why am i always so late with shows

Here I am, showing up a week late with starbucks! Happy Valentine’s Day to my valentine, @capaxinfiniticas ! Enjoy a lil something about true love :)


Castiel didn’t know anything about love.

He came face to face with this truth whenever he held conferences with the cherubim; this was why he always felt out of his depth in being their leader. In some ways, however, he was the perfect candidate for the job. He was not blinded by love nor any other emotions that could get in the way of efficiently and unbiasedly carrying out the Host’s orders.

That was why, when a cherub came to him on this day in heaven’s gardens, Castiel listened intently. He was a strategist above all else, after once being the leader of an angelic war battalion around the same time humans were busy discovering fire.

“Castiel! My lord, I regret to inform you…” The cherub shied away from Castiel’s intense stare, their pudgy face screwing up like they were expecting reprimand. None of the cherubim ever understood his expressions. “I regret to inform you that… that…”

“Amana, we have gone over this enough times: you may speak to me however you are most comfortable.”

“But – your face looks unhappy–”

“My face just looks like this. Please, continue, and I will not pass judgement.” The cherub held out their pinky finger and Castiel sighed, reaching for it. “I pinky promise.”

“Thank you, Castiel, that makes me feel a lot better. Phew!” The cherub wiped sweat off their brow. “I tried really, really hard to find a connection for Dean Winchester. I thought I found the perfect match, but the arrow missed! Again!” Amana brandished the spear in question from the quiver on their back, twiddling it around. It had markings carved into its shaft. “This silly old thing, it never wants to go anywhere near Dean Winchester! It’s like it has an aversion to him, which might be telling us he was never meant to find true love in the first place, even with celestial interference… oh!” The cherub looked off to the side dramatically, face full of sorrow. Their lower lip shook as they clutched the spear to their chest. “Say it isn’t so, Castiel! Is that possible?!”

“No, I don’t believe it is.” Castiel calmly placed his hand on Amana’s, then turned it over to request for the spear to be handed over. Amana gave it up after their panic passed. “Thank you. I’ll look into this Dean Winchester myself, and now you are free to move on to your next assignment.”

“Oh, good luck with that one, my lord! Good luck! I’ve been trying for months and months and months, and I thought I might have been doing something wrong! That’s great news, absolutely great news!” Amana squeezed Castiel into a sweaty bear hug, shaking him from side to side right in the middle of the garden.

Castiel pat the cherub on the shoulder, forcing a tight smile onto his face. He hated their hugs.

*****

When an arrow misses its target, it is never through fault of the cherub’s aim: it is only a sign of wrong love. Then it’s up to the cherub to find a different connection, one that is stronger than the last so the arrow can find its destined target. This entire process could be skipped if only the target met their destined connection, though the chances of that happening were two in six-billion. As such, the cherubim did not rely on this method often.

There must have been a reason why none of their best attempts worked on Dean; they must have been missing something. Castiel’s job was to find out what exactly it was they were missing.

And what an angel like Castiel could do that the cherubim couldn’t, was enter the dreams of humans.

He stood off to the very edge of one of Dean Winchester’s dreams, glancing around the scene before him. He was in a park surrounded by flurries of strikingly red and orange leaves as they fell to the ground, the chime of children’s laughter filling the air as they ran by.

Dean sat on a bench by himself, the empty space next to him standing out in stark contrast. Dean clasped his hands together in his lap; he was just enjoying the weather like everybody else in his dream-world. Castiel narrowed his eyes and waited. There had to be a catch.

Suddenly, a parade marched past Dean along the dirt path, with circus animals and loud instruments and cymbals clashing together.

Dean stood up and walked in the opposite direction of the parade with a look of disgust, right towards Castiel who stood next to a tree. Cas flapped his wings with a mighty gust of wind, and exited the dream before Dean could see him.

*****

After that, Castiel visited Dean’s dreams every night in an attempt to figure out what he desired. He watched Dean live, and fight – because he would never run from his nightmares – and most importantly, he watched Dean experience and confront his own subconscious.

Something changed inside Castiel while he observed this imperfect being, though he couldn’t quite place what.

