#charlie's LARP ass

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

Felicia Day voice-acted for Queen Wealhtheow in a read-aloud of Maria Dahavana Headley's translation of Beowulf.

This is a painting of Wealhtheow from an illustrated edition of Beowulf... circa 1908

...and Charlie is a complete Ren Faire nerd who LARPs SPECIFICALLY as the queen of a viking/anglo-saxon-esque kingdom.

The amount of SHEER BRAINROT this gives me.

Is it just a straight past-lives situation at this point? Were they always fated to find each other again?

What's more fucked-up(complimentary)? That in their next lives, the major characters of Beowulf still found each other, and although they are still cursed, still monstrous, Wealhtheow is a friend and ally to Grendel and his Mother? That she doesn't know that she's living out her past life through LARPing and other fantasy, just as they're living out their past lives through a very real, inescapable and fatal curse?

Or that it was the same way the first time? We don't know much about Wealhtheow's early life. She was foreign-born, either married to Hrothgar* in a political union or, depending on who you believe, given to him as a slave as part of a peace treaty (I'm not sure if people in that culture/time would have even considered these to be separate concepts). We don't know anything about where Grendel and his Mother were prior to the events of Beowulf, either, except that Grendel's Mother seems to have ruled here Mere (swamp) for a ~100 years, but also that the pair had wandered the wilderness and outer edges of society together since time immemorial.

Its not impossible that Grendel and his Mother, in their travels, could have saved the life of a foreign princess- become her friend, or her ally.

There are some theories that Wealhtheow may have been from what is now England. If we choose to mix folklore with utter disregard for academia or timestream, that puts her in the place (the culture of the Britons) and time (~500s a.d.) that King Arthur was said to have lived in**. Going by Arthuriana, their relationship with Mysterious, Sword-Bearing Water Women was MUCH friendlier than the Scandinavian cultures featured in Beowulf.

*will need to make a whole other post abt that guy

**spn aside, the Arthur/Beowulf thing is FASCINATING and I need to write something with it at some point

They could have been friends. Its not impossible. Their story could have begun the same as it did in spn...

It ended differently the first time (THE FIRST TIME. SPN WASNT THE FIRST TIME. FUCK!!!!). Still in tragedy, just a different kind, a slower kind. Did Grendel or his Mother see Wealhtheow at Heorot after she was married/given/captured? Did Wealhtheow see them? Did they speak, or part in silence, knowing that they were now on opposite sides of an impassable boundary?

Did Wealhtheow hold back tears as she saw Grendel's arm, and later his head, and learned what had happened to his Mother?

Did she remember her friends?

.....FUCKKKKKKK

Charlie has almost definitely read Beowulf, but I don't know if Sam & Dean ever told her (any version of her) about the Mark of Cain situation. Did she recognize them in the text? Did she recognize herself?

[artbyblastweave]

A while ago, I heard some piece of Apocrypha that Fallout 3 was originally set only 20 or so years after the Bombs dropped, and was later moved up in the timeline in order to accommodate familiar and marketable setting elements like the BOS, the Super Mutants, and so on. I forget where I heard this, and I don’t necessarily think it’s true. But I think it’s a really interesting lens to view a lot of the stories and characters through. You assume 20 years and suddenly it makes sense that someone like Moira is just now getting around to trying to codify survival advice; your choice to take the project seriously or half-ass it for personal gain then becomes a statement about the future of the world. You assume 20 years and suddenly it makes sense that they’d build Megaton in a crater, even if it had a live bomb in it, and haven’t yet had opportunity to move somewhere without a bomb. You assume 20 years and suddenly the Andale cannibals make a lot more sense; they aren’t LARPing pre-war life with eerie accuracy, they’re desperately play-acting at the lifestyle they thought they were going to have when they were kids or young adults, and the old guy they’ve got with them is the actual adult from that period who has the context to understand what they’re aping and how fucked it is. Tenpenny, Moriarity, and Dukov all make more sense now; their immigration doesn’t post date the war, they immigrated *before,* to escape the resource wars. Tenpenny Tower as a power bloc is an affluent settlement that *held out* rather than something that just happened to spring up centuries afterward. Agatha doesn’t have a tenuous connection to a famous musician who got sealed up in vault 92, she herself was a famous musician who got out before it all went to shit, and reuniting her with the violin is a decision to help something purely good from the old world last a little while longer. The Gary uprising was recent. The Lone Wanderer is as old as the new world. Lucas Simm’s sheriff getup, Three-Dogs anachronistic radio DJ routine, the whole thing with the Vampires, the Mechanist and the Antagonizer- it’s not passed-down half-remembered cultural knowledge, they’re doing bits as a coping mechanism, or because its still actively recognizable to a plurality. Little Lamplight and Big Town I think make a little more sense under this paradigm. Vault 112 is aping a world that recently died. I haven’t even touched how much more sense the main plot makes if people have only been dealing with the bad water for half a generation instead of 200 years. Going full Charlie Kelly this fine evening

[aylacavebear]

The Curse That Changed Your Life - Part 1 Chapter 2

You were just a regular, ordinary woman in your twenties working at the Gas N’ Sip. Life was simple and boring, and you liked it that way. It wasn’t until some strange woman came to your store, mumbled some Latin under her breath, that everything changed. So, you did the only thing you could think of with your new appearance, became a dancer at a club far from the town you grew up in. But what will you do when the green-eyed FBI agent starts asking questions?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2815

Warnings: Angst, Slow-Burn, Death, Dashed Hopes - severe depression, Spell Ingredients, Charlie being nosy (yes, this is a warning).

A/N: This one played through my mind while listening to Cherry Pie one day on my way to work.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

That first month at the bunker was interesting, to say the least. Dean had done his best to keep his comments to himself and only ogle you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. That hadn’t lasted long. 

It had happened the first day and only an hour after you’d been awake. He’d opened his mouth and said something, but before he could even realize what he’d said, you’d made it to the other side of the table and slapped him. All you remembered at this point was that it had something to do with your ass and the way it looked in your shorts. Sam was dying of laughter before you’d left the kitchen to enjoy your coffee in the library.

The bunker, on the other hand, was fascinating. It was massive and held tons of information on the things that went bump in the night. The facilities alone had your jaw on the floor. 

You also couldn’t count how many times Sam apologized for his brother’s behavior. You shrugged it off, though, explaining you wouldn’t tolerate it and Dean would eventually stop. Sam attempted to explain how stubborn his brother was, but you simply told him that he could exercise some manners.

Near the end of the first week, you met Eileen. She was sweet and kind, which you were thankful for. However, you were surprised to learn she was deaf and wished you knew sign language. She had decided to stay at the bunker while trying to figure out this witch business.

Charlie was energetic. It was the only way you could describe her when she showed up. She said something about having to see you with her own eyes, which was when you learned she was into games and things like LARPing. She showed up a couple of days later.

She bombarded you with questions, most of which you didn’t mind answering. It was the other ones that she had gotten persistent with that you just said no to without giving her a real reason. So, after almost three weeks, she was getting a little whiny about it as the five of you sat around the tables in the library, pouring through books.

“Please. I’ll be gentle,” Charlie begged you again to touch your tail.

“Charlie, I’d rather you didn’t, and let's leave it at that,” you replied with your nose still stuck in the book in front of you.

“How come?” she pouted.

You sighed, “It’s… personal, okay.”

“Pleeeaassseeee,” she whined, making you groan.

They’d been back from a supply run for about four hours now, and you were pretty sure you’d have to give her something more than just a ‘no’ to her incessant begging.

Without even looking up from your book, you answered her flatly, “I’m not into girls, and it’s rather sensitive.”

“Oh,” Charlie replied, somewhat surprised. Then she got curious again, “Are your ears like that too?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Yes. Now, can we drop the topic?”

Dean was thankful that you were more focused on the book and not him. It had been ridiculously hard not to make remarks about your looks, let alone keep his expression from giving away what he was thinking about. Now, he was beyond curious and even more interested in you, in a far more physical way than you wanted to have with him.

“Yeah,” Charlie began, and just as she was about to go back to her book, she looked back over at you. “Wait. Do you go into heat like a cat, too?”

“How the hell do you get away with asking her that, but I can’t?” Dean complained loudly.

You’d had enough at that point. You understood they were curious just how cat-like you were, but that one had hit your last nerve. Without a word, you grabbed your book, the mostly full bottle of whiskey, and went to your room, slamming the door behind you.

“What’d I say?” Charlie asked, fairly confused.

“Pretty sure she doesn’t want to discuss her personal stuff with anyone, Charlie,” Sam chuckled, his nose still stuck in his book. He’d stayed out of the conversation, as had Eileen.

“But, why’d she have to take my whiskey?” Dean pouted, looking at his mostly empty glass now, making Sam laugh at him, again.

None of them had an answer for him, and you weren’t about to go back out there to tell him you needed something to drown out your thoughts and the overwhelming emotions. You slipped the pieces of cotton in your ears before getting comfortable on your bed with the book.

As you read, you sipped the whiskey. It was yet another book on witches and spells. You weren’t even sure how many you’d read through in the last almost five days. Mostly, you glazed over the ingredients of spells but paid attention to the important details.

