#sacripent

[shieldeus-moved]

is everything not an option????? ok ok i'd have to say your writing!!! it's just so beautiful and unearthly and really fits castiel so well like? you're incapable of writing anything that isn't gorgeous and poetic and i think your style really brings out cas's ~~otherness~~

what did i do to deserve you!

  WHAT IS ONE THING YOU LIKE ABOUT THE WAY I PLAY MY CHARACTER?

[huntsworn-a]

@sacripent        ///        sc.

❛               your  wings     ...               ❜         it  is  delicate  ,     he  thinks  ,     to  be  speaking  of  such  a  thing  .     THE  FALL  AFFECTED  HIM  ,     DIDN'T  IT  ?     inquisitiveness     &&     curiosity  embedded  into  mind  ,     gifted  intellect  deemed  unknown  waiting  to  be  known  ,     for  emotions              who  is  he  to  have  a  say  in  that  ?              to  lay  bare  .     is  scrutiny  all  right  even  after  all  this  time  ?

❛               can  you  still  use  them  ?      or  ,     well  ,     do  you  STILL  HAVE  THEM  ?     you  don't  have  to  answer  ,     but     ...     i  was  just  wondering  about  it  .              ❜

[hellsloyal]

what caused ruby to develop such affection for the winchesters?

if     this     question     were     to     be     asked     to     ruby     directly               ,               she’d     ignore     it     fully.               she     doesn’t     like     showing     vulnerability     towards     anyone               ,               not     after     the     only     person     she               truly     cared     about               watched     her     die.               the     first     of     the     brothers     she     started     to               care               about     was               sam.               their     conversations     and     complicity     when     it     came     to               saving     dean               was     one     of     the     deal     breakers.               it     reminded     her     of     wanting     to     save     her     daughter               ,               of     wanting     to     spare     her     from     lilith’s     grasp     whenever     she     could     even     though               ruby               was     the     one     that     was     going     to     die.               it     was     more     towards     the     end               ,               when     dean’s               year               was     near     and     ruby     could               see               &               sense               both     of     the     brothers     fear     of     losing     one     another     that     she     started     to               really               feel     bad     and     get     attached.               it     was     one     of     the     reasons               why               she     managed     to     escape     her     body     when     lilith     took     her     meatsuit     over               ;               so     she     could     watch     over     sam     even     though     she     couldn’t     make     it     known     she     wasn’t     dead.               with               dean               it     was     a     little     more     complicated     and     tricky.               they’re     like     cat               &               mouse               ,               and     most     of     the     time     ruby     just     wants     to               punch               him     in     the     face               ,               but               ,               she     can     also               relate               to     him     in     more     ways     than     one.               giving     up     his     life     for     someone     he     cares     about               ,               just     like     she     did     for     her     daughter.               the               exact     moment               she     started     to               actually     care               about     dean               (               she     will     never     admit     this     out     loud               )               was     in     the     parking     lot     of     the     motel.               when     he     asked     her     why     she     wanted     them     to     win.               that     conversation               was     what     caused     her     to     really     think     that     maybe     dean               &               ruby     weren’t     so     different     after     all.               when     she     said               i’m     sorry     ,     dean.               i     wouldn’t     wish     this     upon     my     worst     enemy.               it     wasn’t     lilith     speaking               ,               it     was     ruby.               because               she     witnessed     it               ,               she     remembers     what     being     ripped     apart     by     hellhounds     was     like.               and     she     never     did     wish     it     upon     anyone     else.               in     short     :               her     humanity               ,               the     resemblance     between     both     her     and     the     brothers               &               the     fact     that     despite     it     all               ,               there     was     still               some     sort     of     bond               ,               albeit     small     or     just     merely     there               ,               was     what     causes     her     to     have     such     an     affection     towards     them.               and     she’s               actually     proud               of     the     two     of     them               ,               and     hey               ,               maybe     willing     to     stop     by     once     in     awhile     if     they     promise     not     to     kill     her               again.

