gali(ndigo)⁷

Cas and Dean settle on that one old house by that one lake.

"The one where your mother died?"

"No, man, that place is ugly. Besides, there's no lake there. I'm talking about that one house by that one lake". And Cas is confused and Dean doesn't want to say the one where I thought I'd lost you, but it looks like-

"Wait... you don't mean the one where... Dean, you want us to build our home in the same place where I died?"

"Where I thought I'd lost you forever," Dean quipped.

"Dean-"

"Cas-"

"Dean, that place is-"

"-beautiful, Cas. It's quiet and peaceful and beautiful. Well it was, before..."

Cas doesn't want to stir up any emotions so he calmly looks on Dean and waits for him to continue-

"...but, hey! You're here. And you're never leaving me again. And that place is beautiful again because you're alive! It's like, uh, symbolic! And upside: it's probably abandoned anyways, what's the harm in taking a little look?"

So Cas indulges Dean and they drive the over 1600 miles to North Cove to see that one old house by that one lake, the one where Dean thought he'd lost him forever...

It's about 9 in the morning when they see the house rearing its head and you know what? Dean was right. Cas never noticed how beautiful the whole place really was (Kelly and and an unborn Jack were all he had a mind for at the time). The long drive through the winding mountains, the natural surroundings, it was peaceful and quiet and beautiful, just like Dean had said.

Dean didn't have the heart to tell Cas that he'd memorized every inch of his love's (at the time) final resting place. He didn't tell Cas that the night he kneeled beside his lifeless body there was nothing but quiet, and that the quiet only served to amplify his grief, even if he wasn't being audible. Or that, in the very back of his mind, in the deepest darkest corner, he was a little relieved Cas was finally at peace (he never stopped thinking about what Cas told him all those years ago: about contemplating what he would do to himself if he saw the mess he'd caused in heaven) and how Cas didn't have to carry that burden anymore. But he also couldn't help but think the obvious: he's not here anymore, he's not with me. I want to be with him and now here comes something else to separate us again. When will it end?

But Dean breathes out all those negative thoughts and emotions and breathes in the future: his future with Cas, his future in their own little corner of the sky, his own little heaven.

They walk around the exterior of the house, Dean trying to get Cas to imagine: extending this back area and turning it into a sun room so we have a nice place to sit and watch the sun on the lake in the afternoons...

and oh! this is a solid foundation right here, this'll be great to make the kitchen larger because who hates big kitchens?...

And Dean wanders into the house mindlessly, Cas behind him, as he describes the process of adding insulation and sheet rock to make thicker walls for when it gets cold...

and he walks up the stairs while making a comment about how those stairs are so squeaky, what the hell! god, wood stairs are the worst! you know what, the whole damn floor is coming up, be tile or be nothing!...

and I know what you're thinking: a two bedroom house? yeah right! six bedroom minimum!...

and oh! speaking of rooms, we'll need one for Claire, of course, and Kaia's gonna sleep with her because duh, and maybe one for Jack even though Mr. God is probably gonna be busy all the time. But if he thinks he's too busy to see his dads during the holidays, he's got another thing coming!...

and he lists off a room for Jody and Donna, Alex and Patience can share and one for our future maybe baby-

-wait, our what?-

- hey Cas, look out this window! See that opening over there? We can make that a four-bedroom for Sam, Eileen and our nieces and nephews when they come visit so they have their own space too!

and speaking of space! He says as he jogs down the stairs, there's too many walls here, I say tear em' down. Boom! Open. Floor. Plan. You know, get some sun in here, because you can never have too much sun!...

Dean and Cas sit on the floor of the empty living room, Cas listening to Dean as he spends the entire day laying out the groundwork for the house: how they'll extend the porch, the sides of the house, the upstairs, get rid of the crawl space because why do we need a crawl space? we aren't Walter White, we don't need to hide any money, installing a big gate at the entrance of the property just to be pretentious and because they look really cool in the movies, reinforce the roof because it's a rainfall away from Niagara. And he rants about his hatred of small kitchens, says they're going to have three islands: one to chop and wash foods, one with another stovetop, and one so Cas can sit and watch Dean cook, no exceptions.