An hour later, though, you were now sitting up, reading the same spell for the fifth time, and your heart was pounding in your chest. It was a spell to summon the witch that had cursed you. It was the witch’s love of sweets that you instantly recognized within the wording. You realized the main reason you had to help the brothers in this regard: the spell itself called for your blood and some hair of your feline features. The problem was that there was a high likelihood you’d be stuck like you were, and that was because of how far the physical changes had gone. 

Great!

You slammed the book shut and just sat there thinking about your predicament. Within minutes, though, your conscience got the better of you. Opening the book back up to the spell, you returned to the library.

“Here, Sam. I found the spell, and yes, you can use my blood,” you grumbled, plopping the book down on the table in front of him.

All of them jumped a little, their eyes on Sam, you, and the book that Sam was now reading. He only glanced at you briefly, and you knew he’d read about the warning.

“Hey, can I have my whiskey back?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, going back to your room.

More than half the bottle was gone at this point, and you took one more swig before you returned to the library and set it in front of him.

“Sorry about drinking so much. I’ll pay for more,” you told him somberly before returning to your room.

So much for ever being normal again.

The thought was depressing. You hadn’t wanted to hope, but it had gotten the better of you, and now, you were somewhat depressed. Your entire body felt heavy as you climbed into bed, not even bothering to change your clothes and turned off the light.

Back in the Library…

“You gonna share, Sam?” Dean asked, still looking toward the hallway where you’d gone.

“Well, the good news is we can summon the witch. The bad news,” he sighed, “She might be stuck that way.”

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eileen asked.

“Not unless we involve Rowena, and even that could be risky according to this,” Sam explained, “Even if we kill this witch, it might not break the curse.”

“I thought that was how all curses were broken, by killing the witch,” Charlie questioned, now confused.

“If her body was changed too much—more like a cat than a human—killing the witch wouldn’t turn her back. Then there’s the other problem. Trying to break that curse could kill her,” Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“So, she’s stuck like that?” Eileen asked.

“Probably,” Sam sighed, glancing toward the hallway. He probably felt the worst for the situation you had ended up in.

Dean didn’t make a single comment or snarky remark. He actually felt bad, too. It was sort of fun to tease you a bit about your cat features, but now, he really did feel bad. He had found you utterly attractive from the missing person’s reports. Then, seeing you with cat ears and a tail, he could barely think straight.

Now, though, after spending a month with you and getting to know you a little more, his interest had gone further than your looks. He still somehow wanted to help you, even if you couldn’t be normal again. 

“So, we gonna summon this bitch tonight or tomorrow?” Charlie asked, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“Probably tomorrow. We should all get some rest,” Sam replied.

The following day…

You may have woken early, but you stayed curled in bed.

Why did I have to get my hopes up?

The room was dark, but seeing in shades of grey kept it from ever looking like the blackness you remembered the dark looking like. The cotton was still in your ears. You’d discovered that trick a week after you’d changed, thankful it made things sound normal again.

Grabbing your phone off the night table, you glanced at the date and rolled your eyes, knowing that your monthly cycle would hit you in a day or two. It was mostly like you’d had when you were human, but since you’d changed, so had it. 

You groaned, turning off your phone and putting your face in your pillow, not wanting to get out of bed. 

It’s gonna be a long week.

Perhaps you fell back asleep or just zoned out, but you weren’t quite sure. A knock on your door pulled your attention to it sometime later.

“Come in,” you mumbled loud enough for whoever it was to hear you.

Someone gingerly opened it and stepped partway inside, holding the door halfway open, “Did you want some coffee? Or, are you gonna sleep the day away?”

It was Sam, and you sighed silently, “Coffee,” you mumbled.

He came over and sat on the side of the bed, “I’m sorry about all this. We’re going to keep looking for a way to try to change you back, okay?” 

“It’s okay,” you replied somberly, rolling over to look at him.

Sam noticed how low your ears were drooping. After hours of research on cats, he learned that your ears and tail always revealed precisely how you were feeling. He had no clue how to ease the sadness you were going through, though.

“Come on. There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Sam said, giving you one of those compassionate smiles that made you smile, even if just a little.

“All right. Lemme change, and I’ll be there in a few minutes,” you replied.

He left you to change, and then you headed into the kitchen. It was past nine already, and all of them were awake. Even if you’d wanted to, you couldn’t get your ears to stop drooping or your tail to show anything other than the defeat you’d found yourself in.

After grabbing a cup of coffee, you joined the four of them in the library, making sure not to step on the symbol they’d drawn on the floor. One of the library tables had what looked like an altar with a bowl, ingredients, and candles, but you barely glanced at it. 

“You want to drink that first or summon this bitch and watch her burn?” Charlie asked, trying to help you feel better.

All you did was shrug your shoulders. You stood next to Sam and looked down into the bowl before you looked up at him and held out one of your hands. 

“If you’d rather do it-” Sam began, but you cut him off.

“Just, do it, and let's get this over with,” you told him.

He sighed, “How about you cut the hair from your tail? Then I’ll do the cut on your hand if you’d like.”

You gave him a small smile before taking the blade, cutting some of the hair from your tail, and placing it in the bowl. But when it came time to cut your hand, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it and handed Sam back the knife and looked away when he made the cut. That hurt like hell, and you hissed the moment it pierced your skin.

Balling your hand into a fist, you turned it sideways, letting the blood drain down and into the bowl, mixing with the other ingredients. Then, Dean came close and wrapped your hand in a handkerchief. 

There was something gentle about his touch and the softness in his expression, even though he never looked directly at you. His focus was on your hand and securing the handkerchief securely without hurting you.

You stood back, your gaze on the symbol on the floor, while the other four stood near each other. Sam spoke the spell in Latin. After that, he tossed a lit match into the bowl as orange smoke swirled up and through the air.

For a moment, you blinked blankly at the woman who appeared inside the symbol. She resembled the woman you saw a year and a half ago, but there were so many differences. The biggest one was that she looked far younger than she had.

“Oh, there’s the kitten I lost,” she cooed, looking over at you, and her smile again creeped you out. When her eyes met the four others, she quickly frowned, “Winchesters.”

“Turn her back,” Dean growled, and it surprised you that those were his first words to her.

The witch's expression went to utter amusement, “Can’t. Sorry. She’s stuck that way. I’m just surprised the spell didn’t fully take.”

“What? Was she supposed to turn into an actual cat?” Charlie asked sarcastically.

“Yes. Quite interesting,” the witch mused, now standing as close to the edge of the symbol as possible, looking you over. “I need to find out why the spell didn’t work, and how to fix it so you do turn into a cat. I need a loyal familiar.”

You felt sick, and her words made your skin crawl. With as close as she was, Eileen slapped a pair of cuffs on her. They’d explained that the cuffs would keep her from using any sort of magic, and it was for all of their safety.

“You’re going to undo the spell. Turn her back into a human,” Dean growled again, and you couldn’t quite figure out why he seemed so adamant all of a sudden. His tone almost felt more than just trying to help someone.

The witch just rolled her eyes, “I told you. The spell can’t be reversed. All I can do is make it so that she turns the rest of the way into a cat, and my loyal familiar. So, take these off, and I can get started.”

“Then we don’t need to keep you alive,” Eileen told her, crossing her arms.

For the moment, all you could do was stand there, lost in your thoughts at the witch’s revelation. You had enough trouble having the features and qualities of a cat that you did. You had no desire to be an actual cat, let alone the witch’s familiar. 

You didn’t hear any of the rest of the conversation between the five of them and, at this point, had backed up to one of the chairs, sitting down. With your mind racing with thoughts and too many emotions coursing through your body, it was the gunshot that made you jump. 

Looking up in just enough time to see the witch’s body hit the floor as the light faded from her eyes. Dean crouched in front of you while the others began cleaning up. He was attempting to talk to you, but you didn’t hear him. When he snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, you finally refocused on reality and looked down at him, still in a state of shock.

“You with me, Sweetheart?” he asked, slightly loudly, making sure he had your attention. You nodded, as making words wasn’t working at the moment. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t turn you back. We’ll keep looking until we can find a way.”

The sadness and despair hit you like a ton of bricks, your gaze going to your hands in your lap and away from Dean. You sniffled quietly as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Even when Dean put his hand over yours, you couldn’t look at him.

He sighed heavily, stood, kissed the top of your head, and then began helping the others with clean up. You weren’t sure how long you had sat there before you finally made your way to your room, fell into your bed, and cried yourself to sleep. You also didn’t care about much at the moment.

You’d hoped there would have been a way you could be human again and have a normal life. That hope had grown over the last month, and now, your world felt like it fell in on itself, and some darkness was going to swallow you whole. 

----------------------------------------- Chapter 3

Series Master List Part 1 Master List Part 2 Master List Past 3 Master List Main Master List

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know in a comment.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @zaratahir @jc-winchester @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never

@nancymcl @deans-spinster-witch @kindollss

[bigfan-fanfic]

Like the Real Cowboys Do (Male!Reader x Benny Lafitte x Dean Winchester)

Requested by @capturingthecountryside

Dean smirked into the mirror, checking himself out for the fifth or sixth time since getting into the cowboy getup.

The black cowboy hat sitting low on his brow, the sinfully tight black Wrangler jeans tucked into black cowboy boots, held up with a matching black belt, and his button up shirt still hanging open - he feels like a sexy outlaw or something.

Which is the whole point.

