So my kids are peacefully playing Pokemon in the library floor, and my mom starts reading some random magazine article aloud to them without even considering asking them if they give a fuck, and then I guess they didn’t both start staring at her all fascinated, because she stopped and demanded to know if they were paying attention. My daughter said she was. So then my mom starts quizzing her on the person in the article’s name, and the date, like damn woman if it wasn’t in front of you I doubt you’d remember. And bless, my daughter did actually regurgitate these useless facts! Stuff it, Nana!
But I tell you because not only does this bullshit exchange resemble most of my mother’s interactions with my kids, but this is how we treat kids as a culture. This is normal. They’re playing a game which requires specialized knowledge, math, reading, sportsmanship, strategy–a lot of thinking. And she still thinks it’s fine to demand that they drop everything and listen to her, because obviously whatever they choose to do doesn’t matter. And most people would see nothing wrong with this.
I don’t even watch The 100 but I’m so invested in Bellarke from the things I’ve seen on my dash that I’m like ‘oh my god he didn’t deny it’ and ‘no way he poisoned octavia for her’ and honestly wow I want them to kiss so much but I have no background at all
I’m fucking dying; we’ve got this three year old over, and he finds our Green Lantern mask, so he comes up to me wearing it and asks what Green Lantern’s powers are. So I tell him Green Lantern has a ring that can ‘make anything he imagines’ (I mean he’s three, I’m not going to Get Into It) and he runs off.
And like 40 seconds later, we hear, “Ring, make me into the Flash!”
The otayuri discourse is amazing like I actually just read a post that said “because Otabek is 18 it makes him “dangerous” to be around Yurio”. Like the fuck is he gonna do?? Show Yurio his large collection of unpaid bills and crippling college debt??
Dean never thought he would see the day when Castiel, angel of the Lord, would fall in love with a baby.
But, on a chilly November day, sitting in the house of a family being haunted by a violent poltergeist, he was proven wrong.
Castiel and Dean were sitting on the blue and pink floral couch, shifting uncomfortably against the scratchy cushions. The dad of the house sat on an ottoman across from them, attempting to wrangle a two-year-old flopping around at his feet as he explained the hauntings of the past few days. Dean nodded intently and tried to listen to the man’s voice above the chaotic din of the household. Beside him, Castiel was stiff and uncomfortable.
That is, until the man’s wife came through the door, holding a chunky ball of human with grabby hands, dripping spit, and incoherent blabbering noises, all wrapped in a ducky onesie. And once Cas saw that baby, it was all over.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Castiel lean minutely forward toward the baby, his eyes a little wider. He stared at it; it stared back. Promptly broke the stare to laugh and uncoordinatedly clap its hands together, a fresh dribble of spit dripping down its cheek.
Throughout the interview, Dean noticed that Cas and the damn baby were making constant eye contact at each other. The baby would giggle uproariously if Cas cracked even a centimeter of a smile on his face. It went absolutely berserk if he made any sort of funny face at all. The whole time he kept gravitating more and more toward the baby, hands twitching as sensing the emptiness of them.
“Would you like to hold her?” the mother finally asked, sensing Cas’ distress. She smiled and held up her baby toward him as an offering.
Castiel didn’t compute his great luck until Dean shoved an elbow into his side. “Just hold the baby, man,” he said gruffly.
Cas gingerly hooked two hands underneath either of the baby’s arms, her small feet kicking against his thighs. At first, Castiel simply stared, awkward, unsure of how to address this tiny human in front of him.
To Dean’s dismay, the whole interrogation about the hauntings came to an abrupt halt, the entire room focused on Castiel and his new baby friend.
“Try bouncing her, she loves that,” the mother said.
Castiel began an awkward bobbing motion with his arms. The baby’s face scrunched up, lower lip pouting, to show her displeasure with the movement.
Dean huffed out a sigh and scooted closer to Cas on the couch; their shoulders brushed against each other as he took the baby from Cas. “This is how you hold a baby, weirdo,” he said affectionately, cradling the baby into the crook of his arm. She continued to stare up at Castiel with warm brown eyes during the whole exchange. Dean couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his face when he saw Cas softly grin at the baby, letting her take one of his fingers into her small fingers.
“You two would make great dads,” the father finally said, approvingly.
Dean cleared his throat roughly, quickly looking away from Cas and the baby. “Well, not part of the job description,” he said.
Castiel nodded sadly, brow crinkling as the baby gripped his finger more tightly and cooed.
It took a few abortive missions to get Castiel to surrender the baby to her mother and say goodbye. The damn baby and Cas were practically having a love affair, with Castiel looking over his shoulder twice at her as they walked toward the Impala. They could hear the baby’s howling cries when she couldn’t see Cas in her line of sight anymore.
“So,” Dean said loudly when they were both in their seats, “never pegged you as a baby person.”
Castiel looked lost as he told Dean, “I didn’t either. But I could see her soul… it was beautiful. Pure. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“There’s a reason why people think babies are cute,” Dean snorted, gruffly pulling on his seatbelt.
“I sometimes wish that we could have children.”
Dean’s brain was temporarily unavailable as it jumped off a cliff. When it kickstarted, he managed to strangle out, “Uh… run that by me again?”
“A child,” he replied calmly. “I wish that you and I could have a child.”
“Like… can… guy angels, can they…”
Cas fixed him with an incredulous stare. “Firstly, I am not a “guy angel”. And I was referring to adoption.”
“Oh,” Dean let out a relieved breath.
“Why, so it could grow up to be a screwed-up hunter like me and Sam? Or a quirky, dysfunctional angel like you?”
Cas turned his head to him and blinked at him. “Dean, if our child grew up to be anything like you, it would be wonderful.”
Coughing uncomfortably, Dean muttered, “Well that’s - “ He starts the car, trying to cover his blush, and grit out, “Yeah, whatever, Cas. Not a possibility in our line of work, anyway.”
Humming in agreement, Castiel absently put a hand on the back of Dean’s neck, stroking lightly. “It’s nice to dream, though.”
Dean looked over at Castiel; there’s a faraway look in his eyes and a small smile on his face that Dean rarely saw. Pulling out into the road, Dean agreed softly, “Yeah. It’s nice to dream.”