i like how meg has a lot of pride but at the same time

ikke snakk til meg
  • we open with sana reciting this surah, which i see as an effort from sana to try and regain focus on her faith (but you should ask the muslims in the fandom <3)
  • very violent online abuse flashes before her eyes, apparently from when she was in middle school (here’s a detailing of the abuse)
  • once again, sana’s prayer is interrupted (it’s always interrupted either by an external character, or by her own thoughts…at the end of the series we’ll see her pray uninterrupted and it will be gorgeous)
  • we get this beautiful shot of literal and metaphorical self reflection. sana is broken after the latest events and she is now trying to pick herself back up (so, of course, she tries to go back to the beginning: the sana we first saw on the show, before it all started)
  • adding the above piece of art for reasons (like to charge/reblog to cast)
  • we’ve seen sana wear very loose hijabs this season, i remember people commenting on it. here, she tightens the fabric around her neck. i see it as her trying to protect herself. she needs all the extra strength she can get. all the extra fabric between her and the world.
  • she tries to reach out for the only friend (we know of) she could have left: jamilla. but we see they never got closure on the “sharmutta incident” and, when sana scrolls up, she is reminded of how much her and jamilla differ from one another. and she gives up.
  • quick note: i am not too happy too see jamilla painted as this hating muslimah but i’ll wait until the end of the series. her comment “i was just trying to protect you” reminds me a lot of sonja, who i hated really badly when she confronted isak during the hotel scene. but who redeemed herself and explained her behaviour in the end.
  • we see their last messages are from january 2016, so just after season 1 if i’m not mistaken? the tension started then and that’s probably why sana and her were already at war during season 2.
  • anyone knows what game the norwegians are playing at the school? it looks like a dance of some sorts: the way they’re placed and the couple is running in between the two groups…
  • isak is wearing a dandelion. from twitter: løvetannbarn (dandelion child) means person that has survived almost impossible upbringing.
  • this time, the lyrics are so on the nose even the beautiful subbers decided to translate some of them: an even song. to me, reminiscent of all the rumours spread about him paralleling the rumours spread about sana right now.
  • we see the pictures from the teaser: isak’s eye, sara (same jacket), noora…
    we’re missing the brown hair with a hand ruffling them and the carrot munching (but i feel like the carrot bit was more symbolic than anything)
  • sana is back to the beginning (see above) except, this time, it’s reversed: she’s not joining the girl squad and the russbuss. she’s leaving both.
  • liar liar pants on fire
  • and she’s not trying to show, like in her first clip where she sassed vilde and told her being a russ was punished by stoning, that she can and will become a russ. she’s instead using her faith as a reason for why she doesn’t want to be a russ. very flippening, much reversal.
  • sana goes to class and…
  • the book is open on a page about dandelions.
  • which brings me to the symbolism of the dandelion. according to google, dandelion translates to “dent de lion” in french which means “lion’s tooth” (i can vouch for that), summoning the symbolic meaning of lions: courage, pride, family (connection/communication). the dandelion is also a sun symbol (#sanasol).
  • we get this exchange that i LOVE but that, unfortunately, is getting misunderstood: sana and isak are awkward around each other but both really want to talk to each other. sana, after looking at isak’s very obvious blackeye, glances at the dandelion in his hair. isak scoffs and takes it off.
    you can’t take a black eye off. you can’t get rid of that barrier between two people. but you can take a flower off. i feel like the flower, here, is a perfect way for them to (in the sweetest way) break the ice. our attention is briefly redirected from the (devastating) black eye to the (hopeful) flower and, for a moment, everything is OK.

[cont. after the “read more”]

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Not What He Expected-Part 4

This is an A/B/O AU

So here it is, my FIRST A/B/O series featuring Alpha! Dean/ Omega! Reader (not Destiel). I am still a Samgirl to the very core of my being, but I thought it would be fun to try something different for a change.

You meet Dean Winchester in a bar when he attempts to come to your rescue after a drunk Alpha tries to take advantage of you.  He quickly realizes you’re not what he expected.  You’re a very independent Omega who is used to speaking her mind.  He’s all Alpha, but there is just something about you, an attraction that makes him want to know more…….

Part 1 (All parts are linked)

Master List

Text messages are in bold

I walked out to the hostess station, where Meg was chatting up Dean.  He must have come from work because he was dressed in a mechanic’s uniform, and the sight of him made my mouth water.  As I got closer, his intoxicating scent hit me, and heat pooled in my belly.

Dean’s face lit up when he saw me. “Hey, got some time?” he asked.