*****

After some months of this passed, Castiel decided he could not figure out this problem on his own.

He had always been known for his outlandish ideas and strange battle tactics, and this time was no exception: he was going to visit Dean directly in one of his dreams.

Castiel wasted no time once he entered Dean’s dream that night, waving away the scene with a flick of his hand. The space around him dissolved like steam, then settled back into the same park from the first dream he’d entered. It was presenting itself the middle of February now, with barren trees lining the dirt path and wind howling through empty expanses of space.

Castiel observed Dean from behind a tree again, waiting for him to just accept the new turn his dream had taken while he circled around the park. He ended up sitting on the same bench as last time, his legs outstretched towards the dirt path. He whistled a tune to himself. Castiel approached Dean. He did so slowly, so that Dean had more than enough time to spot Cas and decide if he’d allow this interaction to happen. However, Dean just stared straight ahead. He stopped whistling to say, "You know, I never had a dream like this before.”

Castiel lingered by the side of the bench for a moment. “I wouldn’t imagine you have. I made it for you.”

With the gesture of a hand, Dean invited Cas to fill the empty space next to him. He sat down when Dean finally seemed to accept his words, humming. “What does that make you then, some type ‘a freaky djinn?”

“I do not possess the same abilities nor the same motivations as a djinn, no. Do you consider this dream to be a desirable scenario?”

“Well you’ve been warming up my dreams for a few months now whenever you do your thing in the background. I always know you’re here, so yeah, it ain’t half bad.”

“I’ve been 'warming your dreams’?” Castiel repeated in question.

Dean turned. “What? Yeah, like you do that, literally. Unless I got somebody else knocking around up here.”

“That is unlikely. I would have found them by now.” Castiel tilted his head at Dean, just regarding him. No more distractions. “What I came here to tell you, Dean Winchester, is that heaven has very big plans for you, plans of which you have not made easy on us.”

Dean scoffed. “Dream on if you think that’ll ever change, angel boy.” They caught each other’s eye just then for the first time.

A sudden cacophony erupted amongst the cherubim over angel radio. Castiel tried to cover his ears from the sound but to no avail, inhaling sharply through his teeth. It started with shouts of rejoice, over and over again between mentions of Dean Winchester’s name. He had to go back and see what had happened.

“We’ll see about that. Now I must go.” Castiel stood up, outstretching his wings.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but some others might not be.” He looked back at Dean just before he departed, completely misinterpreting the interest he saw there.

Heaven was in an uproar. Castiel appeared in the middle of it all, with angels and seraphim and cherubim alike flying around in a frenzy. Amana the cherub came to him with their arms raised in the air. “Rejoice! Rejoice, Castiel! Dean Winchester has met his destined connection! He was always meant for true love, isn’t that amazing!” Amana hugged themselves and spun in a circle, their eyes going all dewy.

“Amana. Can you tell me who it is?”

The cherub paused for a moment. “If you give me Dean’s spear, that should be able to tell us. Oh, I’m so happy I could cry!” They twirled around again, their wings fluttering behind them.

Castiel materialized the spear Amana had given him the last time they’d met. Its shaft had many names notched into the wood, each one crossed out with an almost disappointed slash. When Amana held the arrow again, they hovered their palm over the shaft, a soft pink light emanating from it. The spear’s surface was cleaned, the previous names disappearing so a new one had enough room to carve itself into the side. Because Dean had met his true connection, the name would come to them all on its own. They watched it together, both of them now holding Dean’s spear.

It spelled 'Castiel’.

Amana fainted beside him.

So that was why the entire Host was in a frenzy - this was something unheard of, an angel and a human being destined together.

But it was true. Dean must have fallen in love with Castiel, and Cas now knew that he had fallen in love with Dean. With his spirit, his mortality, everything that made him so terribly human. Only Dean Winchester could face a powerful force like Castiel and openly defy him without so much as batting an eye. He couldn’t tell if it was out of stupidity or bravery; oftentimes, Castiel noted, they were the same thing.

Castiel fled to Dean before any of the other angels could find him.

