I didn’t want to be sad every time I go onstage … and I didn’t want to sink back into depression or relive these things over and over again, I wanted to make myself happy and when I get on stage everything is so happy. I’m having the time of my life.
Happy 22nd Birthday Kehlani Ashley Parrish | April 24th, 1995.
Please do tell me more about that AU with Cas as a pagan god.It's absolutely necessarily.Believe me.The world needs it.
Dean stands in complete silence, breathless as he understands what he’s seeing. It’s a temple. It sits quietly between the trees, unmoved by time, light dancing on the leaves covering it’s surface. Forgotten and ruined, it became part of the forest, stone floors and crumbled walls covered in moss and vines. It’s almost impossible to see where one ends and the other beings, with columns made of trees it looks like it belongs there, right in the middle of nowhere. It looks so natural that Dean doesn’t even realize where he is until he’s right before the altar.
He breathes, taking the final step and finding himself in place which is usually reserved for the higher priests and priestess. Slowly, he starts to clean the altar, revealing dark stone with edges covered in sigils.
Somewhere a bird starts singing, and the dust drifts lazily in the air, glittering in the sunlight.
Gods are absolute. Some are older than the world itself, able to bend and shape both time and space. Some are younger, created by the violent fire of newly-born Sun or the first drop of rain on Earth.
He traces the symbols with his fingertips, unfamiliar shapes he wishes he could understand. He doesn’t need to know their meaning to recognize that they are ancient, though. This temple belongs to a god so old that his worshipers spoke in a language no one knows anymore. An language that doesn’t look like anything else Dean has ever seen.
A shiver runs down his spine.
He know stories about the old gods, born of chaos and the first light, gods that are here from always and that will be forever. About their many faces and countless wings, thousand eyes burning brighter than the Sun and voice louder that thunder.
Young gods are scary, the old ones are terrifying.
This thought alone makes him drop to his knees, suddenly aware of how disrespectful he was, walking like that into a god’s home, standing before an altar with his soul so dirty. He doesn’t have much ; all he can offer in apology is a little bit of milk and honey he has left.
He watches as the stone becomes white and gold, and prays for forgiveness to a nameless diety.