Dean stops intermittently and sees the confused looks he's getting from Cas about the smaller details, so he simplifies his vision, I'm thinking front door into open floor plan: on the right- living room, dining room, and kitchen from the front door to the back end, one big piece, maybe a breakfast nook, the sun room across from the kitchen and taking up the whole back exterior of the house except for a small part. To the immediate left of the door- a coat and bench rack to remove our shoes when the snow gets to be too much, a bathroom next to it and the laundry room next to that. The upstairs, accesible from the stairs directly in front of the door, should be seen from the downstairs. Our room is going to be immediately at the top of the stairs, and it'll take up the whole south side of the house, so our room will be on top of the sunroom and kit...chen... oh... we'll figure it out. Then, clockwise from the top of the stairs: maybe baby room, bathroom, Jack's room, Alex and Patience's room, Jody and Donna's room, Claire and Kaia's room, bathroom, and another living area in front of that...

"A maybe what room?"

"Anywaaays! Gardens! You love 'em, I want one!"

And Dean began speaking at length about cutting the trees in the front yard to make more room for Cas's garden, describing it in detail, much to Cas's further confusion: where they'd plant new trees, the ideal color and formation of the flowers, the grass. Remember The Great Gatsby? DiCaprio, not Redford. Yeah, Nick's house? The gay one... no, Ca- the poor gay one- yeah him! Exactly like that!

The new trees have to be planted away from the house because tree roots are evil. Those little bitches weave their way into your plumbing and next thing you know you've got tree roots tickling your ass on the toilet... anyways...

And when Dean had laid out his whole plan, and the sun had set, he laced his fingers with an exhausted Cas's and calmly led him out the back door-

"One last thing..."

-down the steps, right to where- exactly where- Cas died, what are we-?

"Cas..."

Dean grabbed Cas's other hand and held them in a soft but firm grasp, and even though Cas couldn't see Dean's soul anymore, he could feel the calming aura of him: nothing fearful, nothing anxious, just stillness, and he knew not to panic.

"Thanks for letting me drag you all the way across the country to hear me talk about a house all day, you didn't have to do that."

"Didn't I," Cas said through a smile.

"Shut up." Dean's tone was playful as he continued, "I know you doubted this place because of, you know-"

"-my stabbing..."

Dean gave Cas that look-

"I'm sorry... continue..."

Dean began to kneel and tugged at Cas's hands for him to do the same; and they knelt right where Cas had previously laid. Dean guided Cas's hands and together they dug a small whole in the ground, cas wondering the entire time what the hell is going on.

"Give me your ring."

Now Cas gave Dean that look-

"Trust me."

And Cas did trust Dean, so he took his silver wedding band off and handed it to Dean, who took his ring off too and tied them together with a red string before gently placing them in the hole, then he took Cas's hands in his own again and they covered the hole back up, smoothing it over.

"Cas, I want us to build our home here. I meant what I said earlier, about how I thought this place was ugly when I saw you die here, and how it became beautiful when you came back to me. You don't know this, but I came back here when the Empty took you. And I felt you. You were everywhere: in the trees and the foundations of the house and the wind. But I especially felt you right here, in the place you were taken from me for the hundredth time-"

Dean cut himself off and looked at his feet, clearing his throat. Cas could tell he was trying to find the right words, the way his eyes darted slightly back and forth. Dean sighed and looked up, a warm, quiet, assuring smile on his face...

"Our rings in this dirt is my promise to you: that this place belongs to us, that we belong to each other, and that no matter what, what we have is beautiful and real and unending and death-defying and true. I love you. I want to watch the sun rise on your face and watch your face as you watch the sun set over the mountains from our sun room in the afternoons. I want you to watch me cook for you. I want to hold your hand and walk all the way to our gate and back just because. But most of all..."

Cas looked worried over Dean's face for a hint at what he'd say next...

"... I wanna get the hell up from this ground with you, my knees are killing me!"

And Cas laughed as he helped Dean to his feet, and even though he was remorseful he couldn't heal him with a touch anymore, the two of them found that the simple act of just holding each other and feeling each other's presence, was healing enough (that and the icy-hot Cas kept in the impala despite Dean's protests that it would "smell up the car").

And as they made their long journey back to the bunker, and Cas looked over Dean's hand-drawn blueprint, he began to picture everything Dean talked about: the garden, the sunroom, the family, the life. And he inhaled that minty icy-hot smell and looked over at Dean and in his mind re-affirmed what he'd always thought and what he told Dean: wherever Dean would go...

The first time it happened, Dean was too tired to notice.

He had just finished washing the ghoul bits out of his hair and trudged out of the bathroom, falling face first onto the queen size bed of their motel room, the mattress springs protesting under him.