“Sure.  You hungry?” 

He grinned.  “For your cooking? Always.”

Meg looked between the two of us, a knowing smile on her face.  “You want a table, Y/N? Somewhere private, maybe?” 

“That would be great, Meg, thanks,” I replied distractedly, still focused on Dean.

Meg led us into a secluded alcove away from the other diners.  She winked at Dean and handed him a menu.  Before she walked away she leaned in and whispered in my ear.  “Wow.  You better grab him quickly before someone else does, Y/N.”

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Disney Should Make Another Native American Movie

**Tl;dr at the end**

With all the shit happening with Natives right now and the upcoming Moana, I feel the next Disney movie they work on should be about Native Americans

I know there’s already three: Pocahontas, Brother Bear, and The Emperor’s New Groove (yes, Kuzco counts). But none of them are really about Native culture. Brother Bear’s the closest, but they’re Inuits, which has a different culture than mainland U.S.A. natives, which is what I’m talking about specifically.

Now, as native(Apache), I wouldn’t really be offended if it was a Native “princess”, it could be the same as Mulan where she’s part of the lineup but not an actual princess, or how some people consider Meg as part of the lineup even though she’s not. I don’t know about other natives, but that doesn’t really offend me.

Since Brother Bear isn’t very popular, and not many people know The Emperor’s New Groove is also a Native American movie and it not being as popular now, Pocahontas is the only Native American movie the vast majority know about. That’s not good tbh.

I didn’t grow up with Pocahontas and the first time I saw it was like a year or two ago (I grew up w/ Kenai & Kuzco) and MANY people call it out for being historically inaccurate. For me personally, historically inaccurate movie don’t bother me. If I know it’s incorrect & I enjoy it, I’m fine. But since learning more about my culture in the past half year probably, I realize the impact Pocahontas has on the Native community. People think that that’s how all Natives act, how all tribes are, how all tribes look, which is like 100% false. Each tribe is almost the same way countries are; there may be similarities, but it’s not the same in every tribe.

This thought actually popped up in my head when I went to Disneyland & California Adventure last weekend and saw the full trailer for Moana. I’ve been super excited for Moana for a while now, I think since I found out it was being released this year, not next year. I’ve been watching interviews, the trailers & teasers, everything. My favorite thing is that the team studied Polynesian culture for 5 years to show the culture as best as they could. That really stuck with me & made me think a lot. My gramma is Apache & I was at her house when I went to Disneyland, and with that and the fact I have a research paper for school about Native Americans, I thought, “Why not another Native movie?”

I already have a concept in mind for a movie, but it’s very incomplete so I won’t share it right now. But if they did make another Native movie, I think they should make it about only the tribes, no settlers. They already did that, so I don’t think it would be as impactful if they did that again. It would just be like a 2nd Pocahontas. Pre-Colombus, there was so much that happened within tribes and with other tribes that there is MORE than enough to make a movie for it.

This was something I was probably never going to share, but I has so much pride in my ethnicity, I want this to be heard. I feel like another movie, especially now, would help give us Natives more recognition, make people realize we’re not extinct, and maybe open people’s minds to the fact that we deserve the same rights as everyone else.

Again, just a suggestion, as a Native girl who wants some native representation with the most influential business I can think of.

Tl;dr: Disney should make another Native American movie about the tribes, not settlers


Sooooooo…@castihalo all your fall themed Destiel gotten me inspired. So this is for you, as it is clearly inadvertently your doing.

It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Alright, yeah, Dean and Cas had won the couple’s costume contest for three years running. (Freshman year: “Peanut Butter and Honey”, Sophomore year: “Night and Day”, Junior Year: “The Birds and the Bees”. All Cas’ ideas.) And yeah, maybe he had waited until the last minute to tell Cas he was going to do the contest this year with his actual, bona fide girlfriend Lisa Braedan. But c'mon! He and Cas had just done the contest as friends, this was a real chance to do it as a real couple. Cas should be happy for him.

Not be going off and making a couple’s costume with Meg Masters

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Of Flowers and Flours

A/N: For thekingslover because we missed you so much! Also for dreamedofwings because of poopey bad days. – Florist!Cas/Baker!Dean. 4k~. PG-13 cause of swears.

When Dean first steps into the flower shop, he’s hit with the fresh, crisp smell of nature. The shop is quaint, lined with an array of flower arrangements, and potted plants, and dripping with color.

It’s a little overwhelming at first glance.

Rather than try to find something himself, Dean approaches the counter where an attractive brunette woman is clicking a mouse, and staring intently at her computer screen.