[waywardfeathered]

▼ : Are there popular head canons for your character that you disagree with? Why?

rp meme // @sacripent​

considering my portrayal comes more from my own interprations of cas than fanon, because i literally only entered this fandom last spring, most likely yeah. i don’t even know what’s actually popular but… some things i’ve seen?

a big one most of my fandom friends disagree with: i think cas is a dom/sub switch (omg i made this sexual in three seconds… sorry). fans i talk to mostly hc cas pretty aggressively as a dom. but i have. thought about this a lot, and i think his sub side is important, and i’ve written a hc post about why.

i don’t think cas had any kind of a childhood, i think he was created ageless and pre-programmed. which is also why he… doesn’t really get older? he’s ageless, not old. even though i do use the word old in threads for convenience’s sake. i wanted some major things in his life to differ from how humanity generally experiences life.

the way i hc cas’s wings is more or less entirely my own hcs. i don’t think it actually is a thing that i disagree with when it comes to popular hcs, in the end? the main thing being that in their true form, they aren’t actually wings in the sense humans understand the word. he can manifest them on earth but that’s a three-dimensional manifestation and doesn’t even begin to reveal their true form. which is something that can’t even be talked about in any human language. his wings exist in more dimensions than just three and humans literally cannot imagine outside of three dimensions!

edit: also, i mean, most fans probably agree that cas is more emotional than the other angels? but i think he’s highly emotional on human standards as well. he just doesn’t always show it well. doesn’t know how to process it.

(but these are my hcs. i love it that other people have different hcs. and see him differently. i’m not better than anyone else.)

[markedkiller]

@sacripent​

“where are my goddamn cigarettes?”

    the   night   is   cold   and   dry   ,    dead   leaves   scratching   at   the   asphalt   as   a   sharp   wind   drags   them   along   the   ground   .      there ’ s   a   heaviness   in   castiel ’ s   bones   ,    another   weight   he   knows   he   will   carry   with   him   until   the   judgment   day   .      beyond   ,    perhaps   .      and   he   know   dean   must   feel   the   same   .      cas   looks   over   ,    sees   the   way   dean ’ s   shoulders   drop   ,    as   though   invisible   hands   are   pushing   him   down   .     HUMBLING   HIM   .      he   blinks   ,    looks   away   .      the   concrete   of   the   curb   is   icy   ,    its   chill   seeping   through   the   fabric   of   his   pants   and   stabbing   frigid   fingers   into   his   tired   flesh   .      it ’ s   fitting   ,    he   thinks   .      it   would   be   harder   if   it   were   sunny   and   warm   .      at   least   the   weather   mourns   with   them   .

      dean ’ s   voice   is   brusque   ,    HARDENED   .      castiel   can   hear   the   pain   that   lurks   beneath   the   anger   and   frustration   ,    like   a   color   that   shifts   and   changes   when   held   up   to   the   light   .      wordlessly   ,    castiel   rummages   in   his   own   jacket   .      he   wraps   his   fingers   around   the   smooth   cardboard   box   ,    withdrawing   it   from   his   pocket   and   flipping   the   top   open   .      he   pulls   out   two   slender   cigarettes   and   wordlessly   passes   one   to   dean   .      the   other   he   sticks   between   chapped   lips   ,    pocketing   the   box   again   and   withdrawing   his   lighter   .     the   flame   is   warm   and   bright   against   the   darkness  ,    and   it   catches   on   the   paper   quickly   .      he   inhales   deeply   ,    passing   the   lighter   to   dean   without   meeting   his   gaze   .      the   smoke   scratches   the   back   of   his   throat   ,    his   lungs   .      he   holds   it   there   for   a   moment   before   exhaling   in   a   steady   breath   .      “     it   wasn ’ t   your   fault   ,    dean   .     ”