The mostly-asleep angel beside him gave an aborted hum and rolled over to throw an arm over him. Dean didn’t even have enough functioning brain power to think about how cute he was. He just shuffled in closer, nuzzling into the angel’s chest, before falling asleep.

The second time it happened, Dean was more confused than anything.

A few hunts and a few cheap motels later, he blinked his eyes open against the morning sunlight and frowned. Not only because he did not want to be conscious yet, but because he could’ve sworn that he had fallen asleep on the right side of the bed. His side of the bed.

And yet here he was, staring at the wood paneling (who even used that anymore?) of the motel room’s inner wall, an angel molded against his back, soft breath puffing against his neck.

He contemplating the wall for a whole 46 seconds before slipping back to sleep. When he woke up to Cas’s lips on his neck, he forgot to ask about it.

There was a time when the motels were a second home for Dean, next to only the Impala. And maybe Bobby’s place. But now that they had the bunker, they only used motels if they have to, the warmth and familiarity of their own bed much more preferable. It remembers him. It remembers them.

Dean would never admit it to anyone but his angel, but he loved sharing a bed with Cas. It was warm, it was intimate, it was safe. It like nothing he had ever had before. It was just…more.

He hadn’t gone one night without Cas lying next to him since he had finally reciprocated those three words.

But now he was starting to get a little annoyed. This whole swapping-sides phenomenon didn’t happen at home, and it didn’t happen every time they stayed at a motel. But it happened often enough to where he was starting to get fed up.

Every night, he slept on the right side of the bed. That was just his side. That’s why the nightstand on the right had his headphones, Baby’s keys, a pair of novelty socks in case his feet got cold, and some snacks he had stashed away.

That was his side.

Which was why he stopped as soon as he locked the door and turned to face the bed in their Nashville motel room.

Dean always orders strong black coffee out of habit, because caffeine has always been for keeping himself awake to drive all night, not for enjoyment. He’d never really thought about the fact he didn’t like the dark, bitter tang of it, just swallowed it down when it was still hot enough to scald his throat and kept driving. Drinking anything besides alcohol or coffee wasn’t an option anyway: when Dean was ten and tried to order a hot chocolate like Sammy, his Dad had sneered at him and said real men didn’t drink girly shit like that. 

It starts quietly, like all revolutions. On a whim one morning, Dean steals a spoonful of froth from the top of Cas’s drink purely to annoy him - but he finds something about the soft, sugary sweetness of it addictive (maybe because it reminds him of Cas’s kisses). He starts doing it every time they go out, sometimes more than one spoonful of cream, sometimes a quick, brazen gulp of the warm, sweet liquid underneath. 

Sometimes he does it deliberately right in front of Cas with a cheeky, what-you-going-to-do-about-it grin; sometimes he invents outlandish distractions so that Cas will look away, leaving him to childishly spoon cream and chocolate sprinkles into his mouth as fast as he can. 

Cas is a thousand year old celestial being, he knows damn well when someone is stealing his caffeine, but he keeps up the charade because he loves watching the quiet, secret pleasure on Dean’s face when he takes a sip, like he never knew life could taste like this. Sometimes it leaves a tiny blob of foam on Dean’s freckled nose that Cas doesn’t tell him about because it makes him look beautiful in ways he’d never allow himself to look. 

Cas loves how happy Dean looks across the table from him on those mornings, loves knowing that their mouths taste the same and the intimacy of it that would once have seemed so impossible. He loves how Dean gets bolder with it, drinks a little more each time, catches Cas’s eyes and smiles, stops trying to hide the enjoyment that shines quietly in his gaze.   

More than anything, Cas loves that Dean can do this with him, that he feels free to break all his old rules; that he’s learning he deserves to have things in life just because they make him happy. 

i dont know why the chapters were switched but if anyone who wants to read it wants a better comprehension of the story, i would start with chapter 2 then go back to chapter 1.

chapter 1 as it is now is a bit confusing because they're already together but then chapter 2 introduces them to each other for the first time? (plus hester is in the new chapter one but she's ooc unless you read the new chapter two first to understand why she's doing what she's doing).

again i'm sure the authors did it for a reason but as it stands now for anyone who's never read t&s before, they might be confused at the established relationship then sudden introduction to each other.

plus there's no "flashback to" or "remember the night we met" in the first chapter to indicate that we're going back in time. and there's about a month gap between the chapters (if memory serves) so that was even more confusing. and i don't remember vividly but i think there's a callback or two from the original first chapter (now 2) that won't make sense if you read the new first chapter (then 2) first (like the hester thing).