She holds her finger up at him when he clears his throat, and after a few moments she smiles at the screen.

“Spider solitaire,” she tells Dean, her brown eyes flicking in his direction, “I won.”


The woman nods. “So what can I do you for, Handsome?”

“I need some flowers for my mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

“Awww, how sweet,” the woman’s voice is thick with sarcasm, and Dean scowls at her. “Do you know what arrangement you want?”

“No.” Dean admits.

“Well how ‘bout this, Cowboy. Why don’t you look around, find something you like, and then come talk to me when you’ve done that, mkay?”

Dean stares at the brunette, irritation bubbling beneath his skin. For such a cherry shop, this employee - Meg, her name tag states - is anything but.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks for your help, Meg,” Dean grates.

Meg’s already turned her attention back towards the computer screen, but he knows she heard him when she responds with a monotone, “Anytime, Baby Face.”

Dean shakes his head and turns from the counter, making his way deeper into the shop. As he goes, Meg’s smirking brown eyes simmer in his brain.

After what feels like forever Dean finally plucks a bouquet of roses out of a can of water and examines them. Roses are definitely cliché, and Dean doesn’t want to seem like he didn’t put thought into his mother’s gift, but all the flowers are beginning to look the same, and Dean finds himself at a loss.

With the flowers clutched in his hand Dean continues to walk throughout the shop, stopping here and there to examine other possibilities.

He’s stopped in front of a display of daffodils, considering them when a gentle, “What’s she like?” sounds from off to Dean’s side.

Dean raises his head. Just to the left of the daffodils is a man. He’s attractive (actually, no, attractive is an understatement for what this man is) with dark hair, and striking blue eyes that stand out against the cobalt blue of the vest he wears, and his stare bores into Dean calculating, curious.

“What?” Dean asks.

“Your mother; what’s she like?”

“Oh, she uh-” Dean stops and thinks about his mom for a moment, reflecting on all she’s done for him over the years, the constant rock she’s been in his life. “She’s amazing.” He finally settles on, a small smile growing on his face.

“I can tell she means a lot to you,” the man offers.

Dean nods, “She’s the most important woman in my life,” he admits. He isn’t sure why he’s suddenly gone all sentimental-feelings-crap on this complete stranger, but the man’s presence makes Dean feel comfortable. Like Dean could share all of his secrets and the man wouldn’t even bat an eye at them.

The man eyes the bouquet of roses in Dean’s hand and shakes his head. “Then you can’t give her roses,” he states.

Dean looks down at the roses too. “So what do you suggest-” Dean’s eyes flick to the man’s nametag, “Castiel?”

Castiel floats him a gentle smile. “Come with me,” he says. And yeah, maybe the guy seems a bit strange, but he’s offering help where Meg didn’t, and so Dean follows him to a corner of the store that holds potted flowers.

“These are orchids,” Castiel states, bending to pick up one of the pots, “they symbolize delicate beauty.”

“I don’t really think of my mom as delicate,” Dean points out, eyeing the flowers. They already look better than the roses Dean still has clutched in his hand, but when Dean hears delicate, he thinks weak.

Castiel quirks a smile, “The delicacy is more indicative of a softness; a quiet grace. Strong, but delicately so. Does that sound more like your mother?”

“Yeah,” Dean admits, “it sounds just like her.” He looks at the roses once more before deciding this Castiel guy sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.

“Alright, I’ll take the white ones.”

“Cymbidium,” Castiel states as he bends to pick up one of the pots holding the white orchids.

“What now?” Dean asks.

“Cymbidium. It’s the type of orchid you’ve chosen.”

“Sure,” Dean says, still in the dark.

Castiel begins walking towards the register, and Dean follows. “Do you own a car?” Castiel asks.

“Sure do. 1967 Chevy Impala.” Dean doesn’t even attempt to keep the swell of pride out of his voice.

“Much like cars, flowers have both a make, and a model. You drive a Chevy, this is an orchid. Your Chevy is an Impala, this is a cymbidium.”

In just a few minutes Dean’s learning more about flowers than he ever wanted to know, but the way Castiel talks about them, like they’re just as interesting as a human being, has Dean listening intently.

He follows Castiel to the counter, trading out the bouquet of roses he’d originally picked out for the orchids Castiel suggested.

Meg has disappeared somewhere so Castiel rings Dean up, offering him a new customer discount, and even going as far as tying a complementary bow around the pot.

