I'm so fucking tired of Olivia Rodrigo. She has so much potential as an artist but she doesn't write interesting lyrics and her stuff is SO derivative and not in the good way. If you want to listen to her then listen to Billie eilish and paramore. I think she has a lot of potential in the future but rn the hype is just too much
me, an olivia rodrigo fan, nodding my head tensely: okay! valid points! i can agree the lyrics are sometimes ehhhhh but also haven’t we all been 18 and heartbroken can’t we all find some relatability to “you didn’t cheat but you’re still a traitor” ??? Also I wish she had kept the lyric “I’m an angel and the devil but you’re always a good man” in one of her songs like OLIVIA PLEASE!!!!
Part one of a new canon divergent series, “A Sacrament to Be Taken Kneeling”
Summary: the opening dialogue to the eucharistic prayer, or anaphora, translated to english means “lift up your hearts”, and is the beginning of a devout worshipper’s holy communion with god
Canon divergent from 6x22, this one is rated M for religious blasphemy, power dynamics, and mature subject matter (later installments will be rated E for violence, sexual content, and graphic depictions of blood). Honestly this is just a fucked up exploration of the catholicnatural that could have been if the spn writers hadn’t been cowards and had instead really leaned into the whole Godstiel thing, and his dynamic with Dean. I’m going to hell for this and you know what? That’s just fine with me.
It can be read here or in AO3! Enjoy <3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Castiel was brighter than the sun, and he was beautiful. He was the most terrifying thing Dean had ever seen, because somewhere in there, he could still see Cas, the old Cas. He let Crowley go. Dean was going to kill that demon, but- later. Later, when they got out of here and got Sammy put back together.
Then Castiel blew Raphael up with nothing more than a snap of his fingers, and their most formidable adversary, after all these months, was suddenly just a bloody smear on the wall. The last Apocalyptic threat, gone, just like that, leaving Dean and Bobby alone with a Cas-gone-nuclear.
They were so, so fucked.
Cas looked over to Dean, his face softening incrementally but still distinctly smug.
"So you see," he said, turning away from Dean and moving as if to inspect his explosive handiwork, "I saved you."
Dean Winchester is saved.
“You sure did, Cas,” Dean said faintly, drifting further into Cas’s orbit as if somehow compelled. Castiel didn’t acknowledge him, keeping his back turned, his spine ramrod straight. Damage control. Holy fucking shit, damage control right now. “Thank you.”
“You doubted me. Fought against me.” He slowly turned to face Dean, a mockery of their first meeting in that rundown barn years ago, tilting his head the same way, his blue eyes the same limitless color and just as mesmerizing, but somehow about a million times more unsettling. “But I was right all along.”
Dean’s stomach swooped. “Okay, Cas, you were. We’re sorry,” he added quickly, his breath shallow and shaky. “Now let’s just defuse you, okay?” he suggested, the words cumbersome and heavy in his mouth.
Cas narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly before relaxing again. “What do you mean?” he asked icily.
Dean forged on desperately. “You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe, so before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.” Oh, he felt like he was going to be sick. Please, Cas, please just listen to me…
“Oh, no, they belong with me,” Cas countered, his tone almost patronizing, like he was speaking to a child.
“No, Cas,” Dean interrupted before his brain or his fear could catch up to him. “It’s- it’s scrambling your brain.”
“No, I’m not finished yet,” he said firmly, with the ghost of a cold smile tugging on his features. “Raphael had many followers, and I must-” Cas paused, choosing his words, “punish them all severely,” he finished deliberately.
Bobby’s eyes darted over to Dean. He was visibly horrified.
Okay. One last effort. Okay.
Dean shoved down his fear and tried again. “Listen to me.” He stepped closer to Cas, swallowing hard as his voice fought to stick in his throat and looking steadily into his eyes. “Listen- I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge. But we were family, once,” he pleaded. “I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times.” Castiel’s face remained impassive but Dean continued. “So if that means anything to you- please,” he begged, abandoning his pride. “I’ve lost Lisa, I’ve lost Ben, and now I’ve lost Sam. Don’t make me lose you too.”
