because you ca

“He was lost, Cas. Our last hunt, he almost didn’t make it back and said he saw Billie.”

“He saw Billie?” Castiel parroted. They were both still in the war room in the bunker, the aftermath of recent events still fresh and new in their minds as Sam recounted what happened while Castiel had been “away.” 

“Yeah, and it wasn’t great.” Sam bit his lip. “Cas, When Mom disappeared…when you died. I think it broke him to a point where he couldn’t come back from it and deal with his grief. More than one night he’s had nightmares where I’d have to get him out and it’s always your name that’d he’d scream.”

“Grief is a complex emotion that is difficult to understand. The both of you have suffered with it greatly, but I have passed before.” Castiel paused, cognizant the statement should make no sense to anyone else except for the three of them. “He had been in grief then but had managed to find a way out. What made this time different?”

“I saw your wings, Cas.” A voice interrupted them from the threshold of the war room.

It clicked in Castiel’s head then. Understandable. "Dean.”

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Dean: You know, the invention of the shovel was ground-breaking.

Dean: Ground-breaking.

Dean: [laughing at his own joke]

Mary: [face palming]

Dean: … But it was the broom’s creation that really swept the nation.

Sam: [rolling his eyes]

Dean: Of course, some say it’s the wheel that really got things rolling. C’mon guys give me something here.

Castiel: [squinting]

Castiel: I should’ve left you in hell

10

Jon Snow and Sansa Stark + parallels (requested by bericdondarrion)

Mafioso Cas, again.

12.14 coda

Dean may have missed out on the fight, but he still feels like drinking when he finally gets back home. Ketch’s expensive bottle of bribery is still sitting on the war room table and his glass is still in his favorite spot, right where he left it.

“Oh, hello, sweetness. Daddy’s here,” Dean coos at it. He hums as he picks up the bottle - still heavy even after a couple of drinks. “Shhh. It’s just you and me now.”

Sam scoffs. “Really, Dean? You’re that easy?”

Dean rolls his eyes over his shoulder. “So?”

Sam doesn’t really want to start anything, he’s feeling too good. He lets Dean smuggle his booze away to his room like always and revels in the still-fresh feeling of adrenaline-fueled ass-kicking. Changing the world. Power in the palms of his hands. He’ll try not to let it go to his head, but he deserves to celebrate the win at least.

Dean, meanwhile, falls like a heavy weight against the back of his bedroom door. 

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Looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you:
Nathaniel

Looks like could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll:
Kentin

Looks like a cinnamon roll and actually is a cinnamon roll:
Lysander

Looks like could kill you and could actually kill you:
Castiel

Sinnamon roll:
Armin

I want an AU where Dean is a popular YouTuber who is married to Cas, but no one knows it. Cas is a high school teacher who is kind of awkward, but every once in a while he’ll mention a meme and all of his students are confused wonder how he knows that.

Then one day when he’s teaching he hears a group of girls giggling in the back of the class, so he walks back there and sees them watching one of Dean’s videos. It’s his “never have I ever” video, and right he’s talking about getting a speeding ticket. Right before the girls see Cas he hears one of them say “I wonder what kind of car he drives” so Cas responds, “Do not ever get Dean Winchester started on his car. He will never shut up.” as he takes the phone and walks away, leaving the girls dumbfounded.

~ SPN 12x15 coda ~

This is my voicemail. Make your voice…a mail.

Dean pursed his lips and pulled his phone away from his ear. Three missed calls…where was Cas? 

Usually, if he was not back home by this time – Dean tapped his screen. 10:47 pm – then he was at a hotel for the night. By now, Cas would have texted Dean to check in. To let him know that everything was all right. Maybe he was too tired to carry on an actual conversation. Maybe that’s why he sounded off on the phone earlier,

After a moment of staring at his phone, Dean opened it up and found the messages between himself and Cas. No reason he couldn’t text Cas first, right?