“Hey, thanks for your help, Castiel,” Dean offers, pulling the plant off the countertop. All the irritation he felt towards Meg has long since ebbed and he’s almost grateful she didn’t offer him the help Castiel did.

“It was my pleasure…” his voice goes up at the end, a question, and Dean realizes he never introduced himself.


Castiel smiles. “Dean.”

When Dean walks out of the flower shop it’s with a renewed surety in his step, and bright blue eyes, the color of one of the orchids Dean saw earlier, prominent in his mind.

A week later finds Dean at the flower shop again, this time for an employee who’s retiring. When a few of Dean’s other employees had suggested flowers for Missouri, Dean had eagerly offered to be the one to pick them out.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Castiel - Cas as he’d started calling him in his head - since their initial meeting at the flower shop.

“Did your mother like the orchids?” Castiel asks in greeting, intercepting Dean before he even reaches the counter.

Castiel is sans vest today, instead he’s clad in a deep green apron, the flower shop’s logo emblazoned on the front.

“Hey,” Dean says, “just the guy I wanted to see. Yeah, she loved them. Her face got all glowy and shit. I think she loves that plant more than she loves me.”

Castiel huffs a soft laugh and shakes his head, “I doubt that.”

A silence settles around them for a beat, Dean getting lost in Castiel’s face, his bright eyes, his perfectly angled nose, the pink of his lips. Both times Dean’s seen him, the florist’s hair has been tousled, like he couldn’t be bothered to style it after a shower, or as if he’d been running his hands through it all day. It’s a good look on him.

When Castiel’s tongue darts out and runs over his lips, Dean blinks and realizes he’s been staring.

“Sorry,” he says, running a hand over his mouth, “spaced out there for a second.”

Castiel frowns. “I hadn’t noticed,” he comments.

Dean doesn’t allow himself to think maybe Castiel didn’t notice because he was too busy staring back. Instead he says, “So I need some flowers for one of my employees. She’s retiring tomorrow and I’m told I absolutely have to get her flowers or else I’m the worst boss ever.” As he says it, Jo and Charlie’s voices echo through his head. They had sat him down a few days prior and told him those very words.

“You own a business?” Castiel’s voice is laced with curiosity, his eyes sparking with interest.

Dean shrugs, “Just a little bakery down town.”

Castiel’s eyes glitter. “You bake?”

“Yeah. Pies and stuff. Nothing too exciting.”

“Quite the contrary, Dean. Pastries are very exciting.”

Dean’s heart does a happy little pitter patter. “You like dessert?”

“I love dessert.”

If there ever was an opportunity to see Castiel again, this was it. Dean may not need flowers all that often, but inviting Castiel to the bakery was definitely a viable excuse to see the florist again. “You should come in sometime. I’ll give you some free samples.”

Castiel’s smile is warm. “I’d like that, Dean.”

Dean leaves the flower shop that day with a bouquet of pink roses, “For appreciation,” Castiel tells him, and a hopeful bounce in his step.

Castiel visits Dean’s bakery less than a week later. It’s been a slow afternoon, and when the bell above the door chimes, Jo and Charlie both leap to their feet and race to the counter, vying for the opportunity for something to do.

Dean ignores their scuffle and continues reading Sam’s latest e-mail on how he’s doing at Stanford, but when he hears the familiar gravel of a one blue eyed florist’s voice, he whips his head towards the sound.

“Is Dean in?” he hears Castiel ask, and then he’s standing bolt upright from his chair, nearly knocking it to the ground, and rushing up to the counter. There is no way in hell he’s trusting Jo and Charlie alone with Castiel.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean practically shouts, all out of breath, and cursing the blush he knows is coloring his cheeks.

Jo and Charlie’s gazes flit back and forth between Dean, and Castiel, but just as Jo opens her mouth to speak, Dean orders them to the back to sort through old recipes.

Jo sticks her tongue out at Dean, and then she and Charlie are shuffling to the kitchen with their arms linked and their heads pressed close. “He’s dreamy,” he hears Charlie mutter.

“Sorry about them,” Dean offers.

“No need to apologize, Dean. I understand the trifles of working with nosey employees. I’ve got a few myself.”

Dean nods and then stops, “Wait, you have a few- Cas do you own that flower shop?”

“Before you get too impressed, it was my sister’s. When she passed, she willed it to me. I’m sure I haven’t put in half the work you have in owning a business, but I do try.”

Several different emotions circulate through Dean. Despite Castiel’s request for him not to be, Dean is impressed. Whether Castiel started the shop he’s running now or not, owning a business is hard work, Dean would know. He also feels sympathy for Castiel. He knows all too well what it’s like to lose someone, his dad having passed several years ago.

