#dean...you're right!

[seasononesam]

Stackednatural- 318/327

We Happy Few (11x22) May 18th, 2016

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

HELL YEAH IT WAS.

[shadystranger]

sam had a boner here

[angelsdean]

moodboard | dean + traditionally "feminine" things

↳ "If you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader? I would..."

[heliotrope155]

Dean would inform Cas that he loves him after a solid week of psyching himself up to it, where he foregoes everything he'd planned to say and in response, Cas stands there blankly. Sam would sincerely start wishing they hadn't done this in the kitchen and whether he can leave. At this point, Dean would grumpily say, "You got anything to say about that?" to which Cas would go, "I already have, several times." Dean: "No??" and they'd start arguing about who has said it or implied it or proven it more over the years with Jack looking between them like he's watching some kind of tennis match, eyebrows raised as it gets worse and worse.

[monstermoviedean]

love that we're all like yeah dean is mr. monogamy

[lakemichigans]

1.20 - Dead Man’s Blood

[cedar-is-a-nerd]

Look me in the eyes and tell me John Constantine isn't the child of Dean and Cas, I dare you. I DARE EVERY ONE IF YOU TO LOOK AT DEAN AND CAS EIN HESTER, LOOK AT JOHN CONSTANTINE, AND TELL ME THE MAGIC MAN ISNT THE CHILD OF DESTIEL. He has the trench coat, the stubble, the blond, the bisexual, the romance of creature/person line blur, THE EVERYTHING. He's even magic, what more from a Destiel fanchild could you want.

If anyone asks why he's British, he probably got turned British by a British demon who turns people British in the supernatural universe, who also gave him his British superpowers of things that I can't list because there are more than four and I just got into the dcu.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, my regular chaos will resume after I make fanart of my REVOLUTIONARY DISCOVERY.

[hexedwinchester]

Sam was a lonely kid

Before you go there, yes he had Dean but Sam still felt lonely. Feeling lonely can be psychological and one can feel lonely in crowd too. Haven't we all? Forget crowd, we can feel lonely even in the company of friends and family. This state of feeling lonely arises from a disconnect between you and your surroundings.

Sam felt lonely despite having Dean around because Dean was emotionally unavailable. No, I do not blame him because Dean himself was a child and understandably incapable of providing that emotional security.

Sam's always been inquisitive. I imagine all those times he had questions about Mary, about John's hunting and for a long time he didn't get those answers. Not from Dean and definitely not from John.

Now, imagine a slightly older, more mature Sam who has built a persona of himself. He knows what he wants. It's not hunting. He has interests outside of hunting. Maybe it's math or maybe it's literature. But I'm pretty sure neither John nor Dean ever took interest in what Sam liked. They probably laughed at him when he must have expressed his desire to go to the college.

We all connect with people who, if not share, at least support and care about our interests, our likes, our dislikes. That's how we make friends and other relationships. There is a level of acceptance. It didn't happen with Sam.

Sam always felt like an outsider. Every school he went he felt different. He must have felt like an outsider too among his family. When you feel like an outcast, it doesn't take long for loneliness to seep in.

So, it is very normal for Sam to have felt lonely EVEN WITH DEAN AROUND!

Having someone around physically DOES NOT KEEP LONELINESS AWAY!!!

What inspired this post was the scene between Sam and a school professor (Back to School Special episode) where Sam thanks him for taking an interest in Sam because no one else had!

[ebenelephant]

boys, think it through for me real quick. what's the point of a codeword if nine times out of ten you say "what, like -the codeword-?" immediately after.

[spirits-and-sluts]

I have an ADHD assessment appointment in two weeks and it really just can't come soon enough

[shadystranger]

down bad down horrendous down absolutely astronomical completely hopelessly gone ass over tit in his pathetic love-

[aliusfrater]

[youchangedmedestiel]

I have 5 different fic ideas writing down in my phone memo. They all came to me in the space of a week.

I think I'm cursed with ideas and no time to explore them.

[castiellesbian]

lok's and my dms are just us sending each other posts and assigning a supernatural character to them

[lizstiel]

Dean’s sitting at the kitchen table eating meatloaf when it all sort of hits – and he’s desperate to remember it exactly how it happened.

With his fork raised halfway to his mouth, a dollop of meat and sauce perched precariously on the tines, his eyes wandered over to where Cas stood by the sink in a pair of ratty pajama bottoms and one of Dean’s old t-shirts. (One of Dean’s old t-shirts, because once Cas gets his shoulders into them they never really sit the same way.)