     if  it  wasn’t  dean’s  fault,    then  whose  was  it    ??    there’s  not  a  very  long  list  of  people  to  blame    —-    there’s  him,    cas,    and  then  the  big  man  upstairs.    only    HE    knows  the  blame  falls  on  anyone  else  besides   HIMSELF.    the  weight  comes  cascading  down  from  heaven,    landing  always    squarely    on  dean’s  back,    growing  exponentially  with  time,    to  the  point  he’s    frightened    he  might    break    in  half.    but  who  else  will  carry  the  pain    ??    who  else  shall  remember  the  look  of    TERROR    in  the  children’s  eyes,    that  split  second  before  a  demon  decides  to  rip  their  body  apart,    limb  from  limb,    inside  out,    without  permission.    tiny  bodies  uncomprehending  the  torture  they’re  put  through.    why    —-    they  haven’t  a  fucking  clue.  

     tonight  had  been  a  twelve  year  old  girl.    a  graveyard  of  photos  already  like  a  shinning  monument  on  the  way  down  to  her  room.    her  parents  had  tied  her  down  long  before  their  arrival,    and  when  bright  black  eyes  had  greeted  them,    filthy  demon  smiling  up  at  them  through  bitten  raw  lips  and  spit  out  teeth,    the  second  they  lost  her,    dean  had mourned  the  child  who  never stood  a  chance.    who  was    anyone,    child  of  god  or  not,    if    HE    allowed  such  monstrous  atrocities  to  happen.    a  cigarette  does  nothing  to  quell  the  pain  in  his  heart,    the  harrowed  sadness  grasping  dark  claws  in  his  heart  when  he  hears  the  child  had  never  been  baptized.    a  soul  bound  to  hell  that  they  couldn’t  save.    it’s  not  his  fault    —-    but   he    FAILED    anyway.            ❝     doesn’t  feel  that  way.     ❞      

the  concrete  below  them  is   unforgiving,    but  he  likes  it  that  way.    as  if  he’s  being  punished.    the  smoke  in  his  lungs  does  little  to  console  his  weeping  soul,    but  it’s  better  than  nothing  on such  a  frigid  night,    silently,    dean  sends  a  prayer,    even  if  it  falls  onto  deaf  ears.            ❝     i  don’t  know  how  many  more  children  we  can  loose  before  i go  mad.     ❞            the  tears  gather  in  corners  first,    breaking  away  moments  later,    where  they  freeze  silently  against  warm  cheeks.    the  lighter  is  handed  back,    fingers  unable  to  hide  the  shaking  they  make  as  they  reach  for  the  burning  paper  between  his  own  lips.    if  you  asked  him  twelve  years  ago  where  he  had  seen  himself  now,    this  wasn’t  the  place.            ❝     they’re  getting  stronger.    stronger  than me.     ❞      

[righteusa]

“that’s the price you’ll pay.”

@sacripent  sent in florence + the machine  ||  ACCEPTING !

               LABOR MARKED !        aching muscles crumbling bones  ,  the way a SOUL dies !    quietly  ,  softly  ,  tender silver mercies.   wind chapped skin    —-   there is a poetry in unrelenting efficiency.      EXHAUSTION      in the curve of a strong wrist, the line of a crooked knuckle  ,        YOU NEED NOT COMPLETE THE WORK !         but oh, oh !   that does not mean you are free to stop.      GIVING UP   /   GIVING IN        what’s in a name ?  that  which we call   winchester   would    FIGHT    as long.    exhaustion-lined !  creased with   carelessness  ,   CAVITY OF THE SOUL !     rotting away until they reach the nerve ending  ,  the live wire. caught in the amber of the moment, time stands     STILL.     the greedy thing it is    ——- what is there left to take ?  life given, life lost, life, life, living,  when last did you worship the warmth of the sun on your face ?   HOLY MARKED !    we do not go to church to pray   ——   but to daydream about god.      and what does he see behind tired eyes ?      (   tired smiles of family still breathing  ,   unable even in pretend to see peace.   )   

the way a star dies   !       CELESTIAL BODY      caught in the moment of    collapse   ,   the way the wind whips at the sands     —–    content to erode the ground from beneath your feet    one grain at a time.    your pain sounds like a coyote scream in the night   ,   YOUR PAIN   :   a primal animal savageness built up in the cage of your chest  ,   the way a man drifts.    eyes shut tight on hard-edged words  ,  fingers clenched in palms flushed red   —–     pressed white.      skin littered with the scars of a life lived  ,   mind littered with a pastel sadness.