“So you’re carrying on her legacy, huh?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods. “I’m trying to.”

“Well I think you’re doing a great job,” Dean offers sincerely.

“Thank you, Dean.”

There’s a beat of silence between them before Dean remembers, Castiel came for dessert. “You want something to eat? We’ve got lime cheesecake or cherry pie today. Unless you want cookies. We’ve got a ton of cookies.”

“What’s your favorite?” Castiel wonders, eyeing the desserts on display.

Dean studies him for a moment before asking, “How much time do you have?”

“I have all afternoon,” Castiel replies, his eyes sparkling.

Dean’s smile is wide and resounding. “Great.” He moves for the small door that will allow Castiel behind the counter and swings it open. “C'mon back, Cas. We’re gonna make the Winchester special, Cinnamon Pecan Pie.”

Over the course of the next few weeks, Dean and Castiel begin seeing quite a bit of one another. Dean starts having flower arrangements, all handpicked by Castiel himself, sent to his shop to add bright, cherry decor, and Castiel stops in at the bakery at least once a week for a slice of whatever Dean’s got behind the counter. He usually has a new pot of flowers in his hands, and an explanation for why he chose them; things like, “Azaleas for abundance,” and “Irises for inspiration.”

As they get to know one another Dean becomes happy, giddy almost every time he sees that dark crop of hair, or one of Castiel’s little smiles that light up his face.

Jo and Charlie tell him he’s in love, Dean tells them to organize the bakery’s sugars.

It isn’t until Castiel shows up at the bakery one day with a box in his arms that Dean is forced to confront the fact that Charlie and Jo might be right.

He hurries through a sale with a staunchly customer, an elderly woman who’s been ordering cakes from Dean since he first opened, and as she walks out the door with a Lemon Blueberry Cake in her hands, Dean turns his attention to Castiel.

“Hey, Cas. Whatcha got there?” Dean asks, eyes flitting to the box.

“I brought you flours,” Castiel states. He settles the box on the counter and looks at Dean with a happy shine in his eyes, like a proud child that’s found the perfect dandelion for their mother.

Dean looks around his shop, now bursting with color, thanks to Cas, and back at Castiel. “Well, thanks, but I think we’ve got more flowers than you do at this point.”

Castiel smiles and shakes his head and then opens the box. “Not my kind of flowers, Dean, your kind of flours.”

Dean looks inside the box, understanding washing over him as he takes in the several rows of small bags of baking flours. A knot forms in his throat. They’re just a bunch of dumb baking products, but for some reason they douse Dean’s heart in gratitude and have him wanting to pull Castiel into a big, very long hug.

“Thanks, Cas.” He mutters. “That’s really cool of you.”

Castiel is practically glowing as Dean accepts the box.

“You wanna come back? We’re making cherry pie. I need someone to taste test for me.”

Castiel nods and Dean permits him behind the counter.

When Castiel leaves that day Jo and Charlie corner Dean in his office.

“Dean, it’s time to get over yourself,” Charlie states as Jo spins Dean around in his chair until he’s staring up into two very serious faces.

“What the hell, you guys. I’ve got purchasing to do.”

Jo and Charlie fold their arms across their chests, like they’ve choreographed this entire confrontation, and stare down at him with don’t-fuck-with-us-Dean-Winchester written clearly in their eyes.

“Purchasing can wait. This can’t.” Jo informs Dean.

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “Fine. What? And if you even tell me we’re out of butter cream frosting again because you two can’t keep your fingers out of it, I will fire you both.”

“You would never fire us,” Jo counters, “but that’s not it. We wanna talk to you about Cas.”

Dean tries to school his expression to something neutral. “What about him?”

Charlie holds up a yellow flower. “These are all over the shop, Dean, they’re in every arrangement Cas sends over or brings in.”

Dean eyes the flower. He’s noticed them too, but Castiel brings in flowers all the time. The difference between all the others and the yellow one Charlie’s holding now is lost on Dean.

“Dean it’s a yellow chrysanthemum,” Jo offers, “we looked it up. It means secret admirer.”

Dean’s brain backpedals. He wants to tell them it’s just a coincidence, but even Dean knows that would be a blatant lie. Castiel is always going on about what flowers mean. Nothing about his arrangements is frivolous; he spends hours picking out the right flowers for everything. It’s what makes him so good at what he does. Dean knows that, and obviously Charlie and Jo do too.

“So,” Dean finally says.