Castiel wrenched his eyes away from Dean’s and cast his gaze down to the floor between them. Was he considering it?
“You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas,” he tried to reason. “Get rid of it before it kills us all.”
A beat.
“You’re just saying that because I won,” Cas mused, raising his gaze back up to look at Dean again, pinning him there like a specimen under a microscope. “Because you’re afraid . You’re not my family, Dean,” he said, closing the remaining distance between them until he stood less than an arm’s reach away, positively radiating power, the air vibrating with it. “You’re just… human.”
His eyes lingered on Dean’s face, tracing his freckles, his eyelashes. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it. Castiel’s face hardened into stone, his next words iron. “I have no family.”
The words rang in Dean’s ears, banging about his brain and battering it into despair. It felt like a small death, his heart pulling on his ribs as he floundered for a new angle to pursue.
And then Sam was there, behind Castiel, and he just stabbed him with an angel blade, and Cas was swaying just a bit with the blade still stuck in his back as Sam gasped for air behind him, clearly distressed and stumbling backwards.
Dean froze, horrified.
What the FUCK were you thinking, Sam?
But- oh. Oh god.
Cas wasn’t dead. It didn’t work. His brain buzzed blankly with a static-y sensation of bewilderment as Cas reached around himself and pulled out the blade- shiny, clean, utterly free of blood- with an alarming squelching noise.
"I'm glad you made it, Sam," Cas said in a distressingly level voice, placing the newly-extricated angel blade on the table in front of him before turning to glance at Sam. “But the angel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore,” he said, matter-of-fact as could be, as if he hadn’t just dropped yet another massive bomb on their lives. Sam looked to Bobby, his eyes wide, and Bobby shrugged back minutely, similarly floored.
Look at me, Cas, leave Sammy alone, you’ve done enough-
As if he heard Dean’s thoughts- fuck, was he praying?- Castiel turned back to Dean and met his eyes. “I’m your new God,” he said, with an air of authority and immense self-satisfaction permeating his words. “A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”
Bobby’s eyes widened in the periphery of Dean’s vision as time seemed to swirl and slow down to a crawl- clearly, he hadn’t expected this either.
Sammy was strung out and swaying on his feet behind Cas, his eyes darting and rolling over the room as he rode out the hellish things that tormented him in his head, seemingly incapable of reacting to the gravity of the situation as what Cas had done put him out of his mind with fear.
In the span of a heartbeat, Dean made his choice. He had no choice.
He fell to his knees.
The crack of bone on hard tile was near agony. His gun clattered uselessly to the ground beside him as he shifted his gaze to land somewhere around the hem of Castiel’s coat. He couldn’t look at his face. Couldn’t meet his eyes. It was almost impossible to believe the terrifying figure before him was once his closest friend, and had saved him from Heaven and Hell alike before he had turned into whatever this was.
His throat was dry. He forced himself to swallow, drawing his tongue over his bottom lip as he tried to find the right words.
Bobby started to kneel, too. Survival instincts, probably. He’d have never gotten this old without them, anyway.
“My lord,” he began hesitantly.
The new God waved his hand dismissively at the title. “Castiel.”
“Castiel,” Dean corrected himself. Great start, you fuck up. “Cas, I swore my obedience to Heaven, once. To God, and his angels. To you,” his voice cracked as he risked a glance at the former angel. His eyes were like fire. Glowing. Unreal.
Bobby interrupted: “Dean, no-”
But Castiel snapped up a hand, palm out, and Bobby’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. “You will be silent,” Castiel ordered, his eyes never leaving Dean. He looked intrigued by Dean’s sudden compliance and admission. “I’d like to hear what you have to say, Dean. What can you possibly say to justify your lack of faith in me up until now? I could have cast you back into the pit, and Sam, too, had I not done this, all of it, for you.”