10:48 pm // Any more news about Dagon?

He stared at his screen until it went black. Sighing, Dean set his cell down on his nightstand and pulled off his flannel shirt, tossing it on the foot of his bed. He toed off his heavy boots and kicked them away before he tugged off his jeans. As he sat down, he glanced over at his phone.

Still no notification. Maybe Cas’ phone was dead?

Dean slipped under the covers and sat still for a second before reaching under and yanking off his socks. He threw them across the room and rested his arm behind his head. He stared at the ceiling for a long while, watching the shadows from the lamp creep over the popcorn ceiling.

His phone buzzed. Twice. 

Dean jolted up and rubbed his eyes with one hand and grabbed his cell with the other. His shoulders sagged as he rested his phone on his knee. It was only Crowley. If he actually wanted to talk to Dean, he would call him – several times in succession until Dean picked up, judging by past experiences. 

Dean unlocked his phone with a swipe of his thumb and his eyes fell to Cas’ contact picture. It was one that Dean took who know how many moths ago during a lull in a research session. In the picture, Cas was glaring over the top of Sam’s computer at Dean in response to his endless attempts to get his attention. 

“Hey, Cas,” he said, clearing his throat. He glanced up at his closed bedroom door before continuing. “I…I know it’s been a while since I’ve prayed. But that’s because you’ve been here. And, well…you’re gone now.”

He frowned, tapping his phone on his knee. Yes, Dean talked to him today – just hours ago, even – but something was wrong. Sam did not seem to notice, but Dean did. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, though not necessarily to Cas. 

“I need you here, man. You help me, you know? More than I’ll ever be able to say.” His eyes darted up to the ceiling and back down to the phone. “I’m over-reacting, huh?…You’re probably just tired.” Dean gave his phone a half-hearted smile, his eyes drooping in exhaustion. He really should try to sleep soon.

12:12 am, his phone read when he tapped the screen. He hesitated for only a second after unlocking it before he decided to call Cas again. Dean’s fingers tightened around his phone as he raised it to his ear. “Come on, buddy. Pick up.” 

His plea was answered by the trilly dial-tone, which rang three times before there was a soft click on the other end. Dean’s breath hitched in anticipation as Cas said, This is my voicemail. Make you – 

He hung up the phone and tossed it away. It bounced off the pillow next to him and onto the bed. Dean rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. “Where are you, Cas?”

Castiel had always known how he felt about Dean. Somehow he’d always been able to conceal it.

Not anymore. Castiel feels like he’ll burst if he doesn’t just say it. He’s only human now, after all.

He does say it, eventually. He makes use of all the knowledge he’s acquired and tells Dean how he feels over and over again.

It’s in Danish the first time. “jeg elsker dig” he murmurs as he accepts his mug of coffee.

The second time is a few days later when they’re on a case related to an Arab painter. “أحبك,” Castiel says, not looking up from the book he’s poring over.

He ends up saying the phrase more times than he can count.

“Ez hej te dikim”

It is not always “three simple words”.

“मैं तुमसे प्यार करता हूँ”

And he never says it in the one language that matters, the one language that Dean would understand.

“دوستت دارم”

Castiel will only learn later that he has severely underestimated Dean. He will only learn later when, one day, Dean turns to him and says, “You know I love you too, right?”

Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets/The Most Sacred Oath

I’m guessing you can’t hear me squeal over your own squeals, but I’ll just keep at it a little longer, okay? Okay. 

Man, this episode read like very good fanfiction, and while I’m disappointed Dean never found out Cas used to be a woman (although, they did have a conversation about that, so Steve gets points anyway), everything else was plain amazing. I’m actually tempted to do a recap that’s just shouting words into the void, because, seriously, that would be enough, but - okay, let me watch that thing again and then I’ll write a proper meta.


Okay.

(Deep breath.)

So, let’s get one thing out of the way: we already know why this story works so damn well, but it’s worth saying it one more time, because this is what the whole episode was about.

