我想我已经知道了理由，也没有必要再请求授权，因此回想起来觉得那封信写得又粗鲁又无礼，情急之下还有不少语法和拼写错误。
后来我想，可能无授权翻译这事本身就挺失礼的，而且上面很多文的原文地址，我真的找不到了，贴不上来。
所以，我不打算再进行无授权翻译，也不会再更新这个帖子；以后只翻noanglesinthegarrison的文，因为我之前有向她要到授权。
很抱歉给大家带来了困扰，也对之前那些我没有去要授权就擅自翻译并转载的原文作者感到内疚。。。但是我不想再多事了，以后时间也会比较紧，因此暂时没有打算去向每个作者道歉并且重新要授权的想法。
本来这个帖删了会比较好，但是毕竟真的我也在这里付出了很多心血，出于私心我没有把它删掉。
话说得比较乱，希望大家能看明白。
最后谢谢各位的支持和鼓励，授权翻译的那个小甜文合集帖会不时更新，这里不再更新，请见谅。