NOT A HAMMER

My wings are dusted, with frost and cold

[brokendivinity]

x

[brokendivinity]

[ This blog is now an archive! Follow here for my new Cas! ]

[brokendivinity]

[ Friendly reminder that I'm not on this blog anymore! My new Cas is here! ]

[brokendivinity]

[ Alright, guys--

This blog, for all intents and purposes, is now an archive. I have a new blog for Cas, here, and you can follow or not at your discretion. ]

[mishas-assbutts]

[ssjdebusk]

this is the single gayest thing this show has done

let’s take gif one

where we have cas lightly stroking his beer bottle as he smiles and looks at Dean through his lashes (keep in mind he is supposed to be drunk)

then we have gif two

where he winks at Dean and Dean looks away from him and looks down.

and onto gif three 

where Cas clinks their bottles together and smiles 

Like Dean is 100% like “omg Cas you’re so drunk and Sam is here this is so embarrassing” because Cas is a flirty drunk and he is flirting with Dean

[brokendivinity]

[ He eyes the young woman--this perfectly ordinary person seated near him, someone he should feel exactly no inclination to engage with. ]

Hi. 

[ The pilfered Grace is roiling under his skin, but he's grown somewhat accustomed to it. Castiel has found that it's far less potent than what was once his own, doesn't quite seam with his dormant form. 

As such, there are still many aspects of humanity that the missing pieces have left him to grapple with. Hunger. Thirst. Social anxiety. ]

I'm Clar--Steve.

[brokendivinity]

Christmas music is pouring from an open door on the street. Castiel has never heard this particular song before, but the distinct jingle, reminiscent of most other token songs he's heard this season, belies what it is. The lyrics, however indiscernible, must naturally be cheery, perhaps a little nostalgic. It's a bastardized holiday, a blasphemous celebration. Not only was Jesus of Nazareth born in spring, whatever means of celebrating his existence has long since been eclipsed by the selfish expectation of presents and the image of a rotund, bearded archetype. But he likes Christmas. Confused as it was, it did press the importance of family, chosen and blood, and charity. Even the graying slush in the street looks festive, glowing modestly with the strings of lights hanging from storefronts. He wonders if they will ever reach a year when it's appropriate to celebrate.

[brokendivinity]

With his pilfered Grace, Castiel feels when the prophet ascends.

It should be a morose occasion. It should be an omen of impending defeat.

Yet somehow it isn't.

There is a parent awaiting his arrival. There is Joshua at the entrance to the Garden, lips parted with gratitude and congratulations. There are the others--some the boy will have heard of, surely, in song and story, and some that will surprise him. All who will understand. 

And Kevin Tran will be with God.

[goredviscera]

[dirtyovercoats]

[brokendivinity]

ALMOST HUMAN AU // DEAN/CAS

The year is 2048, and after waking up from a 17-month coma, Dean Winchester can’t remember much about the botched mission that put him there. Suffering from both a mixture of PTSD and depression, and adjusting to a new prosthetic limb, he returns to work as a police officer only to be assigned a new partner, a synthetic by the name of Castiel, who was once benched as well for having a “crack in his chassis”—that is, a robot with the predisposition to feel. 

[brokendivinity]

This Grace isn't his.

Of course, that is fairly obvious. But it isn't as seamless, as clean, as merely borrowing a jacket--or even, perhaps more appropriately, an organ transplant. 

It is messy and uncomfortably undulous inside him--refusing to sew to his essence, warring with him ceaselessly. Yearning for the angel it is tailored to. 

Just a temporary fix, Castiel assures himself. He will find some way to rid himself of the invasion when it no longer proves useful.

And hopefully before it rends him apart.

[brokendivinity]

Was I allowed to call you? I can't remember.

[ He's using the phone under the counter--an outdated device with a cord so short he's required to sit on the unswept linoleum in order to use it. 

Ordinarily, he would leave Deanna to herself, but he needs to speak honestly with someone. Just this once. ]

[catsiel]

[brokendivinity]

reputable said: outoftime. ( SIGHS WITH THE INTENSITY OF A THOUSAND SUNS. )

deen have you even read them hop off my dick

[brokendivinity]

I think I prefer Jacob as a love interest. His devotion isn't underscored with as much deep-rooted misogyny.

[ He discovered a waterlogged pile of the Twilight saga in the back room, and has unashamedly devoured it. ]

[brokendivinity]

All about him that was once so omniscient, so transcendant--as recently as moments before Metatron slit it from his throat, beautiful despite his transgressions--is still there. Once he had countless limbs. Undulous, each one representing a different leg of creation, of what Castiel himself witnessed. They weigh him to the earth now, rooted irreversibly to where he fell. He wonders, if he walks far enough, will these tethers break? His feathers are gangrenous and slick with rot. His halo is a chokehold. And yet, he is content.

[brokendivinity]

Castiel affected the forced, gummy smile his employer encouraged. 

It wasn't that he was resentful of customers, but that he was standing on feet that had gone numb hours ago. 

"How can I help you today?"