“I know you did, Cas,” Dean said. “Thank you. I- thank you. You were right, about everything, and I should have listened to you. I was wrong. I should have trusted you.” The words tasted like poison in his mouth. A part of him meant it. A part of him was just desperate enough to say anything. The rest of him wanted to see the cold monster in front of him dead. But how could he turn back now, without sentencing them all to death? If he played his cards right, he might even be able to save Castiel. Surely if he could get him to let go of those souls, he’d start to see reason, would be Cas again. But he was getting ahead of himself. Gotta think a little more short-term, right now. Band-aids and duct tape, not trauma surgery.
“I was blind,” Dean said, “and proud. I took you for granted, and I can do better. Be better. For- for you.”
He had never felt so weak. Groveling to his dad was different. He was his dad’s son, sure, but there was no love there. It was all survival, clinical, even his rage and his fists when Dean didn’t do enough to earn his mercy were detached. Duty and discipline and disappointment. This was different. It was hot with near-tears, messy and filled with grief for a man who wasn’t even dead. He wasn’t lying earlier when he told Cas he was like a brother to him. It was the closest comparison he had for what the angel was to his heart. He had never needed anyone like he needed Castiel- because he wasn’t Sammy, or Bobby, or Lisa, or Ben, or Cassie, or any other category of need. He was just Cas. And Dean wanted him in his life. Or he used to, anyway.
“I don’t know what I can do to make it right between us, Cas,” he said, his throat tightening slightly. “But I want to,” Dean offered, looking down in shame. “I want to be-” he choked out.
“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asked, taking another step forward, the very picture of authority and control. One more step and Dean could reach out and touch him. The air was electric, heady with power as it positively radiated from his body.
He lifted his head to meet Castiel’s eyes in a pose of supplication, his knees aching, his eyes burning with tears as the situation started to overwhelm him. “I want to be forgiven,” he gasped out. “Cas, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive us.”
“And Sam’s betrayal?” Castiel inquired, casting new fear into Dean’s heart. “He stabbed me in the back. And he has not knelt as you have. Why should I offer him mercy?” he mused.
“Look at him, Cas,” Dean said quietly. Sam was hunched over on the floor in the corner, holding his head in his hands, rocking slightly into the wall and pushing off of it again in a strange repetitive motion. “He can’t follow any of this. I don’t think he even knows where we are. It’s been getting worse as time passes. He was slightly more coherent an hour ago, but-” Dean shook his head. “I think he was just trying to protect me. I don’t think he even knew who you were, just- saw a threat and tried to take it out.”
Cas made a noncommittal little noise, glancing over to where Sam had retreated.
“Cas,” Dean said, drawing his attention back to himself. “He didn’t know what he was doing. Can you try to forgive him that?” he pleaded as the first tear escaped and ran down his cheek.
“And in return?”
“Anything,” Dean swore. “Just- Cas, please. I’ll do anything. I will, I swear it. Just please help Sammy.”
“It won’t be as easy as you think,” Castiel warned. “I want your trust, Dean. I want the bond we once had, and your submission to my better judgement, untainted by your... fear.” His voice turned hungry, reminiscent of when they worked that killer Cupid case last year and it turned out to be Famine. To be on the receiving end of desire of that magnitude was by turns exhilarating and horrifying. “I want your love.”
“Cas,” Dean said faintly, unable to tear his eyes away from his friend’s face even as Bobby attempted to fight his holy gag order from his place next to him. “I… I’ll try. For you,” he added, trying to add a note or resolve to his voice as his thoughts roared in fear and grappled with the idea, stuck on the precipice of this terrible new unknown he had run up against. But he truly had no choice. Sink or swim.
“I swear, Cas,” he said, raising his hand to his heart, “I’ll try.”
Castiel’s eyes softened. They stopped glowing.
Suddenly, for a moment, he looked just like himself. More than that, he looked heartbreakingly human.