A human and an angel: not meant to be.

Ishim said humans are dangerous to angels, and I agree with him: if angels want to understand humans, to truly become friends with them, to live among them - well - look at what’s that done to Cas. Caring about humans is, apparently, different than caring about another angel; it forces you to give up something deep inside yourself. You become - weaker, unhappy. Doubt-ridden. Trapped between two worlds, and fit for neither. And as for humans - if they truly wish to get closer to angels - to speak their language, to know enough about their magic and weapons to be able help them when they’re in trouble or hurt - that literally costs them their souls.

It’s a tragedy. It’s doomed.

But, of course, it’s not completely hopeless. What would be the point of writing a love story if you know from the start nothing can never happen at all? No - love can conquer all, and this episode dangled it in front of us - the angel who chose humanity, who tried to defend the person he loved from his own brothers, and the human who was fascinated with angels and knew enough about them to make it work.

(They had a daughter, sort of, and let’s cry about that for the rest of eternity, because can you see it? Dean loves kids, and -)

Anyway. We’ve known for a while that angels - I mean, the price Cas paid for his loyalty to the Winchesters (his love for Dean) - that’s harrowing. But this idea that humans need to sacrifice their soul to become closer to angels - thanks for that, Steve. I’m fine.

And surely, at this point, there is no other way this could end? Because what Sam and Cas share - yeah, that’s what friendship looks like, but Dean and Cas - right. And so Cas went and said it (“You mean too much to me.”) and Dean just holed up in his room for the rest of the week? He never said a word to Cas? And, Jesus, Cas thinks Dean’s angry? At him? I’m glad this, at least, was spelled out clearly, because apparently some people still don’t get it and read Dean’s emotions at face value and no, Dean was not angry - he was worried out of his damn mind, and he’s got reason to be, because Cas still doesn’t fucking get it: “I don’t regret what I did, even if it costs me my life”.

The idiot - the useless, fucking idiot.

(“Smelly. Dirty. Twice the worry about getting ganked.”)

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10

top 25 supernatural dynamics (as voted by my followers)
#19. sam, dean and kevin 
and we need you, man. // because i’m useful // because you’re family. after all the crap we’ve been through, after all the good that you’ve done… man, if you don’t think that we would die for you… i don’t know what to tell you. because you, me, sam and cas, we are all we’ve got.

Downstream - ~1k, post 12.23 / pre s13, angst

The ocean is a flat plane of glass, and the boat doesn’t cause a single ripple as it glides along the surface. Dean has no idea how they managed to drift out so far, but somehow they’ve completely lost sight of the shoreline. The only indication of the horizon is the thinnest, faintest line; a stray hair caught in a watercolour canvas.

It’s light out, the air around him a diffusion of pink and gold and reflected back in the water’s mirror surface, but he can’t find the sun. Perhaps it’s nearing dawn.

Dean’s leaning back against the bow, hands behind his head. The gunwales are kind of digging into his shoulders, but he’s smiling.

His companion is silent and placid where he sits near the stern. The light is catching the tips of his hair, setting off the dark with glints of gold. Clasped hands hang between splayed knees.

Dean inhales thick, salt air and lets his eyes drift closed. “This was a good idea. We needed a vacation.”

“You deserve it.”

Dean hums, contented. “You too. Hell, we’ve all been through the ringer lately.”

Cas nods. “I suppose we have.”

Their voices float easily through the air, but in the space all around them it’s perfectly quiet, save the occasional soft, gentle slap of water against the boat.

“Seriously, we shoulda done this years ago.”

“When?” Cas asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “After the apocalypse, but before the leviathan? Maybe between the Mark of Cain and Amara?”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re kind of a downer, Cas?” Dean replies peaceably.

“Once or twice.”