Because, while he usually enjoys the medieval themed LARPs Charlie Bradbury takes him to, she's scouted him out a western one this time.

And what's better, you and Benny Lafitte will be there - Benny began dating you after you helped out his business, and had been inseparable ever since.

And Dean had started to develop a crush on you both when he met you and saw your relationship.

You've mentioned before to Benny about how Dean is always just a little too interested in your life together, always wanting to see you both, and considered the possibility that he might want to be a part of your relationship.

Benny didn't mind too much, but said you should let Dean come to that conclusion and act on it yourself... unless an unavoidably good opportunity presented itself.

Dean knows none of this, and so, he accepted a ride from you both to the LARP grounds, deciding if he can't work up the courage, he'll just have to use his body to seduce you. Hence the graphically tight jeans and slightly-higher-than-strictly-necessary-shut-up-Sammy boots.

Benny sometimes enjoys surprising Dean, so when Dean walks to his kitchen and sees Benny there, he's somewhat surprised but not too much.

"Wow, Dean. Couldn't be bothered to button up?" you tease.

Benny chuckles before Dean can respond. "Real cowboys didn't go around all exposed like that."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Oh really, old timer? Why don't you give me a rundown?"

Benny has him on the ground instantly, taking advantage of Dean's lack of suspicion to wrestle him neatly to the floor, holding him down by the back of the neck like a scolded puppy.

"You're under arrest." Benny drawls, his Cajun accent moving west and a little south and ending up somewhere on the Texas-Arizona border. "Hand me that rope, would ya, darlin?" he smirks at you.

"Aw, come on! Unfair!" Dean whines, but he doesn't bother to struggle against Benny's adamant grip. Benny has him hogtied in under a minute, his wrists bound together and stretched back to meet his ankles, which are crossed, tied, and pulled tight back up towards his wrists.

It's a testament to Dean's own athletic ability that he can withstand his back being bowed so far that his legs and chest lift up off the floor at the strict hogtie.

"Yeah, we knew how to get a man trussed up back then." Benny winks, watching Dean finally start to writhe, though mainly ineffectually. "But we had one more step..."

Dean growls as Benny pulls his own bandana off, flicking out the tails, and tying a knot in the center of it before pulling it between Dean's teeth.

He can still talk after Benny ties it firmly in place, but his speech is thoroughly garbled.

Benny winks at you as he picks Dean up and holds him over his shoulder, his hand resting on Dean's rear, supposedly to stabilize him but clearly with an ulterior motive.

"Another thing about cowboys was that they didn't care too much about traditional ways of doin things. So why don't you and I keep this here outlaw for a while and see if he enjoys being... kept?" He smirks, and you can see Dean's head move as his eyes widen in interest.

"Sounds like a plan, Benny." you smirk, reaching up to kiss him. "But you gotta teach me how to do that with the ropes."

"Sure thing." he winks, patting Dean's ass, making the hunter yelp. "We got our own outlaw practice dummy right here."

And with that, Benny carries Dean outside, and you consider that this LARP just got a whole lot more fun.

[mishapocalyse]

OR how about Dean actually doing a whole LARP experience with Charlie on one of his days off hunting, and he convinces Cas, Sam, (and/or his gf, the reader) to go with him. He’s a cute little dork, :’) — 🧸

Dean, Your Majesty Awaits

Description: Charlie takes Castiel and the Winchesters to a Renaissance Fair. Unbeknownst to them, the reader is the queen, Charlie's best friend and Dean's significant other.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None.

Note: Under the 500 word prompt. I really really enjoyed this one!

————

“I do not understand this activity.” Castiel prompted as per usual when he did not fully comprehend what human hobby he was partaking in.

Charlie chuckled as she stood to fix his wears, adjusting the sword strapped to his hip. Dean Winchester strolled in with Sam, holding a large plate of food in which Charlie picked from to Dean’s dismay.

“Ay, get your own!” He yelled.

“Better finish that quickly, D. Show’s about to start.” Charlie clapped her hands and strode towards the opening of the tent.

—————

Charlie, The Winchester’s and Cas all stood in front of the large wooden stage shaded with a much larger red tent, decorated with gold trim and flowers of all kinds. Four men dressed from head to toe in armor stood poised in front, swords digging into the red clay mixed with dirt and wood chips.

Another man came to the front, facing the crowd as he cleared his throat, arm raising to silence the crowd of other larper’s.

“Oi! Will all of ye shut thy trap’s and face the front!” He hollered.

Charlie, glanced over at her friends who all stared back at her, giving the same expression.

“What’s up his ass?” Dean asks, Charlie nudges him to shut up.

“We are in the presence of many of warriors, but in the presence of no kings! Our king was befallen to a dark night and fell into the grasp of death leaving our widowed Queen to rule alone. We fight for her hand and rightful place by her side! Who will succeed? Who will only perish on this day? Go! Ready your men as we will strike soon!” Bellows the man dressed in the royal colors.

Music plays as everyone murmurs while the sea of people separate. Dean’s eyes widen as he laid his gaze onto you, his girlfriend, dressed in royal garb.

“Is that?”

“Yes, Dean. This is why I dragged you here.” Charlie answered.

Your eyes caught his as he pushed through the people to get to you. He was blocked by the knights.

“Speak thy name, filthy mudsnipe. What says you to even dare to whisper to thy Queen?” The knights question Dean who rolled his eyes.

Another man approaches and stands in front of the guards.

“Hey buddy. You can’t just walk up to the Queen. You know the rules. Besides, its our team that’s going to win.” He sneers.

Dean opens his mouth to say something when you pushed the knights aside.

“He is my secretary, the right hand man to my royal round table. He and his men may enter my quarters.

“But they-i.”

“Nothing more-let them pass.” You ordered.

————

Dean still partook in the fighting, you watched him wack people out of the way. Charlie ate from the food table, free for you and your men to eat. By the end, Dean and Charlie’s team did in fact lose when Dean was the only one still around. A whole team had to be left to even decide.

It was time to choose the man and team that would run beside you for the next season. Sighing you slipped open the envelope while wandering eyes stared up at you on your throne.

The envelope did indeed read the White Raven Clan, and the leading man who heckled your boyfriend earlier. You looked over at the leader who ogled you from a distance. Then back to Dean who leaned against the railing a bruise forming on his face, a little blood from his nose from playing around too hard with everyone.

You knew you shouldn’t do this, but you were the one who ran the events in your community, and by far this was Dean’s second one and the first one that you and him had been together at.

So why not bend the rules a bit?

You threw the envelope into the fire pit that sat next to you turning chicken and stood up abruptly.

“You, the single man who stands in front of me. The lone warrior who single-handedly fought alone in the end. I hereby decree that you shall continue to stand by my side, not only as my right hand, nor my secretary, but my King and betrothed, brave sir.” You holler as a fury of claps and hoots sounded. You exited the stage shortly after they crowned Dean.

“Hey, where’d Y/N go?” He asked Charlie who smiled.

“Dean, your Majesty waits for you in her private quarters. Give her hell.” She laughs, slapping him on the back, his crown slightly tilting down.

“I love this place.”

[peanutbutterjelly-pie]

Stupid

Rating: Gen Word Count: 4k

Since he forgot his phone at work Dean borrows Charlie's cell to send Cas a quick message. What follows turns his world upside down. (In which Cas thinks he's talking with Charlie and reveals way more about his true feelings than Dean is able to handle.)

[ao3]

Dean loves Fridays.

For one, his work day already ends around 2 PM. Granted, Dean adores his job and actually walks into his office with a big smile on his face most of the time. Which is kinda ironic since he's never in his wildest dream would've ever pictured himself using his engineering degree to design new airplanes and enjoying every second of it, not with him still being fiercely against flying as a concept in on itself and not keen at all on putting any of his designs to the test for real (FUCK NO!!). It's quite a running joke in the office, of course, and Dean laughs along to his colleagues teasing him about it, but at the same time he's dead serious about it.

So yes, creating new and improved airplanes? Dean is so down for this. Flying those things afterwards? NO WAY IN FREAKING HELL!!!

Either way, his Fridays at work are short and instead of heading back home into his cozy, little apartment he always throws himself into his beloved Impala and drives into the complete opposite direction.

To Charlie's place.

They had met in college about ten years ago and more or less bonded right away over their love for Star Trek. Soon enough they had found even more things in common and before Dean even knew it he traveled to LARP events, called himself Charlie's handmaiden, and started to see her as the sister he never really wanted, but somehow didn't mind having anyway.

Them meeting up every Friday for video games and movie marathons is a thing that began basically since Dean's been working at his current job straight out of college.

Dean's always eager to make time for friends and family, even with a full-time job, so he made this a tradition and refused to budge on the matter. Thankfully Charlie has been equally enthusiastic and as a freelancer who earns a shit ton of money by helping companies with their IT stuff or whatever (Dean is still not really sure what she even does), she is able to fill her schedule the way she likes it.

She has been keeping her Fridays free ever since.

Today is not any different.

Dean drove straight to her after work and has been at her place ever since. They've been watching a couple of episodes of Firefly while eating unhealthy snacks before switching over to video games. Dean hadn't had any consoles growing up, so it took him a while to get the hang of it when Charlie introduced him to it, but eventually he became quite good. At least good enough to beat Charlie's ass from time to time.

