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@pcrdition
i havenât eaten properly in 2 weeks kill me :))

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??? !!! ( @lightcreators )  //  SC
        Castiel wishes there were a way to turn of âangel radioâ, turn off the sounds in his head--static white noise persistent through ALL HOURS of the day ( because angels donât sleep, angels donât take a break, angels donât stop running----angels donât get the time to     B R E A T H E  )----but Castiel needs to breathe for a little bit, but he stifles down the need to answer prayers, the second most popular commodity among celestials next to SOULS.    â  you called me?  â    Â
âi really fucked it up this timeâ ( from sam! )
MEMEÂ //Â ACCEPTINGÂ //Â @createdmayhem
    part of Castiel wants to tell Sam that heâs not here to FIX HIS MISTAKES, but he knows thatâs not true. itâs absolutely not true--Castiel lives to SERVER HUMANKIND  ( an angelâs RIGHTFUL duty!  chores of the celestial: as if humans were his Fatherâs pets but his sons were the ones left to clean up their complicated messes ).
   â  what happened, Sam?  â    Â
How's my portrayal? Leave an opinion in my inbox.
âMoonlight is sculpture.â

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mumford and sons starters
âtake all the courage you have leftâ
âyouâll never be what is in your heartâ
âi really fucked it up this timeâ
âi see the shame in your defeatâ
âyou take what is yours and iâll take mineâ
âi know my call despite my faultsâ
âi will not hear what you have to sayâ
âyou can call it love, if you wantâ
âitâs a water-tight excuseâ
âitâs in the eyes!â
âi can tell you will always be dangerâ
âyou forgave and I wonât forgetâ
âbow my head, keep my heart slowâ
âyouâve only lost the nightâ
âi donât even know if i believeâ
âmay they comfort you tonightâ
âthis is never gonna go our wayâ
âyou have been found wantingâ
âi want to learn to love in kindâ
âyou were all i ever longed forâ
âi had been resisting this decayâ
âbut this is all i ever wasâ
âyour words are empty as the bed we madeâ
âdonât tell me that iâve changed because thatâs not this truthâ
âyou swore you wouldnât do this anymoreâ
âthereâs nothing here for you tonightâ
âmy heart was never pureâ
âlive unbruised, we are friendsâ
âlove, it will not betray youâ
âthe beauty of love as it was made to beâ
âso fuck your dreamsâ
âbut no flame burns foreverâ
âin the dark i have no nameâ
âi was sure we could see a new startâ
âdonât hold a glass over the flamesâ
âwe tried so hard to live in the truthâ
âdo not tell me all is fineâ
âi wonât let you chokeâ
âwhen i lose my head i lose my spineâ
âi will learn to love the skies iâm underâ
âiâm a hopeless wandererâ
âwhere was my fault in loving you with my whole heart?â
âyou did not think when you sent me to the brinkâ
âlead me to the truthâ
âi will follow you with my whole lifeâ
âiâll be home, safe and tucked awayâ
âiâll never be your chosen oneâ
âyou canât tempt me if i donât see the dayâ
âin this twilight, how dare you speak of grace?â
âin this twilight our choices seal our fate?â
âyou saw no fault, no cracks in my heartâ
âyou saw my pain, washed out in the rainâ
âi will hold as long as you likeâ
âjust promise me weâll be alrightâ
âgive me hope in the darkness that i will see the lightâ
âthatâs exactly how this grace thing worksâ
âyouâve gone to far this timeâ
âiâd be yours if youâd be mineâ
âwatch me stumbleâ
âbut love the one you holdâ
âso watch me as i glideâ
âiâll be your goldâ
âwith skin too tight and eyes like marblesâ
âa lover of the lightâ
âlet me learn from where I have beenâ
âfor all my sweat, my blood runs weakâ
âŒ
ASK MY SON THINGS!! // ACCEPTING!!