He’s got soap up to his elbows, scrubbing methodically at the dishes Dean just dirtied, his brow a taught, concentrated line. He’s bringing the same kind of meticulous focus to the dishes that he used to bring to leading the armies of Heaven; that singular kind of attention, both unnerving and admirable. (Dean had once tried to explain that he didn’t need to wash them quite so vigorously, to which Cas had deadpanned, “Do you know how many food particles remain on the dishes you wash, Dean?” It quickly became his job, after that.)

It’s early July. About 6:30pm. The window over the sink is cracked, and the front door is wide open, letting the sound of cicadas and crickets drift in with the summer breeze. The sun’s starting to set behind the field, casting the world in that particular orange glow that has always made something in Dean ache. In the other room, the record player Sam got them for Christmas plays a beat up Janis Joplin record he’d found at a secondhand store in town. The opening chords of Me and Bobby McGee have just started, and the cicadas are humming, and the crickets are singing, and the sun is setting, and Cas is standing in old pajamas washing dishes Dean just used to make them dinner and –

Cas tilts his head.

This isn’t revolutionary. He does it a lot. A very ingrained behavior, some might say. But he isn’t confused, he’s reacting. To the song. He doesn’t react to music the way Dean wants him to, never has, but in his own way, it’s almost like he’s leaning closer to hear it. An infinitesimal thing. The smallest gesture. The corner of his mouth twitches, and Dean has never loved him more than he does at this moment: backlit by a summer sunset in their house in the middle of nowhere, hand washing dishes and listening to Janis Joplin.

Cas turns when the sound of Dean’s fork clattering on the plate sounds, but Dean just scoops him into his arms, chases any worries away with a kiss, and then another, and then one more for good measure. Cas laughs against his mouth, desperately trying to keep his soapy arms away from Dean’s dry clothes. “Dean,” he chides, squirming and chuckling, trying to extract himself from Dean’s grip. “I’m not finished.”

“I’ll get ‘em tomorrow,” Dean promises, peppering sweet little kisses down the line of Cas' throat. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days. It tickles all the way down. “Love you so much,” he says, because he wants to. Because he’s so full with it he’s overflowing. Because if he doesn’t tell him right now, in this moment, and every moment after this one, he might die. He needs him to know. It’s vital that he knows.

Cas’ laughter warms, and he slides one soapy hand to the back of Dean’s neck, eyebrows raised in challenge when he shudders at the sensation. When Dean doesn’t immediately shoo him away, he slides the other soapy hand up Dean’s arm. “Dean?” He’s not worried, the timber of his voice is honey-smooth and light, but he’s confused. Not that Dean doesn’t tell him often, and loudly, how much he loves him, but to be fair this did kind of come from nowhere, so he understands. It’s just much too much. It’s not enough and it’s everything. It’s everything in the world Dean has ever wanted.

Janis Joplin is singing freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, and Dean’s arms are loose around Cas’ waist, and he loves him, god he loves him so much, so he kisses him on one corner of the mouth, and then the other. Janis says, nothin’, don’t mean nothin’ hon’ if it ain’t free, no, no – and he rocks their bodies together, slow, to the beat of the music. Cas’ arms come to wind around his neck automatically, and his smile starts to sprawl into something reserved for only the really good moments. Wide and gummy and for Dean – and feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues. He presses his forehead to Cas’ and they just sort of sway there like that, smiling at each other like this might be the last chance they ever get.

Cas says – “I love you, Dean,” just as Janis is singing, you know feelin’ good was good enough for me – and it occurs to Dean that he’s dancing in the kitchen with the love of his life. He thinks back to the longest, loneliest nights he spent staring up at the night sky, believing wholly he’d die bloody and alone on the backend of some random hunt, and how the smallest (but loudest) part of him had wished for exactly this. For someone to hold him and see him and dance in the kitchen with him, barefoot and covered in soap.

He kisses the tip of Cas’ nose, the lines under his eyes. Doesn’t realize he’s crying until Cas is wiping tears away with the pads of his thumbs and soothing hands through his hair. He’s crying, too. Laughing and crying and telling Dean he loves him, he loves him so much, he’s loved him from the first moment he saw him.

It settles in Dean then – really settles deep, and true, and good – that he was meant for this. He wasn’t born to be a weapon. Wasn’t born to be a son, or a father, or a brother. Wasn’t born to save the world or to end it – was just meant to dance. His arms were meant to hold. To sway them both around the cheap linoleum floor, to sling low around Cas’ waist and spin them both ‘til they were dizzy with it.

They laugh and kiss and Janis is saying – good enough for me and Bobby McGee – and Dean is thinking – Yeah. Yeah, it really is.