It's easy fun with lots of interactions and yelling and whooping and both Dean and Charlie have a tendency to completely forget the outside world when they're sucked into a specific game.

This time they're both so engrossed with chasing their Super Mario characters over some rainbow bridges in their colorful race cars that the hours pass by unnoticed.

When Dean eventually, after a devastating loss which makes him groan unattractively, glimpses at the surprisingly analog clock at the wall he ends up flinching in surprise at the lateness of the evening.

“Shit!” he exclaims, looking at the small hand already having passed the seven. “Why is it so late already?”

Charlie looks up as well and seems equally astonished by the passage of time. “Huh, I didn't notice.”

Dean grumbles and quickly leans back to fish his phone out of his pocket – only to discover that there is nothing to be found.

He blinks in confusion for a few seconds before realization hits him and he moans once again. “Oh fuck, I left my phone in the office!”

He recalls vividly how it had been lying on his table and he urged himself over and over to pack it before leaving. He basically had been reaching for it already. And then one of the other engineers showed up with an important issue and Dean found himself so distracted by it all that anything else slipped his mind. By the end of it he was so eager to call it a day and rush over to Charlie's place that he just grabbed his jacket and headed out of there before anyone else might have intercepted him with yet another problem.

“Sucks to be you,” Charlie chuckles while Dean merely rolls his eyes and wonders whether he should ride back to the office for his phone either today or at least tomorrow by the latest or whether he should just leave it there for the whole weekend.

Either way, that doesn't change the fact right now that it's entirely too late already.

“I need to call Cas,” Dean says, gritting his teeth.

Because see, this is yet another reason why he loves Fridays so much: Cas.

Best friends since Dean moved with his family into the house across from Cas' about twenty years ago they always made sure to stay in each other's lives. Granted, from the outside they look like they have nothing much in common and if Dean is being honest with himself he's not sure they would've even been on one another's' radars at all if it wouldn't have been for that one boring summer when Dean had been new in town at fourteen years old and didn't know a soul around and eventually found himself fixating on the blue-eyed neighbor since there was literally nobody else his age around to hang out with.

And yeah, Dean questioned his choice the first few weeks, Cas so odd and awkward and like no one Dean has ever met before, he certainly had no clue how to deal with that. But somehow Cas wormed himself into Dean's heart with his dorky weirdness and in the grand scheme of things Dean couldn't be happier about it.

So they stayed close, even when they eventually went to different colleges so far away from each other that they merely managed to see one another once or twice a year. In the end, though, they both came back into their hometowns and settled down there, Dean with his engineering job and neat loft apartment and Cas with his teaching position at the local university and him inheriting his old childhood home after his parents decided to move into a warmer climate.

Dean had been over the moon seeing them both back at the same location and he was determined from the start to meet up as often as possible, despite their time-demanding jobs. So of course after Fridays became a thing with Charlie, Dean couldn't help but incorporate Cas into that as well. Because why not make that day absolutely perfect, right?

And since his mom always invites her sons to brunch Saturday mornings and Cas technically lives right across from her, it became a tradition for Dean to crash at Cas' place and then on the next day go to his mom's, usually with Cas in tow because at this point in her life Mary considers him her third kid anyway.

So yeah, it's a date every single Friday for many years now.

And right now Dean is on the brink of being too late and the last thing he wants is for Cas to worry about his whereabouts.

“Can I borrow your phone?” Dean asks Charlie. “I need to call Cas.”

Charlie hands him her cell without a moment of hesitation and says, “Better send him a text. He might still be on his way back home.”

Right.

Contrary to Dean and Charlie, Cas always uses his Friday afternoons to catch up on his work. “To not be greeted by a mountain of paperwork first thing Monday morning, Dean,” Cas is never shy to explain.

Dean can't help a little smile as he hears Cas' voice in his head.

He catches himself at the last second, though, before his face might get too gooey or something, and he quickly opens Cas' number, vigorously ignoring his text chain with Charlie (which doesn't seem overly excessive anyway because for some unfathomable reason those two actually enjoy talking to each other on the phone, like a pair of old people), and hurries to type his message.

< hey how's it hanging?

And then Dean accidentally hits send.

He growls in frustration. “Charlie!” he complains. “Your phone is all wrong!”

Charlie huffs. “Only because you're a dinosaur and you're only used to your ancient phone doesn't mean mine has done anything wrong ever in its life. You just have to be a little bit more delicate.”

Dean rolls his eyes, eager to give her a piece of his mind, when suddenly the phone vibrates, indicating an incoming message. Looks like Cas is already home or at least at a safe location to text back immediately.

> I know why you're texting all of a sudden. And you don't have to bother, I won't change my feelings on the matter.

Dean just has time to wrinkle his forehead in confusion when another text arrives.

> Dean doesn't need to know.

Dean's eyes widen, for a moment too stunned to do anything.

And then he instantly finds himself torn.

It's obvious Cas thinks he's talking with Charlie (and why shouldn't he? It's Charlie's number after all) and Dean should hurry to explain the situation and stop Cas before anything else might happen.

He seriously should.

But then he ends up thinking back on Cas' behavior recently. For the last few weeks he has been downright weird whenever Dean was around (weirder than usual, that is) and Dean has been wrecking his brain for a while now what the hell might have happened that made their dynamic shift in such a way. It's not glaringly obvious or anything, at least nobody from the outside has commented on it so far, but Dean certainly noticed Cas keeping his distance.

Dean has no idea whether he did something wrong or whether something just came up and he is taking the brunt of it and he has been dying to find out ever since.

And now it's apparently offered to him on a silver platter.

Still, Dean really should do the right thing …

He seriously should.

But before his conscience is able to catch up with him his fingers already start typing.

< what do u mean?

And he leaves it with that.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, hating himself a little bit. Who even does this to a friend in the first place?

Damn.

Yeah, no, he needs to clear up the situation right here and now –

That is when another text arrives and Dean is too weak not to look at it.

> Don't play cute with me, Charlie. I have told you before, Dean doesn't need to know about my feelings for him. Things are good between us, I don't want to ruin that.

Dean blinks.

And blinks some more.

Wait, what?

WHAT?

Dean's heart stops for a couple of seconds, picks up one hell of a pace after that, only to pump the brakes yet again so hard he gets actually dizzy from it.

Because Cas … he can't mean what Dean thinks he means, right?

RIGHT?

Dean feels himself freaking out, his breathing becoming labored as his heart continues to go crazy within his chest. For a long moment up is down and down is up.

Only when Charlie nudges his shoulder, seemingly worried by the expression on Dean's features, Dean gets jolted back into reality. He startles at first, feeling like a newborn deer trying to make sense of the new environment, before he manages to catch himself somehow.

And he doesn't wait around to shove the phone right into Charlie's face and exclaim, “What the hell is that?”

Charlie is, of course, highly confused by Dean's question and just frowns at him.

So Dean grits his teeth and gestures at the text conversation with Cas, urging her to read it. Which she dutifully does the next second.

And then her eyes widen as she mutters underneath her breath, “Shit.”

Dean huffs. “What the fuck is he talking about, Charlie?”

He doesn't expect a straight answer right away.

Damn, he doesn't even expect any kind of answer at all.

So he leans back and watches as Charlie starts to splutter and flail her arms around in every single direction and make the most unintelligible noises not even the most experienced linguist would have been able to decipher. She is clearly caught off guard in the most major manner and can't for the hell of it find a graceful way out of it. At least not quick enough to not be absolutely pathetic.

“Charlie,” Dean eventually cuts into her incoherent rambling, not in the mood to be witness to this for the rest of the night. “Just get a grip and tell me the truth!”

Charlie shakes her head and nods at the same time. So fiercely, in fact, that Dean for a moment gets actually worried that her neck would break in half by the sheer force of it.

“It's – um, it's nothing, man,” she says in the end, way over the top. “Just … uuuuuhhhhh, just some inside joke Cas and I have …”

Dean rolls his eyes at that. “Right,” he replies, the opposite of convinced. “So when Cas says he's got feelings for me …”

Charlie makes a noise that is probably supposed to be a dismissive snort. “Just – y'know – I mean – it's just …” Her gaze flickers anywhere but near Dean. “I mean, um … everyone has feelings about everyone, right? … I mean, I totally have all the platonic feelings for you, for example, you know? …”

Dean arches his brows skeptically. “So you're saying Cas has platonic feelings for me?”

Charlie perks up at those words. “Yes!” she agrees, far too enthusiastically for it to be convincing in the least. “Yes, that's what I'm saying!”

Dean scoffs. “And why would he make a big state secret out of it?”

Charlie pulls a face. “I mean, you know how he is … he is weird sometimes …”

Dean groans before pushing himself to his feet, not eager to listen to any more of her excuses. “I've gotta go talk to Cas!”

He hears Charlie voice some sort of protest, but Dean just grabs his jacket and is out of the door before she's able to stop him.

---

It takes about fifteen minutes to get to Cas' place.

And Dean's head is spinning so hard the whole drive there he is actually surprised that he doesn't end up in a ditch somewhere.

But what is he supposed to think after that text message?

Yeah, Dean highly doubts Cas would be so cagey about platonic feelings of all things, but at the same time Dean can't allow himself to imagine the alternative.

Because that would break him.