⌠: Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?Â
his body clock doesnât really register day or night, so to him, it doesnât really matter. aesthetically, Castiel prefers sunrise and daytime, mostly for the colors. i have a #smol headcanon that angels are rather cold-blooded. they burn like cold fire, veins are golden ice. theyâre not very warm creatures--temperature-wise. they burn several different temperatures, and theyâre hot and cold at the same time, and Castiel, specifically, leans toward the colder temperature. in that regard, Castiel likes daytime because itâs warm and because he likes the sun.
Random headcanon meme!
†: What does your museâs voice sound like? Is it light? High pitched? Scratchy? Deep?Â
â : What is your museâs handwriting like? Is it neat? Sloppy? Fancy?
â : Does your muse prefer coffee or tea?
â : Is your muse good with keeping on schedule for meetings, appointments, or events, or are they always late? Or, are they always a bit early?
âż : Has your muse had any injuries in the past?
âș : What is your museâs smile like? Do they smile often?
⥠: How does your muse feel about storms? Are they afraid of them, or do they calm them?
â : How does your muse react to possibly dangerous situations? Do they face them head-on, or do they plan out their actions first?
â Â : What is your museâs favorite season? What about their least favorite season, if they have one?Â
â Â : Does your muse like rain?
⌠: Does your muse like daytime or nighttime more?
đš Â : How well does your muse sleep?
†: What are your museâs thoughts on love? If they are not in a relationship, do they believe that they will ever find a perfect someone for them?
â : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?
⯠: Does your muse have good eyesight? If not, what is it like? Are they nearsighted or farsighted? Or both? Do they use glasses? Or do they prefer contacts?
đ : If your muse wears glasses, what are their glasses frames like?
âš : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?
â : What is your museâs opinion about flower crowns?
⏠: Does your muse sing well? Regardless of whether they sing well or not, do they enjoy singing?
đ : Is your muse good at math? Do they like it, or do they hate it?
â : What is your museâs favorite animal?
ΔŃĐ· : How does your muse feel about bugs and insects?
đ± : Does your muse prefer calling or texting?
â : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your museâs favorite?
ă : Does your muse prefer lots of friends, or just a few close ones?
â : Is your muse religious?
&&. (  astrapure --
   demons ? it seemed rather odd to speak of demons outside the context of how humans could be; least, she assumes itâs what he means. sheâs already met plenty of demons within her lifetime, but none that werenât humans with greed and a lust for power making them in such a way.Â
  â  demons; i havenât met any on midgard yet - they exist here ?  â Â
  â  perhaps they have not made it to any other planes or DIMENSIONS then.  â    Â
     Castiel wouldnât DOUBT that demons would get bored anywhere else in the universe. there is probably no other species as susceptible to sin as humankind. how odd--Godâs perfect creation, his crowning achievement, is the only thing SO EASILY TAINTED by the most terrible manifestation of his hard work and efforts, the mangled remains of angels who once were, the black-burnt insides of humans who fell into the earthâs core and destroyed their integrity. how  I R O N I C  of his Father.

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â Killing is distasteful⊠to me. â ( love me :') <3 )
                 â&&Rightfully so, but we were not made to create, Castiel. We were always made to be extensions of Godsâ hand && to act on his will. I do not kill because I like it. You must never mistake me for that,â says the fallen angel in the quiet space that they share. He speaks with fervor, passion, and his gaze is kind. âYou must not worry about the lives that extinguish by your hand, or you will be lost in it forever.â
  Smile fades, appearances change, and his presence changes from one of PURE ANGELIC WARMTH to something that dunks the room into an ice bath, clutching at Castielâs very essence.Â
                                      âIf push came to shove, think you could do me in?â
&&. (  fllenfirst --
        perhaps the difference in them is how they react to not having God at the backs of their wings; Castiel can live without it, but Lucifer must learn to live without it. Perhaps the difference there lay that Lucifer was Godsâ favorite && now that favor has shifted to the angel before him. Castiel, so wary of maintaining eye contact with him. Castiel, forgiven time and time again for slights that Lucifer would have been condemned for eternity on. At one point Lucifer would have died upon the cross to be forgiven. Now the window of forgiveness has long passed.Â
 He inclines his chin, observing, and his mouth lifts into a small smile upon his face.Â
             âThey are all ratherâŠ?â Lucifer echoes in question, fidgeting something in his hands, and he perches himself up seated on the desk. Long legs dangle. In this form, he is still a little taller than Castielâs head. âIâve grown attached to this one. It must be nice, to stay in one.â Is there envy on his voice? He remains patient.Â
    the corner of Castielâs mouth perks up as he casts his eyes downward, following the length of Luciferâs body--long, thin, ELEGANT, beautiful in a way that Lucifer could only make it. perhaps itâs the face. it doesnât do justice to the essence hidden beneath it, the beauty of angelic presence and golden grace. Luciferâs grace isnât golden.