“So he likes you, Dean. And we know you like him.” Charlie states.

Dean shrugs, because he isn’t sure what else to do with his body. “'Course I like him, Cas is a cool guy.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “Oh, don’t give us that bullshit, Winchester. You really think we’re not seeing what’s going on between you two? You. Guys. Are. In. Love.”

Dean slumps back against his chair admitting defeat. It makes sense that Castiel would leave flowers to express how he was feeling towards Dean. He had once mentioned over gooey chocolate chip cookies that he spoke “flower” better than he spoke “person”.

“So what do I do?” Dean finally asks, afraid of what the girls have in mind. He wouldn’t put it past either of them to suggest Dean bake Castiel a cake and ice it with WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME like he did for tenth grade prom.

Jo squeals and claps her hands together, and Charlie beams at Dean in approval.

“Well, he likes flowers, right?” Jo says, plucking the chrysanthemum from Charlie’s hands and handing it to Dean. “So, you get the guy flowers.”

 Dean studies the flower for a moment, thinking of Castiel. “Yeah,” he finally agrees, “okay.”

The next day Dean walks into Castiel’s flower shop about ten minutes to close. His heart is hammering in his chest, his palms clammy with anxiousness, but as he approaches the counter, Castiel’s bright blue eyes greeting him eagerly, he steels his nerves.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says around a small smile, the sight of it causing Dean’s legs to feel wobbly beneath him. Castiel’s eyes seem even brighter than usual, reflecting off the navy blue of his apron, and Dean’s stomach does a pirouette.

“Hey, Cas.”

“I’ve grown used to seeing you on the other side of a counter,” Castiel states, and he’s right. Castiel has been showing up at Dean’s bakery more often than Dean’s been able to find an excuse to buy flowers.

Dean swallows the tennis ball in his throat. “Well, I need some flowers and I was in the area so I thought I’d come to you this time.”

“More flowers for the shop?” Castiel wonders.

“Uh, no. No today they’re a personal purchase.”

“Who are they for?”

As cool as he’s trying to remain, Dean just knows his cheeks are flaring pink. “Someone awesome.”

Castiel nods and steps out from behind the counter, Dean’s eyes immediately moving to track Castiel’s lean frame as it’s revealed. “Alright,” Cas says, “what kind of awesome?”

“Uh,” Dean shifts on his feet, “I-might-be-in-love-with-them awesome.”

“Oh.” Castiel’s shoulders visibly slump, disappoint marring his features.

Dean’s heart plummets to his knees at the sight. Seeing Cas feeling anything less than his usual stoic, calm self is just about the most heart wrenching thing Dean’s ever seen, and that includes the time he absolutely didn’t watch a wolf eat a baby caribou on the Discovery Channel.

“Hey, c'mon. I researched this time.” Dean offers with a light smile. He reaches out a hand and lets it fall to Castiel’s shoulder, squeezing once reassuringly.

Castiel perks up marginally. “What would you like?” He asks. His mood still seems more subdued than Dean would like, but he really doesn’t blame the guy. If Dean thought Castiel was into someone other than himself, he’d be bummed out too.

“Got any yellow chrysanthemums?”

Castiel blushes and looks away, but offers Dean a nod. “Of course.”

Dean follows Castiel through the store, trying not to press into the other man as they walk. Their shoulders are close enough Dean can feel warmth radiating off of Cas’ skin, but as enticing as it is, he forces himself to keep a small distance between them.

“Secret admirer,” Castiel states when they reach the chrysanthemums. He plucks a few out of their container and hands them to Dean. “So this Someone Awesome doesn’t know how you feel about them?”

Dean accepts the flowers with a shake of his head. “Not yet.”

“Alright what’s next?”

“Tulips? I need the yellow kind.”

Castiel turns and heads in another direction, muttering under his breath, “Hopelessly in love.”

When Dean has what Castiel considers to be a sufficient amount of yellow tulips in hand Castiel asks what the last flower is.

“Sunflowers,” Dean answers. A smile twitches at his lips, knowing they’re Castiel’s favorite, but he remains otherwise impartial.

“Adoration,” Castiel breathes. What little neutrality he had left visibly leaks out of him like helium from a balloon.

In that moment Dean nearly gives himself away, unable to bear the obvious pain on Castiel’s face. Instead he simply nods and says, “Yeah.”

Castiel reluctantly hands Dean two sunflowers, and Dean holds up the bouquet of yellow for him to inspect. “What’s your professional opinion?” he asks.