Because Cas actually admitting to having Feelings for Dean, the capital letter kind, sounds like so fucking much.

After all it would mean …

It would mean that Dean has been pining in secret for ages even though his feelings haven been reciprocated the whole freaking time?

Yeah, Dean can't even remember anymore when it started. It's probably been a gradual process that began a long time ago. Dean dated people and it was always okay, you know, but it wasn't it. It never felt like all those love songs made him believe it would be. At some point he even assumed that it just was something that didn't really exist. That people merely found other people they were compatible with and that was all the magic out there.

It only made sense all of a sudden when he admitted to himself about a year ago that he was head-over-heels for Cas.

There was no specific event or anything, but around that time it had been half an eternity that Dean had so much as a date with another person because nobody seemed to light even the tiniest spark within him. It only had gotten harder and harder, so eventually Dean just stopped looking.

And then he was sitting on the couch with Cas and Cas was arguing with the History Channel about something and Dean just watched him with a besotted smile on his face and thought, I want this for the rest of my life.

What followed was many weeks and months of doubt and uncertainty, but when he ultimately took the final step and was honest with himself it was suddenly easy enough to see that Cas has been it for a very long while for Dean.

But at the same time Dean was afraid to say something. Cas has never been much for dating and romance and his best friend out of the blue confessing his love might have freaked him out big time. Dean always pictured Cas withdrawing more and more until one day they wouldn't have been in each other's lives anymore.

And that – that would have been absolutely devastating.

So Dean kept his mouth shut and instead enjoyed all the things they had. While pushing thoughts of maybe scooting a bit closer and holding Cas' hand or even kissing him out of his mind.

Dean learned to live with it.

But now?

If this is really true …

If Cas feels the same way and he's just been as scared to ruin their friendship as Dean was …

Dean isn't sure he knows how to handle the possibility.

---

Dean senses both dread and elation when he parks Baby on his usual spot right behind Cas' ugly pimp mobile and he takes a minute or two of deeply inhaling and exhaling before he's got the courage to step outside and walk up to the front door.

Where Cas apparently has already been waiting as he swings the door open as Dean is just lifting his arm to knock.

As always he is stupidly gorgeous, with his piercing blue eyes, his unruly hair, and his comfy sweatpants which have become a staple for their Friday nights together.

Next to all that, however, Cas also looks mad as hell.

“How dare you pretend to be someone else to lure information out of me?” he growls so deeply a shiver runs down Dean's spine and it's only partially out of fear. “What were you even thinking?”

Looks like Charlie didn't wait around to call Cas and give him a heads-up about the situation.

Figures.

Dean just scoffs into Cas' face and pushes past him into the house. Cas makes a disgruntled noise at his friend's behavior, but closes the door behind them, obviously not eager for the whole neighborhood to be witness to this.

“You have no right to be pissed at me!” Dean hisses back the second the door is shut and sealed.

Cas seems far from impressed when faced with such logic. “You are the one who betrayed my trust!”

“I didn't betray anything!” Dean is quick to make himself clear. “I just forgot my phone at the office and borrowed Charlie's to tell you I'd be late. And 'coz I'm not used to her super modern thingy I accidentally sent you a text before I could say it's me. Easy as that.”

Cas raises his brows. “You could have clarified yourself simple enough the second time.”

Dean chews on his bottom lip, his emotions spilling all over the place as he tries to stare Cas down and at the same time not get lost in his eyes. Because he has a tendency to do just that. Since basically forever.

“I could have,” Dean concedes since Cas did make a good point. “But I didn't.”

“So why –?”

“'Coz you've been weird lately,” Dean cuts in harshly. “You've been fucking avoiding me and that's certainly a skill considering we were always in the same room for that. You don't sit with me on the couch anymore, you flinch whenever I touch you …” Dean sighs. “Fuck, I was wondering the whole time what I did wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Cas is quick to come to his defense. Only to add a moment later, “Well, apart from right now where you pretended to be Charlie –”

Dean waves him off. “Yeah, so? I was desperate for some info, sue me.”

“I don't think suing you over this would have much standing in court –”

“Oh jeez, man!” Dean interrupts once more. “See, you're doing it again. Avoiding the subject of us while being in the same room. Can you really blame me for grasping at straws at this point?”

Cas falls silent after that, Dean's question clearly hitting a nerve.

“I'm just …” Dean shakes his head in exasperation. “I just wanted some friggin' answers, that's all.”

Cas pinches his face as he slowly studies Dean and takes his time wrapping his head around the whole mess.

In the end he just straightens his back and says, “Fine.”

Dean assesses the guy warily. “Fine?”

“Yes, fine,” Cas states. Without looking anywhere but Dean's eyes. “Let's forget about it and watch one of your cowboy movies –”

Dean's blood starts to boil again.

“I don't wanna watch a cowboy movie!” he snaps, barely believing such words are actually leaving his mouth. “I wanna talk about this!”

Cas looks at him as though he seriously considers that Dean has been swapped by a clone.

“You?” he asks incredulously. “Want to talk?”

Dean rolls his eyes extra hard. “I talk about stuff,” he grumbles. “Only because I choose when and where doesn't mean I'm a repressed idiot –”

“I didn't say that!” Cas leaps in to make himself clear. “I would never say that.”

Dean knows that Cas never would.

And that's one of many reasons why he is one of Dean's favorite persons on the whole planet.

“I'm just …” Dean sighs, suddenly feeling so vulnerable and raw he has no clue what to do with it. “What does feelings mean, Cas?”

Cas' mouth snaps shut immediately.

It's obvious he's not keen on pouring out his soul just yet.

Dean rubs the palm of his hand. over his mouth. “Dude, if you're seriously worried that what you're going to say might ruin anything, it won't!”

Cas shoots him a disbelieving glance, not buying it at all.

“I'm serious!” Dean insists. “Nothing can ruin our friendship!”

Cas lets out a hollow laugh and it actually sounds so awful that Dean wants to grab it out of thin air and punch it in the face.

“Of course,” Cas says sarcastically. “What if I told you I'm a serial killer who has murdered twenty-seven people?”

Dean squints his eyes.

“That's an oddly specific number,” he can't help but point out. “But yeah, I'd help you bury the freaking bodies.”

Cas shakes his head. “Dean …”

“I would,” Dean insists. “I mean, yeah, sure, I probably also would put you under strict house arrest and get you the best shrink in town, but I also would be your alibi 'coz this is what friends do.”

Cas grimaces. “I don't think covering up murders is –”

“Okay, forget it!” Dean cuts in, not in the mood to drag this example along any further. “I'm just saying, you're my best friend and nothing can change that, okay?”

Cas' features soften at that.

He looks at Dean, really looks at him, what feels like the first time in forever, and there are suddenly so many emotions displayed on his face Dean has never spotted before. They seem meaningful and heavy and Dean's heart picks up its pace again at the sight of it.

Is this really it?

“Cas,” Dean whispers, his expression right now most likely equal to Cas'. “What does feelings mean?”

Cas sighs.

Shakes his head.

And then he breathes, “It means I'm stupid …”

The way he's saying it, the manner his voice trembles … this is so much more than meets the eye.

And Dean can't have him believe for even a second longer that he is the only one standing in the corner.

So he shoots back, “Well, then I'm stupid too.”

Cas frowns at first, clearly not able to comprehend it properly.

But then their eyes meet again and Dean tries to broadcast it all out there, tries to make Cas see, dammit.

Cas gasps just a moment later.

Looks like he's getting it.

“Dean …” he mutters.

And Dean could give a grand speech about how he's crazy for this dork and probably always has been, but somehow his throat feels way too tight all of sudden and he highly doubts he will get any coherent sentences out of there.

So he does the next best thing because at the end of the day Dean has always been better with actions instead of words anyway.

He grabs Cas by his shirt and yanks him impossibly close.

Their chests collide and Cas' eyes are wide and shocked and hopeful all at once as their faces find themselves mere inches apart. Dean's attention immediately flickers to those plush lips he's been fantasizing about for far too long and everything inside of him urges him to go for it, but he waits nonetheless, waits patiently for a sign from Cas that this is okay, that this is what he wants too …

Cas leans in the very next second and Dean stops thinking.

When their lips meet Dean feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

The kiss starts sweet and innocent, some light pressure and nothing more, but then Cas wraps his arms around Dean's torso and aligns their bodies even more and Dean makes a pathetic little noise in the back of his throat before deepening the kiss. He gets lightheaded very fast and only Cas holding him so tightly keeps his knees from buckling in the most embarrassing manner.

Dean never thought it would feel like this. He originally assumed that it would be a bit weird to kiss someone he had known for such a long time. That it would be awkward all around and they would have to get used to the sensation at first before being able to enjoy it thoroughly.

Boy, he's never been more wrong in his life.

Dean is all warm and fuzzy and when the kiss turns even more passionate a moment later his body temperature rises right along with it. Dean moans as hands are roaming over bodies, Cas getting lost in Dean's hair while Dean can't get enough of the guy's ridiculously sharp hipbones, and soon enough Cas is pressed against the wall and Dean is only seconds away from taking things even further.

They've waited long enough after all.

But just as Dean is pushing his fingers underneath Cas' shirt, Cas slows down and eventually breaks to kiss. He draws back a little to gaze right into Dean's eyes and he looks so debauched and wrecked it takes Dean's breath away.