        ITâS WHITE.Â
   purest in its form, the first of many later graces breathed from their Fatherâs lips, giving soul to dutiful creators bent on only loving and serving a singular being, a singular Father. Lucifer has not forsaken his original duties, has never left his post, has never strayed from the love he feels for God--but he was the CONDEMNED SON, cast aside to make room for more obedient children. Perhaps, Castiel shouldâve been in Luciferâs place instead.
   â  itâs not as GLAMOROUS as youâd think,  â    Castiel finally says, looking back up at Luciferâs face ( past Luciferâs face--because Castiel canât have a conversation with human features, canât STAND to look at his Fatherâs most beloved work when his most underrated work is sitting just before him ).    â  should i change my vessel?  â    Â
&&. (  cutiecxbe --
   well, she wasnât expecting THIS - someone to seemingly know just what was contained within, brows rising if only for a brief moment before relaxing once more. for once, thereâs not an incline of concern within, but a minuscule smile that rises on her features, allowing cerulean hue to overcome previous chestnut within her gaze. there was something off about him; he appeared fairly human, yet held a gaze that spoke of age, energy that spoke of something rather different - not much like anything sheâs quite encountered.
  â honestly, i can handle myself pretty well, sir. â
     he wouldnât doubt she could handle herself, wouldnât doubt she could knock him flat on his ass and torch the entire building. sheâs powerful--and Castiel doesnât know where that limit hits, where it ends. itâs quite amazing, astounding, and he doesnât dare come near her, doesnât dare let two different celestial planes clash for fear that the earth shake beneath their might. the earth wasnât meant to HARBOR THEIR KIND.
   â  i donât doubt it--but... umm... it doesnât hurt to be too careful sometimes. demons tend to have greedy hands.  â    Â
Keep reading
TESSERACT!! ( @astrapureâ )  //  SC
     an ancient power, old as time, old as Castiel ( older! ), old as his Father--a clean source, pure--and itâs standing in front of him. undeniable power just manifested in an unimportant vessel, contained in a creation that wasnât meant to hold such power. part of Castiel worries that HUMAN NATURE might taint something so precious.    â  i donât think you should be walking around unprotected...  â    Â

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&&. (  vampteen --
âcourse iâm bloody upset.â michel resumes his spot on his coffin, curling his legs underneath his small frame. âi was seventeen andâŠi was seventeen and i was afraid and i remember my crucifix being ripped off my neck because they couldnât touch me when i was wearing it and i remember begging Him for it all to end. and nowâŠâ he exhales and he wants to cry but he wonât give him the pleasure of seeing him break down.Â
ânow iâm doomed to hell.â michel supposes that would be appropriate enough a place for him to go. âyou know, castiel, thereâs a legend in the vampire councils library. in old withering paper thatâs older than i am. older than the oldest elder is.â he pauses. âthe legend. it claims that the first vampire made a deal with the devil. doomed the rest of us to hell.â he slams a hand down on his coffin, the wood cracking slightly under his fist, and he can hear the breaking of his knuckles but he knows theyâll be fixed soon enough.Â
âiâm upset that i wonât see my mother again. iâm upset that i wonât be able to enjoy her presence, the presence of my fiancee who i left back in London. IâmâŠjust upset.â he doesnât say anything for a minute.Â
âi had no one but giovanni. our creators abandoned us. my god abandoned me. itâs a continuous cycle, castiel.â his voice shakes. âi canât understand any of it. and i donât think i want to. iâve never killed anyone. iâve never taken more than i needed and yet because of one individual i am doomed to hell despite my years of belief. despite being as FAITHFUL as I could manage to be.â
  heâs talkative. maybe thatâs something about mortals, or formerly humans. they always talk, like to waste time they donât have--well... this boy certainly has the TIME now. Castielâs learned that with age, people get quiet. they learn to embrace silence--because the world was full of too many voices, too many thoughts and ideas and worries, complaints, complaints, complaints......
