The Unbearable Weight Of Being Seen™

Alastair is yammering away like he has been all night in Dean’s head but joke’s on fucking him, words don’t make any sense right now. He was singing the birthday song for a while but it’s just sound now. Dean is the type of drunk where you start losin track of the meaning of words. People say shit to you and they sound like a cartoon playing backwards. Colors are upside down. The floor is moving. He always panics when he gets here. He’s got blacking out on purpose down to a science, but sometimes he takes one shot too much. A step too far. It’s a balance, yeah? You wanna be senseless but not spinning. He’s sitting on the floor in his motel room, back against the wall and both hands pressed to the gross carpet. Maybe his body can explain to his brain that he’s sitting still.

Suddenly, with a slap of blinding electricity, he’s sober. Cas is standing in front of him and Dean is too disoriented to stand up or do anything but sit there like a dumbass.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. What’re you doin here?”

“You were praying to me.”

“No, I was fucking not.”

“I heard my name once. After that, it was just wordless panic.”

“Oh. Just drank too much. Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait. Don’t zap away. Sit down.”

Cas stares at him, face unreadable, for an endless moment. Something stops Dean from saying anything. He could look at Cas’ face forever, now that he’s letting himself. He cranes his neck back, watching the weird, sharp shapes of Cas’ face get even weirder and sharper in the moonlight, get even weirder and sharper from this angle. And then Cas sits down on the floor, criss-cross-applesauce. Huh. Must be Jimmy Novak’s muscle memory. Dean can see a strip of his calves at the top of his dress socks. He has to resist the urge to reach out and touch.

“It’s my birthday.” Stupid.

“I know.”

“You’re supposed to say happy birthday.”

Cas tilts his head in that way that Dean is starting to get fond of. “Is it?”

“Yeah, that’s the thing human beings say.”

“You misunderstand me. Is it happy?”

Dean laughs. “Nah, it’s really not. Tried to drink myself to sleep but it didn’t work.”

“I can put you to sleep. I can make sure you don’t dream. My gift to you, as I believe is customary.”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll take you up on that, but first… Um. Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” He doesn’t wanna be alone. Dean feels himself blush. Fuck. “Unless you have angel shit to do.”

“I don’t have… Angel shit to do at this moment.”

Dean spends his thirtieth birthday watching Boondocks Saints with an angel in a dirty motel room. He asks Cas one question about Catholicism and triggers a monologue about the Protestant schism and how Martin Luther was “the most irritating and pedantic man that has ever walked the Earth, including Slavoj Zizek.” Dean laughs himself into a side stitch and Cas smiles back, not confused like you’d think. He was trying to make Dean laugh.

When Dean can breathe again and asks who the hell Slavoj Zizek is, Cas puts on an insane accent: “There is never a ‘right moment’ for the revolutionary act—the act is always, by definition, ‘premature.’” This sets Dean off again, and Cas laughs a little too. Dean hopes it’s his first laugh. He wants that bragging right.

Thirteen years later and one year sober, they watch it again in their living room. Jack sits on the floor working on a Hello Kitty jigsaw puzzle as he watches and Sam definitely isn’t paying attention, texting Eileen in the big armchair. Cas is falling asleep on Dean’s shoulder. Half asleep, he pulls out the Zizek impression again: “The paradox of love is that it is a free choice, but a choice which never arrives in the present—it is always already made.”

WHERE IS THE PEACE WE WERE PROMISED??!!? WHERE?!?!?

This meme is inescapable on French insta so I'm posting it here for all to enjoy

Happy 5th Birthday to

"Cooking with Sex Toys"

thinking about an evil little post-finale world (aka after dean’s death) where sam decides to take the now-human chuck on as his fucked up little self-destructive fixer upper project ala nick in season 14. chuck is human, and powerless, and abandoned the “chuck” persona a decade ago so he no longer has his house or his bank information or ID or a credit score or anything. he has nowhere to go. and sam is all alone in the bunker, with its empty rooms and echoing halls and so much hollow space it drives sam crazy. so he’s got space. he knows how to fake all the paperwork chuck will need to be a person. sam is so lonely and desperate and messed up and chuck shows up at the door, and god is asking him for forgiveness, and who cares if he really means it? sam “maybe i can fix god” winchester about to make the world’s worst decision under the guise of kindness and out of the desperation of loneliness. forgive him, he knows exactly what he’s doing. and there’s nobody left to tell him not to do it.

obsessed with the idea of a monster crashing the wedding thinking it’s a normal wedding and then like everyone is a fucking hunter

ARIEL NEEDS LEGS

I was gonna make Emmy draw this but she said no so I drew it myself.

I’ve never drawn a comic before!

edit: WATCH IN MOTION COMIC FORM

Redditgamestopwallstreet call that the new destielputinelection