Ghost!Castiel and Ghost!Dean meeting in a graveyard.
Castiel died a long time ago, over 100 years have past since he was laid to rest under the earth, while Dean is a new addition.
Under the pale moonlight, they dance together to ghostly music and Dean picks the flowers off his grave to give to Castiel.
(for imjustabitch, who wanted some spy!cas)
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean shouted as he struggled against the ropes holding him to the metal chair. “My husband is a tax accountant!”
The Little Book of Bella: dont-blink-get-the-speight: Pocket angel/conscience Castiel makes all...
Pocket angel/conscience Castiel makes all his own clothes. Gabriel buys him scraps and off-cuts of fabric at the local haberdashery. All the shop assistants know Gabriel by sight. They also know he bought a dolls house off ebay. Castiel lives in it and he has a…
Everyone is cute, they just may not be YOUR kind of cute. But they’re cute to someone, and that thought alone is adorable.
(via profoundbondmates)
(Source: parksandspn, via profoundbondmates)
Cas with like ten other fallen angels hanging out in the bunker, burning their lips on their tea every time they try to take a sip, gossiping in Enochian, and when Dean comes in with a fresh tray of snacks they all abruptly stop talking and look at him.
“What were you talking about?” Dean wouldn’t normally pry, but Cas is blushing and now he’s curious.
From a couch at the back of the room, one of the angels pipes up helpfully, “Not your butt!”
(via profoundbondmates)
The real issue is whether or not season 9 will confirm or deny our collective headcanon that Cas is grumpy in the mornings.
(via profoundbondmates)
i hope there’s a scene in season 9 where a group of fallen angels are talking and one of them says “you breed with the mouth of a goat” and they all just piss themselves laughing
(via mishas-assbutts)
literature meme. 9 poems. mutually assured destruction, sherman alexie. (x)
When I was nine, my father sliced his knee
With a chainsaw. But he let himself bleed
And finished cutting down one more tree
Before his boss drove him to EMERGENCY.
Late that night, stoned on morphine and beer,
My father needed my help to steer
His pickup into the woods. “Watch for deer,”
My father said. “Those things just appear
Like magic.” It was an Indian summer
And we drove through warm rain and thunder,
Until we found that chainsaw, lying under
The fallen pine. Then I watched, with wonder,
As my father, shotgun-rich and impulse-poor,
Blasted that chainsaw dead. “What was that for?”
I asked. “Son,” my father said. “Here’s the score.
Once a thing tastes blood, it will come for more.”
(via profoundbondmates)