tl;dr: i dont say any of this with the intention of criticizing the authors' choice to move the chapters, but reader-to-reader advice for better story understanding. so again, if you'd like to read twist and shout and worry you might feel confused/were confused by the opening:

for those that don't know, the vampires in true blood have "come out" of hiding and revealed their existence to the world. they have politicians that fight for vampires to have equal rights as humans and synthetic blood to drink and the such. but because theyre out and people know about them, they experience prejudice from the humans, many of whom aren't eager to share their planet with beings that could kill them before they hit the ground. yes many vampires aren't happy they got outed, and yes some of them want to continue their reign of terror, but that doesn't mean they're all like that. besides it's not like they don't have willing human volunteers who want to be with them (who are also hated for interacting with "the other").

now think: you know what would happen if people were told about the supernatural? chaos and violence. the distrust of everyone and everything around you, the paranoia that you could be next, the death toll, accidental or otherwise, of monsters and humans alike, and the ramifications of those deaths. it would all boil down to one thing: fear of the other.

so then i thought, "well about the good monsters?" your bennys and your garths and such; monsters who've worked hard to live alongside humans and be as clean as possible. what would happen to creatures like them in a post-secret monster world? well, humans would argue three good ones don't outweigh thousands of bad ones and, "a monster's a monster."

and what about witches and wiccans? would they be classified as monsters too because we know they've been hunted before. what about the rowenas and maxes and alicias of the world? and let's not forget they don't just exist in fantasy, they exist in our world, too. not to mention hunters use summoning rituals and spells as well, would they be considered witches even if they're just using it to hunt?

and the kaia's? they could be categorized under psychic, but someone like kaia and someone like patience don't have the same powers. and what about the patience's? as humans we tend to want to understand things and be able to put them in their respective boxes so they make sense but that's not the case. kaia is no more a psychic than i am mentally stable.

and we know there are other dreamwalkers; what would happen to them? kaia literally told a group of people she doesn't like doing drugs but she has to stay awake so she doesn't go to the bad place and they dismissed it "we all have our bad places". they don't understand, they can't. wheres the halfway house for someone like her? where could someone like her find others who understand her?

and what about patience and real psychics like her? who's to say real psychics in a post-secret monster world wouldnt be kidnapped and forced to use their powers by others on others. who would stop those civ-on-psychic crimes from being commited?

and on that note, i just thought of the film bright. if you dont know about it, orcs and fairies and other mystical magical creatures have been integrated into society... successfully?

there are different districts for each kind of creature and humans live about amongst them. thing is, in the film, they dont have there own protecting them, just humans. in fact, theyve made it hard for other creatures to "be one of them." one orc that made it into the lapd doesnt outnumber the hundreds of humans on the force who despise him. so i wonder, would that happen to the supernatural on spn?

it begs an important question: if there were "monsters" who actually wanted to help others like them, would they be given the space by humans they need to educate themselves and others like them or would there hostility and difficulty or would be an eye roll and a "ugh fine, here" reluctance to it? reluctance is not activism.

like i said, paranoia would set in. many monsters look like people, so how could you tell who's a monster and who's not? would all monsters have to register themselves, a-la the sokovia accords? would they want to do that anyway? what about their free-will? do they have any? there's so many implications and scenarios and mud to tread through that answering all those questions and creating a safe society for not just humans but monsters too that it would be hard to make it all happen and above all, make it work.

in the third gif dean slides his hand down so cas has a better position to heal him but cas chases deans hand

then in the fourth gif dean looks down bc cas wrapped his finger around deans thumb, if only for a moment

in the fifth gif cas's faces resembles one of contentedness, like when someone got to be in close contact or even touch, if only a small part of, someone they like

THEN THE SIXTH GIF MY GOD cas slides his hand off deans arms, not up and away. but if you notice, it's so small but it almost looks like dean wanted to touch cas's finger, notice his thumb reach out ever so slightly before cas's finger is gone

Some people are legitimately allergic to thd proteins in certain meats and can’t even eat anything cooked in the same pan as X meat product/s.