If he knew anything, he knew he could find the answers with Dean.

anonymous asked:

i hate my life bc i feel like i dont have anyone yes i have friends and yes i know they care about me but something just isnt right i feel that im not the first option and idk i just am so sad lately and idk why i just want someone to love and care for me and show it so i dont always have to second guess it

Maybe it would help you when you get a best friend. Try to get closer to one of your friends and spend more time with them

When I first starting coming to terms with being attracted to women, I finally built up enough courage to tell my therapist. She responded by saying that if I followed those desires I would “Never be the woman God wanted me to be.” She was right… because I’m now the man that I was always meant to be. 


I will never forget that day. Sometimes I am tempted to visit her and show her who I really am and how far I have come. I have been thinking about it a lot lately. I remember when I told her about my attraction to women her whole face lit up. Like I was her next biggest miracle project. She was so confident that she was going to fix me. I remember her saying “This is what the issue has been the whole time.. I was wondering why we couldn’t get passed anything.” She was happy that it wasn’t her therapy skills that were not letting me progress.. it was my deep dark secret that I was not filing her in on. Right away she tried to get me to read books on homosexuality, and wanted to accompany me to conversion groups. I gave her a maybe… and then never returned. She continued to text me. This is the last text that she sent me. She said that she hoped that I had not given up. Well, Susan. I did give up. I gave up living a lie. I gave up the shame, the guilt, and any fucks I had about what people thought about me. 

I know I’m a bit late but I still want to share my thoughts on a specific panel of chapter 319:

First of all, let me say how glad I am that Ohtaka-sensei decided to include a panel where Kougyoku’s tears are visible.

Kougyoku is a character that always used her facial expressions to show a variety of feelings. She’s one of the most expressive characters and we have witnessed her crying in various (and completely different) occasions. So, it is in line with her character to cry because she feels relieved and at peace.

Another reason why this panel is important to me is because fictional characters are often not allowed to express their feelings via crying or when they do they are regarded -by both media and audience- as something lesser than the less expressive characters. It’s not uncommon to see female characters that cry a lot being labeled as “crybabies”, “pathetic” or even being denied their emotional strength just because they shed a few - or more! - tears.

In my opinion, emotional strength has little to do with whether a person cries often or not and more with whether the person is able to overcome the obstacles in their way and keep on living. That’s why Kougyoku is a strong female character to me. 

 Kougyoku can deliver a cool speech, outwit master manipulator (I mean Sinbad here) on a specific subject, free her nation from the IA  and still express herself in the way she always used to, via crying.  She doesn’t need to change the core of her character in order to become “badass”. She can be awesome and cry at the same time. I’m grateful that Ohtaka sensei allowed her to do that.

The Magic of Moffat

Okay, so this is very, very late for Moffat Appreciation Day, and originally I was going to write something else entirely anyway. But I was watching the Doctor Who Confidential for “A Christmas Carol” for the first time, and I was reminded once again why I fell head-over-heels in love with the Moffat Era of Doctor Who and why it will probably always be my favorite era of the show.

It’s the magic of it.

We all know that magic has been a recurring theme for the past five years, but I think it bears repeating that the Moffat Era is full of magic.

It’s this magic that allows a young woman with a heavenly voice to save a spaceship full of people by singing one of the most beautiful songs ever written for a Christmas special or film.

It allows memories to bring people back into reality.

A married couple breaks a spell by dying together. A leaf destroys a vampire sun. A ghost story turns out to be a love story. An entire world is saved and an old soul redeemed by the tears of another young woman. A baby dragon hatches from the Moon, its life protected by a child and a schoolteacher. An overnight forest speaks through another child and saves a world from being burned. A group of people dying in dreams are saved by Santa Claus. A Dalek shooting you transports rather than kills you. The split-second between this heartbeat and your last stretches on almost to infinity.

What are these things if not magic? And it’s not a dark kind of magic, either—it’s not the theme of another TV show, saying that “All magic comes with a price.” This is a magic that is full of beauty and hope, that stands up to the darkness and refuses to back down.

This is the magic of Moffat, and I am forever grateful to him for it.