And then Cas whispers, “In case it wasn't clear earlier, I love you,” and Dean's breath is taken away from him in a completely different, yet no less powerful manner.

He feels himself melting into Cas until he buries his face into the guy's neck. It's warm and it smells really nice and Dean can't help smiling into Cas' skin.

“I love you too,” he rasps back. “I've been crazy about you since forever.”

Cas sighs as he lifts his arm to card his fingers through Dean's hair again. “Me too. I never dared to acknowledge it, though. I feared too much that things would change in a way I wouldn't be able to bear.” He drops a light kiss against Dean's temple. “But then Charlie found out about it and she has been pestering me for weeks to tell you and it got me all riled up …”

No wonder Cas has been behaving so oddly recently. He clearly had no idea what to do.

Dean actually shares the sentiment. He's pretty sure he wouldn't have acted any differently if their roles would have been reversed.

“Well,” Dean whispers, “I guess it all worked out in the end.”

“Because you forgot your phone at the office.”

Dean grins. “I'm sure we would've figured it out eventually. But yeah, me being a forgetful idiot sure helped.”

Cas just hums before he pulls Dean deeper into his embrace and Dean can't help but think that this might very well be the best moment of his entire life, hands down.

---

The next day when they both walk over to Dean's mom for their weekly Saturday brunch Dean introduces Cas as his boyfriend to his whole family and he manages to only blush a little as he does so.

Nobody seems surprised about their new relationship status in the slightest.

And two years later, when they exchange their wedding vows, Cas stares deeply into Dean's soul and says tearfully, “I'm stupid,” and of course Dean has to answer that with a wobbly, “I'm stupid too,” and Sam yells from somewhere in the background, “You're both stupid alright!”

It's perfect.

[chipjrwibignaturals]

this sucks ASS why am i genuinely so invested in Leo and Gegg’s friendship like Charlie is LARPING !!!!

[desire-mona]

things i laughed really hard at while watching dps (very) high:

- todd being like "wtf wait do i stand" during the opening scene

- the bagpipes during the opening scene (?)

- how big neils eyebrows are

- "heard you got the new guy. LOOKS LIKE A STIFF! oops"

- my friend (having not seen the movie before) yelling KILL YOURSELF!!!!!!! at mr perry

- keating just. walking in, whistling, and walking out

- meeks' face at sniffles when he blows his fuck ass nose IN HIS FACE

- cam's face when keatings larping ghosts

- the shot lingering on neil when keatings like you guys are LITERALLY GONNA DIE

- knox calling chris mrs danbury

- the fact that neil was so entranced by this weird teacher that he found his photo in a yearbook without knowing his age or his graduating year

- "i'll try anything once" "except sex!"

- mittsie passing off the most obvious radio to ever radio as just. a satellite

- the fact that the first super rebellious dps meeting was just eating snacks in a cave and reading Some poetry

- cam man door hand hook car door

- how gay meeks and pitts are

- how gay neil and todd are

- charlie bringing a porno mag with tits that are far too big for that poor woman's back

- WHERE DID YOU GET THAT??

- neil not at all wanting to look at said porno mag (gay)

- the entire concept of reading poetry then. kicking a ball

- todd glomping neil (gay)

- the boys lifting keating into the air because if i was him id be like WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCKKKK STOP PUT ME DOWN

- neil like. yipping at todd????? insane and queer of him

- how terrible knox is at being at a party

- how terrible everyone else is at talking to women

- i might go to yale. but i might not

- neil in the play! he's just funny!

- neil's dad's eyebrows (sorry kurtwood smith)

- slow motion NOOOOOOOOOO upon discovering neil's body (was also sobbing)

- how fucking SWEATY todd was when signing the paper to fire keating

also feel the need to note: the entire last hour i was crying hysterically because while yes everything is funny while high, anything remotely sad is elevated exponentially

watching dps for fun since i dont have any classes today and i got really high before watching it and it is so funny lol

[crackdkettle]

Canon versions of Supernatural characters as undergrad professors

Dean: Acts like he hates his students but is everyone’s favorite. Hilarious but you’re not sure if you’re allowed to laugh. Lectures are fun, interesting, and informative, but you have to decode his pop culture references and you will drop a whole letter grade if you say anything even vaguely disparaging about Led Zeppelin (or, god forbid, don’t know who/what Led Zeppelin is). Believes in hands-on learning, so there’s a lot of in-class activities. Not approachable in the least, but very understanding and willing to help anyone who has the guts to ask. Casually drops the most insane details from his life and moves on; refuses to elaborate when questioned (also there’s no way he could have done all the stuff he’s claimed he has when he’s still this young?). Could have a knife stuck in his chest and would still come to class, but will get one text from his husband or kid and end class forty minutes early. Exams are challenging but easy enough if you attend class and take decent notes.

Sam: Not an easy A, but not a difficult one either. Definitely a case of “you get out what you put in”. Happy to grant extensions on projects, but you basically have to have a therapy session with him in exchange. Interesting if you already like the subject, but probably won’t get you interested if you don’t. Seems about as normal as any academic but at least once a week will say something completely out of left field and act like it’s not the craziest thought anyone’s ever had.

Charlie: Spends the first class showing you how to pirate all your textbooks. Super fun, but don’t make the mistake of thinking that means she’s a pushover. Uses Lego action figures to reenact ancient myths, and offers extra credit for LARPing. Adopts any and all baby queers. In lieu of a final exam, the whole class has to do a dramatic reading of Lysistrata in the school’s amphitheater wearing chitons she taught you to make earlier in the semester to an audience comprised solely of her and her best friend.

Rowena: Terrifying in lower-division classes; fun and chill in upper-division classes. Doesn’t tolerate insolence in lower-division; loves when you challenge her in upper-division. Genuinely wants to help you learn. Rewards ass-kissing but rewards effort more.  Reassures you when you mess up that you can never be as good as her anyway. Invites your 400 class over for dinner and makes a joke about the food being poisoned in a way that makes you feel like maybe she’s not joking? Possibly having an affair with the dean. Heavily attended office hours.

Crowley: Genuinely hates his students (except for the elite few he likes), but a weirdly forgiving grader. Very easy to distract and get off on a tangent. You probably won’t learn much but you will have a good time. Exams are either a cake walk or downright impossible. In a feud with the dean.

Bobby: Both the most knowledgeable and the wisest person you’ve ever met. You want to record all his lectures and then transcribe them because every single thing he says is the most profound thing you’ve ever heard. Sincerely wants you to succeed. Everyone wants him as their advisor. Never assigns essays in his GE classes because “the students don’t like writing them, and more importantly, I don’t like reading them.” In a feud with the dean, and extremely smug in the knowledge that the dean can’t do jackshit to him because he’s tenured.

Castiel: All his lectures are either insultingly elementary and broad or doctorate-level technical and specific. No patience for stupid questions. Constantly refutes things in the textbooks but refuses to cite his sources beyond “I was there” (when writing was invented??). Cancels class at least once a week “due to a family emergency”, but then you run into him at the local arcade with his husband and/or son. Never returns homework and seems put upon/confused when you ask about it (usually says something like, “Human markers of academic success are meaningless,” and just squints at you if you ask what he’s doing in academia then). In a feud with the dean, the provost, and the university president. Essay-only exams. Rumor is he’s never given anyone an A.

[jumblejen]

Reaching Out

Suptober21 Day 6: Cemetery Boys

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34330948

“Did I ever tell you about the fan convention thingy? With Chuck and Becky? And the ghosts of those little boys?”

“I don’t think so, Dean.”

“You remember the Supernatural books?”

“Yes, the Winchester Gospels.”

“Whatever. Anyway, Becky that squirrely superfan that married Sam? Well she decided to hold a fan convention for the books. This was after Lucifer was free but before Sam went to hell. And then she used Chuck’s phone to get us to come, made us think it was a case.”

“That must have been surprising when it wasn’t.”

“Yeah it was��� something else. Somehow not nearly as disturbing as the musical though.”

“Oh yes. I liked the musical.”

“You weren’t even there!”

“No, but Sam told me about it. And I might have had Charlie scour the internet for a recording.”

“You what?!”

“The songs were very catchy. And I thought their Castiel did an excellent job.”

“That’s our lives. That’s not the point. You know what, never mind.”

“Sorry Dean.”

“So anyway, there wasn’t a case but we stuck around because Chuck asked us to. This was before he was God. Or at least before we knew he was God. And then there was a case.”

“What kind?”

“Ghosts. Ghosts of some little boys and their babysitter or whatever. Ended up having some pretty close calls. We thought it was the babysitter who was the evil one but she was keeping the sadistic kid ghosts in check. Was a whole thing.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Yeah well…”

“What?”

“I just keep thinking.”

“About what?”

“About the boys in the cemetery.”

“The dead boys?”

“No, not them.”

“What boys are you talking about then?”

“There were these boys. Guys. Whatever. They helped Sam and me get the ghosts. They were larping as me and Sam and they really saved our bacon. I talked to them the day after it all went down.”

“About what?”

“Tryin’ to convince them that Sam and me were the real Sam and Dean. Don’t think they believed me though.”

“So you’re thinking about two men who helped out on a case more than ten years ago because they didn’t believe you were you?”

“No. I mean, not really. That’s not what I keep thinking about.”