As an epidemiologist I can list a few of the more annoying longer explanations that no one wants to have to explain to every person who ever offers them food:

- You drank water contaminated with giardia, which gave you 3 weeks of diarrhea followed by 3 years of lactose intolerance

- You were bitten by a Lone Star Tick and developed an allergy to beef and pork because the Lone Star Tick is a bastard

- You are Jewish and the meat isn’t kosher, but you don’t want to say that because antisemitism is A Thing and you don’t want to get bombarded with questions about the Middle East while you’re hungry

- You are Muslim and the meat isn’t halal, but you don’t want to say that because Islamophobia is A Thing and you don’t want to get bombarded with questions about the Middle East while you’re hungry

- You are on a restricted diet for medical reasons and don’t want to get bombarded with questions about your medical history while you’re hungry

- You are on a restricted diet for reasons that *are nobody’s business* and don’t want to get pulled into Potentially Triggering Diet Talk while you’re hungry.

Obviously it’s important to be mindful of allergies and medical reasons why people can’t eat certain foods, but I also feel like it’s important to point out that vegans and vegetarians shouldn’t have to have some secret other ‘real’ reason behind their dietary choices in order to have them respected.

(wines too, be careful)

i beg non-vegans to be mindful of their vegan friends, and even if they "aren't allergic" don't give them desserts or other foods without acknowledging what's in them, even if "its just a little bit" or "you can't even taste it".

my sister has done this to me on multiple occasions and i've conditioned myself to check every ingredient on every box and bag she uses in her food when she offers me some, which is honestly kind of sad.

if you're doing this to "prove you can't be vegan" your not cool you're an asshole and it's not your place to show vegans "what they're missing" if they left it it's for a reason that is none of your business.

we do not belong together! and we should have belonged together!

Misha Collins was an intern in the Bill Clinton administration in 1994 for four months, which ended before Monica Lewinsky started her internship in 1995.

When the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal broke in 1998, Misha wrote an op-ed in support of Lewinsky, addressing victim-blaming accusations that she was “starstruck” with Clinton and perused him.

Misha said all interns were infatuated with, and hero worshiped Clinton, including himself.

“If Monica Lewinsky had not seemed like a starstruck, infatuated intern who hung around the West Wing every chance she got then it would be fair to say that her behavior in the White House was suspicious.“ (source)

No, Misha Collins did not fuck Bill Clinton. (Can’t believe that is a sentence I just typed in the year of our lord 2020.)

Yes, Misha did use his position to speak out against the media harassment and victim-blaming of Monica Lewinksy.

I just saw your post about 15x18 and since I'm critical by nature and don't have much knowledge of the 'art' I gotta ask:

Is it possible in any degree that when they wrote "pulls him closer" they meant "pulling closer to look at his face last time before disengaging", which is more or less what we got? I'm wondering how reasonable would it be for Cas to be the one pulling Dean close (after stating he thinks Dean doesn't reciprocate) if it was about something more, until of course reciprocation from Dean was before that part.

Also, how realistically possible is it that misplacement of characters between shots came from taking different pieces of different attempts? Again, sorry for playing Devil's advocate and asking supposedly stupid questions, but it's easier for me to understand the viewpoint this way.

Thanks for everything your group is doing!

Okay so while your first one is a wild way to like, try to… nerf? It? By? Adding words? That? Really? Don’t? Nerf? It?

The “misplacement of characters/different pieces of attempts” is a… like at best, your argument is “What if the editing team is just REALLY BAD AT THEIR JOBS?” thing, because continuity is EXTREMELY IMPORTANT. Even in mixing takes. Especially since that continuity could be easily fixed by using the same shots in an only lightly-ass rotated order, which then just totally magically becomes fluid. (seen HERE x)

It’s literally their job to be consistent, even with different takes. Anything else breaks a scene.

Someone I know took this scene into blender, mimicked the room size, lens type that would be used, the height of the actors, etc, and the camera angles to gauge the respective positions and I’m gonna show you something fucking cursed as shit. (courtesy @winchestersingerautorepair )

Yes, hello, this is the deepest sort of cursed knowledge one can muster, and all I can say is props for her being this skilled/dedicated/obsessed to do it, but like

once you take this basic knowledge and try to make it “pulls Dean close to look him in the face one last time”, this attempted dissolution of what these frames actually translate to doesn’t… really… make it… less… than it is. Like… at all. Remotely.

Now I know some people get on a “secret cut kiss” take or something like this, which I’m not on at all. I’m talking about the fact that this scene was, between this and the other linked post, BLATANTLY butchered to keep the moment from being as soft, fluid, close and tender as it was and to make them perpetually feel at arm’s reach, when really, they were RIGHT up in each other’s grill.