“It’s very different,” Castiel admits, “I’d never think to put it together myself, but because it comes from your heart, it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

A silence settles around them, thick and full of nearly spoken words on the tips of their tongues.

Castiel is the one to break the silence. “Is that everything? It’s nearly closing time.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, buddy. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“It’s no trouble, Dean.”

Dean follows Castiel to the register, bouquet of flowers in hand, and once behind the counter Castiel hands him some paper and taffeta to wrap the flowers in.

Castiel gives him the total as Dean fumbles with the bow. “Would you like me to tie it?” he asks.

“I should probably do it, huh? It’s more special that way, right?” Dean’s gaze flicks up to meet Castiel’s and he watches as the other man swallows and nods.

“That’s right.”

Dean shakily finishes off the bow and fishes his wallet out of his pocket, handing Castiel a few bills and some change.

“Alright, well. Thanks, Cas.” Dean waves the bouquet in the air and turns to leave.


Dean turns back. “Yeah, Cas?”

Castiel is silent for a moment before he finally says, “Whoever you’re giving that bouquet to is very lucky to have your affections.”

Dean looks down at his hands, his cheeks burning once again. After a beat he looks back up and into Castiel’s eyes. “Nah. If they accept it, I’ll be the lucky one.”

Castiel nods and with one final smile Dean heads out the door.

Now all he has to do is wait.

Luckily it doesn’t take Cas long to close up the shop. Dean’s only been perched outside on the hood of his car for about ten minutes when Castiel steps outside and locks the door behind him.

Dean, with heart pounding out a nervous tattoo against his chest, watches Castiel pocket his key. As Castiel turns to face the parking lot, he catches sight of Dean almost immediately and freezes mid-step.

Dean smiles from across the parking lot at him, raising one hand in the air, and giving Castiel a small wave.

“Did you forget something?” Castiel asks as Dean comes to meet him near the door.

“Nope. I’m just waiting.” Dean’s smile is wide, and he has to keep himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“For what?” Castiel asks, the little vee that forms as he furrows his brow sending tingles throughout Dean’s body.

“You, Cas.”

Castiel’s head cants to the side, his blue eyes contemplative.

Dean shakes his head and holds up the bouquet of flowers, bursts of yellow in the fading evening light. He holds them out to Castiel, but Castiel doesn’t take them, leaving Dean’s hand hanging awkwardly between them.

Castiel stares down at the bouquet. “I thought those were for-”

“Someone awesome,” Dean finishes, “you. Cas, the flowers are for you.”

Castiel’s gaze meets Dean’s his eyes wide and so filled with hope Dean could kiss him right then and there. “They’re for me?” he breathes out quietly, almost as if he doesn’t mean for Dean to hear the words.


Castiel finally reaches out and accepts the flowers, his stare boring into them with a sense of wonder Dean didn’t expect.

“No one’s ever given me flowers before,” Castiel states, looking up at Dean once more. He’s smiling, thank fuck, and his eyes are soft, grateful.

Dean shrugs, suddenly very self aware. “You said you spoke 'flower’ better than 'people’. I just thought I’d tell you how I feel in your language. Oh, and I got your message, thanks to Charlie and Jo.”

A smile breaks out across Castiel’s face, bigger than Dean’s ever seen. All of Dean’s insides feel like they’ve melted together to make a big bowl of mushy-love-crap soup, and he’s never felt better in his entire life.

“Secret admirer, hopelessly in love, adoration,” Castiel recites.

“Did I get them right?”

Castiel nods, grabbing the lapels of Dean’s jacket and pulling him close “Dean, may I kiss you now?” he asks. His breath is warm against Dean’s mouth, his voice sending gleeful vibrations through Dean’s chest.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, and then Castiel is closing his mouth over Dean’s and kissing him with all the fervor of a built up admiration that’s been held at bay for weeks.

When they pull apart Castiel pecks Dean on the lips, softly, slowly, before resting his forehead on Dean’s and muttering, “I sunflower you, too.”

A New Kind of Pride


The day had done nothing but drag since Sam had called, he had said that he was safe, him and Azazel had made it home, Dean had woken up and didn’t remember anything and they were staying for John’s funeral. That was what worried him. Apparently Dean didn’t have memories and he didn’t want to go back to being a hunter. He was afraid of having him around even though he had told Sam he was fine with it. It was after all his fault that they were in this predicament. Even so, he wasn’t happy with his agreement. He had years and years ago made the Fiddle to be shifter friendly and it meant not having hunters. Yet in the last six months he had let more of them in that he cared to think about. Sam had been a special case but his brother.

