I love you, Misha. I mean, honestly, from the bottom of my heart that I say that.
ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪғᴇ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴀsᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ
ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ’s ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ
ᴀɴᴅ ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀғʀᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪᴇ
Like you’re a servant of Heaven. You’re the great vessel? You’re pathetic, self-hating, and faithless. It’s the end of the world. And you’re just gonna sit back and watch it happen.
inspired by this video
Dean doesn’t realize what’s happening until after the proverbial train has already left the station.
It starts six months after The Fall. With every passing month, each one failing to bring any solutions with it, Dean witnesses more and more resignation from Cas in accepting his humanity — from the slope of Castiel’s shoulders, to the longer periods of sleep. When Cas finally decides to get his anti-possession tattoo, he takes a few days to consider its placement, not wanting to replicate what the brothers already share (and normally, Dean would’ve given him shit for this, would’ve reminded him that its protection was more important than where it ended up, but he didn’t want to add any more to the strain).
They drive into the next town over, the silence stretching miles between them that Dean doesn’t know how to cover. He contemplates going to the bar down the street while Cas gets his tattoo, but then Dean’s reminded of the lack of angel mojo when Cas settles himself into the chair with more finesse than he possessed when he had wings, and finds that he’s curious to see the reactions to what’s about to happen. Cas wants it on the back of his neck, he tells the man, and Dean almost snorts before biting back a why? But Castiel takes it like a champ, brows creasing together to display his only sign of discomfort, and on the drive back Dean catches Cas’ hand snaking up to gingerly touch the bottom of the plastic covering the fresh ink. This is his gateway, the first of many addictions, and Dean is none the wiser until the tattoos cease to be a source of relief for Castiel.
It begins to come to a head a year after The Fall.
Sam has finally recovered completely from the trials, even though demons continue to roam free. The radio silence from Crowley and all things Hell has been almost unsettling, but they’ve kept busy tracking the regular hunts in-between finding the fallen angels that had lit up the map in the bunker. Castiel’s skills and experience as a soldier remain in tact, a truth that he revels in whenever opportunity presents itself on the job, and Dean is no less impressed — smiting or not, Cas still has a deadly set of hands. Up until recently, it’d been mostly him and Cas out in the field, Dean refusing to allow Sam to strain himself any more than necessary while they figured shit out. The thrill of having both Sam and Cas covering his back was almost enough of an adrenaline high, but Cas had declined the last two hunts, and the paranoia was starting to get to him.
Cas had begun to pick up Dean’s affinity for alcohol, often joining him for several drinks more often than Sam, and with the bleak and fabricated future of Zachariah’s influence prickling at the back of his mind, Dean made sure to keep an eye on any pills they came across. Although picking up these vices made something in Dean twist that he couldn’t describe — Castiel was better than he was once — he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed, and secretly longed for when they didn’t happen, their whispered admissions to each other as they drank. They started off short and vague, sometimes even innocent, but the more Cas began to feel, the more he needed to confess and relate. It was almost entirely on accident, then, that Dean leaned forward and kissed him after Cas told him he had barely understood human contact as an angel, and even less of it now.
Even the book that Dean launched at Sam’s head couldn’t stop his brother from laughing the next day when he saw Cas walk out of Dean’s room wearing Dean’s clothes, a breathless finally lost among the scuffling of shoes.
Dean had been right to be weary of Cas’ addictive personality (most of which was usually harmless, like his discovery of chocolate) but now that he was the current fixation, Dean was determined to work to stay the number one fix that Cas couldn’t do without — an addiction that was reciprocated, no less, his normally steady hands always itching to touch Cas’ skin no matter what time of day it was. Dean confessed about as much later that night, right palm resting beneath Cas’ adam’s apple, fingertips tapping out a beat to the pulse in his neck while Dean kissed and panted against the anti-possession tattoo resting at the nape. It had taken everything to get them here.
“You don’t see me but I threw you the obvious just to see if there’s more behind the eyes of a fallen angel, the eyes of a tragedy.”
you guys all think that canada is so innocent but in grade one i had a geography teacher with three fingers and he gave me a C because i pronounced Kenya differently than him and when my mom reported it to the office we found out that he wasn’t even supposed to be teaching at my school he was literally some stranger who wandered in
in the name of
hand in the name of heart
AND ONCE AGAIN THE SUPERNATURAL FANDOM TAKES THE WHEEL
“Challenge accepted!” —SPN fandom.
omg this is still going
IT’S A RULE TO REBLOG EVERY TIME IT SHOWS UP ON YOUR DASH.
i’m not even in the supernatural fandom and i’m still going to reblog
lost count of the times i’ve reblogged this