 who you have become to survive is not all you are.      what you have created in grief is not your     legacy.    the sun is an angry   ,    blinding   ,   light and somewhere in hazy memory dean thinks of windows blown out.     BROKEN GLASS ON OLD TAR ROADS ,   sun bleached and weathered.      the way the mirage of summer had rippled in the stale air.       GRAVEYARD SOIL       stained history   ,   the way colored glass casts shadows in hallowed cathedrals.  

shoulders back  ,  chin up.   soldiers rest.   as if his last name wasn’t a mantle bearing him down to the floor.    ATLAS . SISYPHUS.   which is worse  ?   the weight or the climb  ?  which is heavier the world or it’s sins ?   fingers curl into a fist  ,  teeth grit.  a lifetime of bad credit and an empty wallet.   cards bearing names not his own.  his debts have a title.  emblazoned in bold.  FATHER.  o’ heavenly father hallowed be thy name.  MICHAEL or DEAN  did it matter ?  fingers spasmed as knuckles showed white.  

hadn’t he paid enough  ?

“          it’s the only way.   it’s all we got     left.    “    his laugh is hallow.  his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, speaks volumes.  if the volumes said:  exhaustion,  hopelessnes, compassion. if they said   human.    human.    human.     “    besides.  sammy got his turn to go to prom. what’s a little slow-dance with michael compared to   that ?   “

[markedkiller]

@sacripent

          ❝     alright   ----   okay.     ❞          hopping  from  the  ball  of  his  left  foot  to  his  right,   dean  smirks  with  slight  delight,   despite  the  fact  that  he’s  mostly  out  of  breath  before  they’ve  even  started.   going  for  something  a  little  new,   it  had  been  his  idea  to  start  up  a   fight  club.   kind  of.   at  least,   that’s  what  dean’s  calling  it.   it’s  more  like  practice  than  anything  else,   but  the  name  is  cooler  like  this   ----   and  dean  could  really  use  another  person  besides  the  punching  bag  hanging  from  the  ceiling  of  the  bunkers  gym.   he’s  tired  of  getting  his  ass  handed  to  him  by  stupid  demons,   and  cas  is  a  better  matched  opponent  than  sam.   also,   sam  said  no,   so.          ❝     i’m  ready   ----   try  and  hit  me.     ❞

[markedkiller]

@sacripent

        sitting with a popped tired on the side of a long stretch of road, waiting.

they’re on the way to nevada,  of all places,  to answer the frantic call of a worried mother.  she’d left a message for them on both numbers during their last case  .  .  .  so wherever she got her reference from,  it’s legit.  the way things had been described,  the chill in her voice,  the dead silence of background noise,  he doesn’t think they’ve got enough time.  whatever’s possessing her daughter,  if anything at all,  will probably take hold long before they arrive.  that’s the worst part about it,  isn’t it though  ?  that half the time they’re there too late.  the soul of the innocent,  too past  corrupted  to be saved.

the tire blew,  and while dean knows how to fix it  —-  he’d been traveling without a spare.  a tow is on the way,  and he’s not sure if he’s more frantic from the idea of not making it on time,  or his baby getting jacked up on a truck,  knowing full well no one can treat her the way she deserves.  biting the skin of his thumb,  tense body leaning back against the passenger side door,  dean looks to cas.          ❝     you think one of us should try an hitchhike  ? ❞          by this,  he means the other to offer up himself.  there’s no way dean can be expected to leave his baby like this.          ❝     whatever head start we can get on that girl  .  .  ..   ❞          but it’s wishful thinking at  best.  they both know she’s already doomed.