#shieldofgod

It’s a wonder how long it took for the archangel to fly back home, take his place as a leader where Michael would have been, or Father, too. Yet neither were around and Naomi took their places, a lost child playing pretend. Kemuel had done a decent amount of wrong in his long life, most reasoned to Father’s will and the betterment of the world. 

But this, smoting the angel and bringing Castiel to his cabin?

One of the many right things in his life.

Kemuel arrived to the cabin to nothing but the sound of dusk wildlife. He sucked in a breath and laid Castiel’s unconscious form on his bed, careful in adjusting the seraph’s bloodied wings. Uninjured but dirty, Kemuel gently started to rinse the feathers of their grime with a soft sponge and tender touch. “I got you, brother,” he whispered to the unconscious, having since healed the angel’s vessel. Now Castiel had to mend his own grace, something no archangel could truly hasten.

After a few hours of caring for the angel, he relented to dozing off in a chair on the other side of the room, leaving Castiel to himself till daybreak.

@shieldofgod​

There was something absolutely heartbreaking about failing a mission that could save the world. But what was even worse, was surviving such a terrible fail. For every moment that he closed his eyes, the smell returned to him. That scent of the damp earth his face was being pressed into as that fancy white Italian shoe pressed down on his neck. 

Sitting on his own in the top floor of an abandoned building, Dean tried his best not to let that memory resurface. But every time he blinked he could feel it, that pressure, his heart pounding in his chest as he’d awaited the finishing blow. Honestly, even now he still didn’t know why it hadn’t come, aside from those obvious sensations it was all a blur. 

Absentmindedly he reached his hand up to his neck, his fingers brushing against the skin as he wondered if it was just him or if he truly could still feel where the heel had bruised his skin. He didn’t even realise his hands were trembling, tears brimming his eyes, his breathing fast as his mind seemed to go in circles. 

You have failed everyone. 

Dean had always known that his mind was prone to overthinking, overanalysing, seeing danger everywhere. It was part of him, part of the job, and after Sam had somehow given in to Lucifer it had only gotten worse. But this was an all-time high. Hearing his own voice repeat that sentence in his mind as his mind brought back the vision of Lucifer in Sam’s body, ready to kill him in that white suit, rose in hand as if he were simply preparing for a date and not killing his brother ... But that was just it, it was no longer Sam. Sam was gone, he’d failed him ...

You failed everyone. You failed yourself, your protegees, Cas ... and you failed Sam ... again.

If anything, all he wanted right now was to disappear, have the earth swallow him up and make everything go away. The shame, the pain, the disappointment and disgust at his own inability to set things right was simply too much, he simply didn’t dare return to camp. In fact he had no idea even of how long it had been since he had gone out to kill Lucifer and fail. 

Did they want the apocalypse? 

It didn’t matter.

Julian sat down in his office and his hands shakily reached for his phone. He looked up Castiel’s number and swallowed. He had to call him back; they needed to talk. He picked up the phone and dialed up Castiel.

“Please answer,” he whispered, easing the rapid beat of his heart as his mouth dried up in anxiety.

Thought-Provoking Headcanon Meme || accepting !

I’m gonna’ write some stuff and trust that somebody out there will tell me to go fuck myself if I do a bad job.  And if that happens I will do my best to learn from it and adjust.  ANYWAY! 

Gabriel was assigned one role at creation and it was not a gender role. It was Messenger.  I always use he/him pronouns regardless of what shape he’s in when I write Gabriel because I think he found a gender identity along the way and got pretty attached to it, like some people do. But I don’t think he ever got really into the ideas/roles surrounding his chosen gender identity, if that makes sense?  He likes what it means to him and has no need for the roles others have constructed around that idea. 

Send in kinks you think my muse has [x] (They’ll have to verify, deny or accept them.)

“Cas you try to hide behind that innocent angel thing but your real colours are showing.” Sam was teasing, but let’s be real, he wasn’t exactly being all that chiding. “Bondage, yes. Lingerie I could take or leave, it’s nice but not really necessary. Same for facials. Delay/denial is fun, but only when I’m doing it to someone else. Honestly, making someone come so many times they’re whimpering for mercy is the better option. I like when they’re strung out, fucked gaping open, sliding against the sheets, so full they’re shaking and are trying to cling to the bed except they’re so tired they can’t clench their fingers properly. 

Between that or denial it’s obvious which one’s the choice to go with.”

This isn’t so much RP related, but I’ve made a lot of friends who have gone out of their way to help me through situations.

The couch was about as comfortable as anything could be; well-worn, but far better than floorboards.  Cas wasn’t aware Sam had come back with a hot-wired car for a short break on Dean’s admonishment – some recovery time from his long, sleepless stint and struggle with Lucifer – and therefore hadn’t thought to be awake for it.

There was a decent chance Bobby hadn’t known, either.

Still, the gentle hand smoothing over his coverts, lesser and greater, woke him up; he half-expected it to be Bobby, but instead, it was the younger Winchester.

Cas held very still for a moment, eyes wide, but he didn’t feel threatened.  Just shocked, for the moment, and genuinely, deeply hoping Dean wasn’t going to follow.

“…hello, Sam.”

Sam froze at the sound of the angel’s voice, shock and embarrassment flooding his face at waking him up like this. “Cas,” he faltered quietly, taking a step back. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - I just - I wasn’t sure if I was imagining things or if I was really seeing you like this...”

He ground the heel of one hand into his eyes, which still felt sore and gritty after all the time he’d spent just not sleeping, and took another look. “Sorry I woke you up,” he added, shamefaced. “Dean sent me back to catch a break. Forgot you guys’d be asleep at this time.”