Another long and companionable silence stretches out between them. They’ve been out here a while now and the sun probably should’ve risen, but it’s hardly a concern: the glow of light around them is warm enough. In fact, Dean could probably afford to take off his jacket, were he not far too comfortable to move.

“Dean. How long do you plan to stay out here?”

Dean cracks one eye. “What, you got somewhere to be?”

Cas’ answering smile is fond, and only slightly tinged with sadness. “No.”

“That’s what I thought.” Dean drops his eyelid.

“It’s just, there are things you need to do.”

Both Dean’s eyes open now, and he leans all the way up to sit on the hard, wooden seat. The boat rocks and sways. “Yeah, Cas, there’s always something. But you are cutting into our hard-earned relaxation time, man. You keep this up, you can kiss that second date goodbye.”

“This is a date?”

Dean gives him a look. “You take a lot of platonic pre-dawn rowboat rides?”

“I suppose not,” Cas says, and he casts his eyes out to the water. “I’m just a little surprised.”

“But not disappointed.”

There’s a faint blush dusting Cas’ cheeks. Maybe it’s just the light. “No.”

“Because you love me.” Cas’ eyebrows rocket up to his hairline, and Dean shrugs defensively. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

“Well, that’s certainly true.”

Dean’s gotta give him that one. “Touché.”

Cas is looking at him patiently, waiting.

Feeling rather like a third-grader forced to answer a question he wasn’t listening to in the first place, Dean casts his eyes down, suddenly intensely interested in the rough woodgrain below his feet. The fact that the boat has no oars is a mild curiosity.

“I dunno,” Dean shrugs. “Probably shoulda said it then. Guess I just figured you knew.”

“Because you’re always so open and honest with your feelings.”

That’s two points to Cas.

Dean plays for time a while longer, scraping his boots through the coarse, black sand he tracked in from the beach. “Alright, well, there it is. Better late than never, right?”

This time Cas doesn’t bother trying to hide the heartache in his smile.

They sit in silence again, for minutes or maybe hours. Eventually Cas looks left to the non-existent sun. “It’s probably time to go back,” he says quietly.

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. Little longer.”

“You have responsibilities, Dean.”

Dean scoffs. “What, you mean Rosemary’s baby?”

“He didn’t ask to be what he is.”

“He’s the literal antichrist, Cas.”

Whatever he is,” Cas says firmly, “good or evil, he needs someone. He needs guidance.”

“He needs a bullet in the neck.”

Cas shakes his head. “You don’t mean that. He’s an innocent, Dean. And he needs you and Sam, now that I can’t be there for him anymore.”

Something flickers in Dean’s chest, like a moth beating against his heart. He frowns, confused, and finds Cas’ eyes.

The intent expression on Cas’ face gradually shifts to one of resignation. He sighs softly. “You forgot again, didn’t you?”

Dean jolts awake to a blaring car horn.

Sam is driving, the hideous sodium streetlights casting harsh lines of shadow across his face when he turns to the passenger seat. “You were talking again.”

Dean doesn’t answer as he reacquaints himself with the deep, aching chasm in his chest.

Sam swallows visibly, shadows of raindrops on the windshield like pockmarks on his skin. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Dean grits his teeth. “Yeah, Sam. There were these clowns. Like thirty of ‘em, and they all kept piling out of this Volkswagon.” The lie slides easy off his tongue.

Sam throws up a hand in surrender. “Okay.”

Anger is easier. Anger is always easier.

Dean closes his eyes tight and tries to chase the soft, pink-gold light of the ocean. He inhales Baby’s familiar leather scent, desperate for a whiff of salt air.

He tries to forget.


(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

OKAY so I was at the library yesterday, and I saw this book of 2015 baby names, and in it I found a list of ‘unusual baby names that have gained the most popularity over the past year,’ and…

UNDER THE BOYS’ NAMES…

Castiel what are you doing there?

Literally though I love this because it’s purely because of the show

I may or may not have freaked out in the middle of the library

~

don’t sleep shouto