“What are you thinking about then?”

“Well they were together. As a couple. And they met because of the Supernatural books. And the fact that they were together as Sam and me was weird and gave me the heebie-jeebies. But…”

“But what?”

“I keep thinking about how sweet they were. That next morning. I mean they were clearly friends when they were in the cemetery the first time with us. Friends and super not used to the idea that ghosts could be really real. And then after we got trapped in the place they managed to dig the dead boys up and send them on their way and no way we woulda survived very long without them.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know. I guess I just keep thinking of how they were always in it together. Like they did the larping thing and they were dating or whatever. They saved us together.”

“Do you know what happened to them?”

“Nah.”

“Do you wish you did?”

“I don’t know man. It’s just… I was so surprised when they said they were together…”

“And now?”

“Now I wish I could say sorry. Or thank you? I mean I did thank them for stepping up. But just. I want to say thank you.”

“You could try to get Sam to search.”

“Nah. I don’t remember their names. Or where they were from.”

“Do you want to say it out loud anyway? As if they were here?”

“What, like praying?”

“No. Or maybe yes. Maybe you just need to say it out loud.”

“Not very good at that.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah yeah. I deserved that.”

“Yes you did.”

“Though you aren’t great at it either.”

“I was an angel. I had to learn how to be human. What’s your excuse?”

“A shitty upbringing? Coupled with living in a patriarchal society that punishes men for expressing their needs and feelings?”

“You’ve been talking with Claire.”

“Your point?”

“You’ve been listening to Claire.”

“You don’t have to make it sound so impossible.”

“It surprised me.”

“We talk all the time!”

“You talk smack all the time.”

“’Talk smack’?”

“Did I use that wrong?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean you should say it.”

“Okay.”

“What would I say? To the air or whatever.”

“Say what you want to express to the men who caught you off guard by being homosexual.”

“You know I had issues.”

“How badly did you panic?”

“I did not panic at all. I may have made it a little awkward.”

“So what would you want to say. To make it not awkward in your head anymore?”

“I… I don’t know. I mean I know, but I don’t know how to say it.”

“Would it hurt to try?”

“It might.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I think it’s the kind of hurt that might help.”

“Okay.”

“Well, here goes. Dear guys who larped as Sam and me and were a gay couple. A lot’s happened since I met you. Thanks again for ganking those ghosts in the cemetery. Saved our asses. Which we covered the next day. Sorry about being weird with you. To you. Whatever. After you said you were together. I didn’t really know how to process that because you were larping as me and my brother and that part still skeeves me out. But also, I didn’t know how to see you be that open and together. I didn’t know you could be a gay couple and just be that. Though obviously you could. I guess. I mean, it’s great for you. No that’s not what I mean, I mean it is great for you. To…to have someone. I just didn’t know how to live where people could see me. And to see you…made me have to think about a bunch of stuff I wasn’t really ready to look closely at. In my own heart. But I think about you, and I think about how good you were together. So, uh, anyway. I hope you’re still happy. And together and stuff. And like I said. Thanks.”

“How did that feel?”

“It felt…it felt okay.”

“Then I’m glad you did it.”

“Me too… Hey Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Do you think it’d be weird to, you know, maybe try to find them?”

“What if they aren’t together? Or…”

“Dead? Yeah, that would be hard. But maybe that’s not what’s important.”

“Then what is important?”

“I was so thrown by the gay thing I didn’t really think about the fact that these dudes now knew that ghosts were real and they only had each other. I shoulda given them my number or looked out for them. Or something. So maybe…maybe I should try to find them. And if they’re still alive. Maybe I can…maybe we can help them. Or whatever.”

“I think that’s a great idea Dean.”

“You do?”

“I do. Come on. Let’s get some sleep. We can talk with Sam in the morning and figure out how to start the search.”

“Thanks Cas. Love you.”

“Love you too Dean. Good night.”

“Night.”

[shallowseeker]

Best of laser tag shenanigans

@mixtpecas - #MARY AND CAS#they were both raised in serious/soldier-like environments with a deep-seated want to fit in#so a game where they can use their athelticism + strategy skills AND prove that they are Fun = perfect#txt If they team up, it's a nightmare.

///

@greywrenn - #dean is at the beginning#he's got code names for everyone#he's ready to destroy timmy's 13 birthday party#(in good fun)#lots of trash talk#but once the game starts#cas absolutely annihilates everyone#has absolute staredown with that pain in the ass kid dylan from timmy's birthday party#dylan practically craps his pants#dean has to hustle cas outside before timmy's parents make waves

DEAN HAS CODENAMES FOR EVERYONE YEESSSSS

/// @sprotteslaettberg - #hear me out. mary.#i think people are looking over her like she's a mother who would let someone win but no. absolutely not#that woman is even more competetive than both her sons combined and i'm pretty sure she's even kick jack out of the way to win#cas on the other hand. cas would absolutely let jack win Well. Cas did appear to let Jack win at Connect Four, so I'd say it's a safe bet Jack has a special advantage here. >>>

ME: #prev#omg teaming up with jack is like the world's BEST trump card to neutralize the threat of cas#GENIUS#but omg the thought of mary steamrolling jack is peak comedy to meReblogView post

///

@angelsdean - #voted cas bc mr. strategic warrior for a millennia#but i agree with prev it could be any of them besides sam#i think cas just gets Really invested in the tactics and making plans#dean of course goes along with it#mary i think would also be on board with cas's calculated attacks#jack is over-eager but also really wants to Win#dean is great at coming up with stuff on the fly and has good intuition and can easily predict his opponents moves#sam as we all know is mr. impulse. never made a plan in his life#he gets taken out quick jdkgfdgjk#polls

I love all of these. I can see Cas getting over-serious based on who's playing. And I think Mary would be brutal!

///

@jesterofalltrades -

#Dean#he loves playing pretend#give him a game and suddenly he’s experiencing the childhood he never had

Omg, yes. That puts a fun point in the "Dean has codenames for everyone" category.

///

@souporsaladnatural - #cas#he doesnt care much about it at first but once he gets the hang of it its so joverReblogView post

Yeah, I can also see him playing dumb at first, then going in for the a purposeful feint and kill.

///

@hms-tardimpala - #Dean#because have you seen him LARPing#and Cas because he's a man on a mission#spn

YESSSSS. He was super into that game. The way he just slipped into it and started moving Charlie's strategy figures around--!

///

@ilarual - #the correct answer is anyone on this list besides Sam

And Sam wants to be good at nerdy big-brained stuff like Jeopardy and Trivial Pursuit, but I actually see him as more of a reckless "paintball" kinda guy.

///

@scoobydoodean - #cas and mary#both sore losers

The longer the game goes on, the more cut-throat they become.

[deanwanddamons]

GIF Drabble Masterlist

Here is the masterlist for all the drabbles I am writing from you guys sending me in gifs. Thank you to everyone who did! I had such an unexpected amount of responses it is going to take me a while to get through them all, so please, please don’t think I am ignoring you. I will add them to this list as I post. Hope you enjoy. 

Money From Pie - Gif submitted by @that-one-gay-girl. 

Characters - Dean and Sam Winchester

Warnings - None

Word Count - 861

————-

Larping? Really? - Gif submitted by @flamencodiva

Characters - Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury (mentioned), Y/N.

Warnings - Fluff

Word Count - 795

————-

Do it! - Gif submitted by @warrior-angel

Characters - Demon!Dean, Sam Winchester, Y/N

Warnings - Demon!Dean. A little bit of angst. A few swears. Guess it’s a little dark.

Word Count - 1071

————-

Dead Sexy - Gif submitted by @watermelonlipstick

Characters - Sam x F!Reader

Warnings - Descriptions of a dead body, implied smut.

Word Count - 1.8K

————-

The Sheriff and the Painted Lady - Gif Submitted by @440mxs-wife

Characters - Cowboy!Dean x F!Reader

Warnings - Talk of past trauma, some bullying, a few swears, implied prostitution.

Word Count - 4.8K

————-

Life Thru A Lens - Gif Submitted by @jarpad24

Characters - Jensen Ackles, Y/N

Warnings - None

Word Count - 1.3K

————-

Into the Unknown - Gifs submitted by @soaringeag1e and @flamencodiva

Characters - Dean Winchester, Y/N

Warnings - Smut. Oral sex (male receiving), P in V, slight bondage, sub!Dean. It gets a little dark.

Word Count - 1.3K

————-

Who Ya Gonna Call? - Gifs submitted by @gh0stgurl @rslizj and @snowlovespie

Characters - Jensen Ackles, Y/N

Warnings - Fluff. That’s it really

Word Count - 1.9K

————-

Wild Ride - Gif submitted by @neganslucille1994

Characters - Demon!Dean, Y/N

Warnings - Smut. A few swears. Demon!Dean being dominant, so elements of dub!con. 

Word Count - 473

—————-

Honey, I’m Home - Gif submitted by @gh0stgurl

Characters - Dean, Y/N

Warnings - Smut

Word Count - 384

————-

Forbidden - Gif submitted by @fandom-princess-forevermore

Characters - Soulless!Sam, Y/N

Warnings - Smut, Ass Play

Word Count - 364

————-

Our Little Secret - Gif submitted by @gh0stgurl

Characters - Jensen Ackles, Y/N

Warnings - Smut. Oral Sex (female receiving). A few swears

Word Count - 850

--------

Her Protector - Gifs submitted by @watermelonlipstick and @princessmisery666​

Characters - Dean, Y/N

Warnings - Descriptions of a horror movie. MEGA Fluff. Some swears.