  Castielâs barely listening to Michel--not that he doesnât care, but heâs heard it all before. all angels hear prayers, respond to them when convenient or necessary. heâs heard this prayer from millions of voices, billions of voices--an echoing of a question that not even angels can answer, because they CANNOT ANSWER for their Father.Â
  â  legends are often misconstrued,  â     Castiel finally says, standing up and walking to the window.   â  in many cases... theyâre FABRICATED.  â    Â
      he turns to look at Michel, and he wonders when that fire will be doused, when Michel can finally move on from his dependency on God.Â
  â  the rules by which you GOVERN YOURSELF by are also fabricated--by humanity. death... is natural, as is killing. ever since and Adam and Eve unleashed knowledge and evil into the world, thereâs no avoiding these things. diseases, violators, murderers. blood doesnât end life. it begins it. iâm sure God appreciates your faithfulness and your abstinence, but there is no reward for it. eternal life, perhaps--but youâve achieved that at this point, havenât you. you should learn too be a better vampire rather than being a former human if you want to survive properly.  â    Â
       the world changes again.
&&. (  vampteen --
âdid giovanni send you here? did he find this funny?â he avoids looking at the angel, the stinging in his eyes fading as he looks at the poster of elvis taped to the wall next to a protest poster for the Vietnam War. michel stands from his desk chair, going to sit on top of his coffin instead, feeling the wood underneath his fingers was immensely calming. he bites his lip with the tip of a fang, letting the blood spill from his lips, drip down his chin. perhaps itâd make his innocent face look more deadly. he was after all one of the most dangerous creatures in existence, behind angels and werewolves. although if you asked michel heâd say vampires outranked werewolves. those damn furballs.Â
thereâs a sickly sweet smell in the air and he knows itâs coming from castiel and it makes his stomach churn, the woman he fed offs blood stirring oddly in his stomach.Â
âdoes your presence disturb me? yes. i canât look at you without my eyes burning. explain me this, castiel.â he vanishes, appearing behind the angel. âi was a religious boy. oh i was religious. i went to church every single day it was open. i prayed every night. yetâŠyet i was turned into a fucking monster. and if thatâs not bad enoughâŠâ he exhales. âdamn it look at me! i canât even look at you properly without my eyes burning. touching you would burn my hands. I CANâT EVEN STEP A FOOT ON HOLY GROUND. AND ITâS ALL HIS FAULT.â
     the air turns from sour to bitter. perhaps in this context, Castiel understands Michelâs anger for once, UNDERSTANDS why heâs so upset and annoyed, frustrated not only with himself but with his Father. the angel is barely swayed by the words spat at him, yelled. Michelâs tone makes to sound as if heâs cursing Castiel, but Castiel can only think how Michel looks like a FRIGHTENED PUPPY--lost without his master, his religion, the rock that he depended on by faith alone. Castiel can relate, but he cannot help.
   â  i asked if i made you uncomfortable, not disturbed, but i suppose the two are SYNONYMOUS to you at this point. angels are... quite disturbing when met in the wrong context--the wrong place, the wrong time.  â    Â
          ANGELS WERE FRIGHTENING.
   Castiel grabs for Michelâs chair, the one heâd been sitting in previously, and sits in it. he finds that people sometimes feel more comfortable when he sits down, an unconscious power play between those looking up and looking down. perhaps thatâs why humans think God is almighty, because he looks down on everything. you see everything from the clouds.
   â  youâre upset,  â     he finally says, DEFINITE--for sure. thatâs an unmistakable emotion.    â  are you upset because God didnât protect you when you were turned, or are you upset that you canât ask God to SAVE YOU again?  â    Â