He moved suddenly, sending Dean’s heart sprinting again for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
But he didn’t hurt him. He didn’t hurt Sam, or smite Bobby, or engage in any sort of holy wrath. He just kneeled, in front of Dean, and clasped his clammy hands briefly in his own warm, dry ones before shifting them both to his right hand and raising his right palm to Dean’s cheek, his eyes darting over his features with an air of disbelieving gratitude. It was so...
Castiel had lovely hands, Dean noticed. Strong, soft, and broad, with a gentle grip and long, agile fingers. So different from Dean’s own hands, already scarred from the last few years of wear and tear since his resurrection. Of course, he’d noticed before. Noticed that sort of thing about Castiel, how he used his hands to fight, to pray, to eat and to comfort, how they looked drenched in blood and how they looked at rest. How they looked striking a blow to his own face, and how they looked when he healed him. They were one of a million things Dean knew about him better than he knew himself.
“Oh, Dean,” he said softly, “That’s all I ask of you. Just try. Lift up your heart to me, and I will give you everything.”
Dean inhaled sharply, his chest tight as he leaned into the touch. "It's yours," he breathed out, "It's all yours, Cas."
Castiel smiled, and the world fell away.
Tagging in some people who I think might be interested, just dm me to be added or removed: @castieljew @dependsupon @autisticandroids @sunforgrace @heller-jensen @lateral-org @cactuscas @adhdeancas @icaruscastiel @holmesemrys @evermorecastiel @yana125 @faithcastiel @good-things-do-happen-dean @i-sing-for-me @whatevr-4evr @sonder-stars @jeanne-de-valois
Trans Dean headcanons? Okay!!! (This is also fem!sam because sister dynamics)
Dean doesn't come out to himself until after John dies. Sure, he only wore clothes that flattened or completely hid his chest. Sure, he kept his hair short. And maybe he got a little rush of joy when the cashier at the gas n sip called him 'sir'. But that could be true of anyone.
Sammy had been the one to say it. "We can do whatever we want now," she said, shaking the salt onto the funeral pyre. "He's not gonna be here to stop us."
Dean is quiet, breathing slowly through his nose. The smoke burns his lungs as he turns the thought over in his mind...
(This got long oops)
Oh my god I saw this in my inbox this morning but haven’t been able to get to it till now and it’s so amazing!
Imagine the brothers saving up to buy binders together because the improper methods they used to use hurt and they want each other to be comfortable.
When they finaly come out to Bobby and right away he starts calling them his boys and that always brings a rush of pride and warmth in Dean’s chest.
Cas, the genderless being he is, comfroting Dean and helping him with dysphoria after John’s old hunting pals misgender and deadname him...
There are just so many amazing possiblities!
If anyone has any more please, please share! I love to hear your ideas!
Re: all these asks, look into attachment styles! Cas is anxious and Dean is avoidant. I'm both and I flip flop between desperately trying to earn affection from my emotionally distant crushes and cutting all ties when I don't get any because CONSISTENCY IS FOR LOSERS
i’ve never put too much stock in attachment styles, they always seem a bit like the fun new self-help book trend that doesn’t actually mean anything, but hm.
which spn plotline do you wish they spent more time on?
GOSH. there’s so many.... i think the four horsemen. like they were a BIG part of season 5, obviously, and then Death kinda outlasted that plotline but i think that was one arc where i was THIRSTY for more lore and more character. like, other than Death, we only really got like one, maybe two, episodes with each other them which i GET but......i dunno if Death got to be a lasting force on the show and actually function more as a Grim Reaper/Charon figure than it feels like the other three could have been mapped onto large ideological characters as well in a way that could have made for some COOL Big Bad in later seasons (like, imagine a world where SucroCorp had ties to Famine, where the Mark of Cain was spurred on by War, where Pestilence adapted to Sam’s demon blood addiction. the possibilities are RIFE - and then we could have recurring baddies that AREN’T Lucifer. AND they could play into the same kinda morality as Death - they’re not bad, they’re necessary for balance.)