Word Count - 3.8K

————

No One Will Notice - Gif submitted by @treat-winchesterswith-kindness

Characters - Demon!Dean, Y/N

Warnings - Smut, slight voyeurism, Demon!Dean being a dick.

Word Count - 1.8K

————

Trick or Treat - Gif submitted by @kickingitwithkirk

Characters- Dean, Sam, Y/N

Warnings - None. Just a silly one shot for the Halloween season.

Word Count - 1.6K

———-

Down on Dean - Gif submitted by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Characters - Dean, Y/N

Warnings - 18+ SMUT, Extremely NSFW, Rimming (M receiving), Pegging, Lots of swears. Please heed these warnings! It may not be your thing.

Word Count - 3K

———-

Santa Baby - Gif submitted by @gh0stgurl

Characters - Jensen, Y/N

Warnings - None. Just a fluffy one shot for the holiday season.

Word Count - 1.8K

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.” 

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better. 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock​ for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield​ ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow. 

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax. 

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone. 

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning. 

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.” 

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts. 

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same. 

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that. 

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything. 

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right? 

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start. 

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting. 

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name. 

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door. 

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon. 

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful. 

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth. 

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life. 

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room. 

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him. 

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about. 

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago. 

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind. 

“I get it,” Jody finally says. 

Dean glances sharply at her. 

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told... 

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee. 

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long. 

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up. 

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders). 

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood. 

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed. 

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against. 

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood. 

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities. 

Probably. 

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this. 

 The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas. 

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off. 

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly. 

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.” 

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?” 

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger. 

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?” 

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar. 

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—” 

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods. 

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water. 

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air. 

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair. 

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected. 

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth. 

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—” 

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on. 

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead. 

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it. 

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain  what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?” 

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own. 

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him. 

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough. 

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair. 

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really. 

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago. 

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.  

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again. 

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him. 

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this. 

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat. 

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is. 

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step. 

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas. 

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both. 

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists. 

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize. 

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars. 

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic. 

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza. 

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room. 

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up. 

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much. 

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want. 

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face. 

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

[pussyhoundspock]

claire’s deancoded in a lot of ways but unlike dean she’s not a massive fucking cringefail dork ass loser at heart so i think if charlie tried to take her larping, claire would take to it like jo mythic quest. that is to say violently and with a warning that “die lesbian” sounded too much like a hate crime in progress 

[squirreljc]

I know that there was no finale, but theoretically, if there canonically were and it contained a scene wherein 40 years passed on earth while 5 minutes passed in heaven, how would that work??????????????????? Like, in the past, certain people spent longer than that in afterlives but the timelines still ran parallel?? Dark Side of the Moon wouldn't work at all and the Winchesters definitely would've died while Cas fought a whole-ass war. Even when Dean was in Hell, the extra time he received was (I assume) an illusion to add to his torture, as the timeline has also run parallel. There have been phone calls from Hell with no time distortion at all, so they definitely don't have control over time. And Cas specifically says time can be bent, but really not permanently manipulated. I have only one conclusion based on the content of the show: Dean drives the spirit Baby for 40 actual years. If not, Heaven's timeline is all kinds of fucked. If I'm doing the math correctly, one day in Heaven equates to roughly 11,520 years on Earth. That means everybody they know and their great-great-great-great-great(× 6) grandkids would be dead.

What I'm saying is, Dean could've had a fucking montage of him living his best death for 40 years with his family instead of creating a weird and unnecessary time paradox.

Imagine it: playing poker (badly) with Bobby. Visiting his Mom (fuck John). LARPING with Charlie. Finally confirming Ellen and Jo made it to Heaven. Apologizing to the people he couldn't save. Having some father-son time with God. Playing with the dog. ACTUALLY ADDRESSING CAS' CONFESSION.

It could've run parallel to Sam's life. We could've seen both of them happy and healthy. We watch as Dean stays eternally 41 and Sam grows old with his badass deaf wife. Eventually, we get to Sam's final days where he passes away peacefully with Eileen and his accurately-aging son (for my purposes named Henry) by his side. Jack informs Dean Sam is on his way and Team Free Will and co. goes to meet him. They reunite and the core four finally go on that beach vacation Dean had been planning.

[qwertyfingers]

hi it's watch order anon again i sent the time travel ep ask before you answered the tng watch order one (after i saw your post about it taking a while) and i was actually thanking you for recommending spn eps to me (because i'm also the spn watch order anon) and talking about spn time travel episodes (which i am going to look up you don't have to rec any to me if you don't want to). thank you VERY much however for the tng time travel rec list i'm adding them to... the list

OH IM STUPIT KLSGJCHGFG

well, here we have: FITZ’S FUN-RANKED LIST OF SUPERNATURAL TIME TRAVEL EPS (TAKING A ROUNDABOUT DEFINITION OF TIME TRAVEL TO INCLUDE ALTERNATE UNIVERSES BECAUSE THEYRE FUN IN THE SAME WAY OKAY)

IMPORTNANT DISCLAIMER: S5E4 The End is theeeeee iconic Supernatural time travel/au ep but do NOT be led astray you HAVE to watch this one with context. do the full deancas lazarus rising to the end speedrun you will NOT regret it I PROMISE

S6E15 The French Mistake THEEEEEEEEE episode of all time amongst thee show of all time. they KILL eric kripke ONSCREEN

S3E11 Mystery Spot - LITERALLY a timeloop fanfic. EXTREMELY good. fave pre-Cas episode for me.

S5E8 Changing Channels - brings back mystery spots MOTW and makes him even more powerful. iconic behaviour, great episode.

S6E17 My Heart Will Go On is fun hijinks-y but admittedly has very little on-screen time travel. Balthazar is in it though and I like him

S6E18 Frontierland - Dean and Sam send themselves back in time AND it’s a cowboy episode. VERY star trek

S13E16 Scoobynatural - IT COUNTS I THINK. Semi-related, S8E8 Hunteri Heroici involves a guy who make cartoons come to life with his mind. It’s a very fun and very pretty episode and Cas and Dean r gay, well worth watching <3

S4E17 It’s A Terrible Life - Zachariah traps Sam and Dean in alternate reality where Dean is a (heavily implied out queer) businessman of some sort and wears fruity suits. Sam is there I guess. One of its finest Gay Homophobia episodes and genuinely very fun to watch.

S11E14 The Vessel - Dean wears a fruity little sailor outfit and Casifer (Lucifer who is possessing Castiel and the Winchesters don’t know yet - it’s a whole story arc) fists Sam’s soul just for funsies. The ONLY reason Casifer couldn’t get on that boat is because if Cas saw Dean’s fruity sailor outfit for more than a minute he would have lost his MIND and Lucifer woulda had to leave his vessel sharpish.

S8E11 LARP and the Real Girl - I think the title speaks for itself really, I think this counts! Charlie Bradbury (Felicia Day’s character) is in it and she’s cool and gay and Dean wears chainmail <3

S7E12 Time After Time I can’t remember that much about this ep but Dean does wear a very good 40s suit including a shoulder holster <3

I really want to tell you to watch the Belphegor episodes (S15E1-S15E3) but none of it would actually make sense I’m just obsessed with them bringing a messy gay bitch demon into Jack’s body literally top 10 Supernatural Gay Homophobia Moments in my onion.

S8E12 As Time Goes By - Sam and Dean’s grandfather jumps forward in time to find them, and introduces them to the history of the Men Of Letters, whose house they will steal in the next episode

S4E3 In The Beginning - This and the next episode are only ranked so low because I don’t care about Mary and John drama. HOWEVER. Zachariah sends Dean back in time to meet his mum before she married John and Zachariah very possibly fucked her. There are a LOT of memes about this now.

S5E13 The Song Remains The Same - Anna tries to stop Sam from being born. This entire concept is VERY funny to me. As is Sam and Dean showing up on the doorstep of their mum and dad, who do not have children yet, telling them their real names and saying ‘it’s a family name’ when John points out that Mary has relatives with the same name. Comedic genius I don’t care about the rest of the episode but from what I remember it’s pretty good.

S14E13 Lebanon - this episode is bad because it tries to redemption arc John BUT. it gave us  [spoilers] 1) lesbian steve jobs ted talk sam 2) Dean trying to placate alt-Cas who never got to know him by doing the ‘Cas....’ and gentle touch thing and alt-Cas just going ham and obliterating his ass 3) Dean choosing to go back to their world (with Cas <3) over staying in this universe with his Dad because he’s not worth it <3

There are several flashback eps to Dean and Sam’s childhoods, but as you can imagine these are all pretty sad and not the kind of thing you wanna watch For Funsies. The wiki has a list of those here.

The longest alt-universe arc is the Apocalypse World - a world where the Angels and Demons successfully orchestrated their plan to cause the apocalypse and are steadily wiping out the last of the human population. This isn’t overall a “fun” arc, but is v interesting and pique your attention if you like time travel and AU content. The wiki lists all the episodes here.