Dean Winchester was a nightmare, he was one of the best hunters in the world of hunters and he was sure there wasn’t a shifter in the world that didn’t know his name and he had invited him to walk right into the Fiddle. Turning the dishwasher on, he wiped his hands on his apron as he walked out the back door of the kitchen.

“I need you to watch the bar for a few hours I need sometime,” he offered to Meg and the bee on the flower beside her he knew to be Castiel. “I need to make a run in to town.” He added lifting up the secret stash and pulling out the cigarette, tucking them in the pocket of his plaid shirt.

“Don’t look at me like that I will bring more back,” he grumbled as he lit one before making his way off the porch and into the woods towards Azazel’s car. He needed some space, needed some time away from the Fiddle and worrying over Sam and his brother. Worrying what would happen when one of the most terrifying hunters got his memories back in the middle of a shifter safe house.


It didn’t take him long to get into town, nothing ever took long when you were driving a car like Azazel’s to be completely honest but needless to say it wasn’t the relaxing drive he had hoped it would be. The town was buzzing with news of John and Dean’s demise, even the gas station attendant had made note to tell him the whole story of the great snake that had ended them both before selling him a carton of cigarettes. He’d never been more thankful that he didn’t know him personally.

After another wasted trip to the store he made one last stop at the small post office box that he kept, it had been a few months since he had been up there, things had gotten a little out of schedule with Zephyr and Sam. Not that he minded, he just needed to remember to check it more, since he was being bumped up to a larger box for some package, probably from father to make more room. Opening the door he pulled out the package and the stack of letters, locking everything back up and stopping at one of the tables to look through everything, It was rare he got anything important, taxes, a few bills, a letter, no scratch that a good couple of letters from Michael.

It wasn’t like his brother to look for correspondence once, let alone four separate times. He skimmed through the rest of the mail, tossing out father’s package and bills he had already paid online before turning his attention to Michael’s reading through them.


I know I’m the last person that you want to speak with right now brother; I won’t pretend to think otherwise. It’s important that I get in contact with you though. Please call me as soon as you can. My number is the same as it has always been.



Things here are getting worse. I do not wish to discuss this through letters but you’re leaving me little choice. Please brother, this is not a trick or a trap. I need to speak with you. Get in contact with me when you can.



It’s about Gabriel…

He’s a shifter like you. There’s not a lot of time to explain but you were right…you were right about everything. I need to get our brother out of here. Please Lucifer, we need shelter. I know what you do and Gabriel needs you. Lucifer he is only a child, him and Abel both. I know I’m the last person you want to see right now but please do not punish our brother for my mistakes.



I don’t know how many of these you are getting Lucifer. Perhaps you no longer check this post box; I do not have a way of knowing. Things got a lot worse after my last letter to you. Raphael is intent on curing and altering shifter genes but to do so he needs shifters. He’s been using Gabriel and Abel until last month when Father helped him to acquire two young lion cubs, Adam and Anna. I was already planning our escape but things had to be rushed with the arrival of the twins.

My timing is terrible and Anna is fussy. She almost got us caught but we managed to make it out. As I write this we are in hiding. I didn’t wish to lead them right to you so I’m waiting a week before heading towards the Fiddle.

I’ve heard from some shifters I’ve come to know that you run the place, that it is safe. I hope you’ll extend this safety to Gabriel and the little ones even if you cannot extend it to me. We will be seeing you shortly Lucifer.

I only hope you receive this before our arrival.

- M.

 Setting the letters to the side, he took in what they said. He wasn’t shocked about Raphael; he had always been a good son doing what father wanted. He and Raphael had never been close and now he was glad for that. He did feel bad for Gabriel and had it been something he knew he would have taken him when he left. More to the point he was worried about Michael. The kids, Gabe and Able, the two lion cubs he could take, Michael was another story. He didn’t know how his no shifter brother, one from such a predominant anti-shifter family would do with the two hunters he was letting into the place. He wasn’t so sure of what he was running any more with the Fiddle.

Wrinkling his nose, he closed up the letter and made his way to the car, stopping when he saw the man there. He would recognize him anywhere. His older brother Michael, his main betrayer. They had been so close until he had wanted to make a life for himself, until he had sided with Father. 

“You look like Hell,” he greeted as he neared the man, forked tongue coming out to taste the air. He tasted like he remembered, warm and like home and for the briefest of moments he felt happy to see him again before he slid his mask back in place. He didn’t smell or taste like deceit so he didn’t feel a reason to run, though he did taste of cat, big cat, he assumed it was the cubs he said he had with him.