“i bless you and adore you”
your nightly dose of destiel angst, with a slapdash podfic to match. ;w;
~~~
Dean,
I am not strong enough to send you more than this. Even I am not certain how, exactly, this will come to you—as a thought in your mind, as a note left on your room doorstep by a passing blessed stranger, as an email without an address on Sam’s laptop. It could be any of these, or it could be none at all, but know that I am speaking, and that I speak to you.
I am very weak. I have seen every plane of existence imaginable and yet I could not tell you where I am as I send these words to you. All I know is that I am cold and starved and waiting, although I could not tell you what I am waiting for. Perhaps I am waiting for God. Perhaps I am waiting for you.
Above all things in this place, above the chill and the impatience, I feel sadness. I am sad for many things, and regret them—I regret not trusting you, not speaking to you, hurting Sam, betraying you all, opening doors I should have left closed, but above all, Dean, I am sad because I feel, somehow, wherever I am, that you are lost.
You know exactly where you are, I am sure, as you always have. You know the address of your motel and your room number, and you know where your brother is, but you have lost something. You have lost your faith, and it was small enough to begin with.
You have lost your faith that I will find you again.
When you pray I am sure you think it is a lost cause, that because I cannot answer it with myself I do not hear it, but I hear every word, Dean. You pray like a drowning man, desperate and faded, but I hear every word, and I always have. That, at least, has not changed. And you are so sad, and so scared, and so angry, that I cannot help but feel every sword in your heart ten times over in my own. Sometimes I pray to you, though I know that you cannot hear me. My prayers mean nothing; they are weak and pointless. But to these words I give all my strength, and I want to tell you something.
Know this, Dean: that though I am not there with you, I can always hear you. That though I am bodiless and weightless, I can feel you, like a glow at the edge of the world, just out of my reach.
That though I cannot see you, cannot touch your face to smoothe away your nightmares, cannot breathe calm into your lungs, cannot whisper away your vices and your fear, cannot tell you how deeply I am sorry, how deeply I miss you and adore you and love you, I can promise you that I am coming home.
Never doubt that one day, however long or distant it may be from here and now, I will see you again. I will touch your face and breathe with you, and I will tell you everything I could not say in those instants before I vanished. I will tell you that I missed you, and that I am proud of you, and that I love you—that I love you more than I have ever loved anything save my Father, that I love you enough to lay down my life until the ends of the earth for you, that I love you so deeply I am swallowed by it. I will tell you this, and you will smile, or shrug it off, or send me away, or simply stare at me in the way you always used to stare. Any one will do, because every one will be yours and yours alone.
Pray, Dean. Your prayers are the lullabies that give me rest and your prayers are the stories I’ve missed and your prayers are stars in this darkness. Pray and know that I am here, and that I am following your voice back home.
Until then, I kiss you from the aether, and I cast the demons from your dreams, and I send you a dark and a dreamless sleep. I bless you and adore you.
May all your prayers fly swift to me, to roost here with me as I wait.
With all that I am, I love you.
- Castiel
but you were the roof above [podfic, dean & cas]
these questions you ask, i scarcely know how to answer. breathing? yes, i suppose, in shuddered, short cadences that denote a heaviness on my chest. drowning? define liquid as liquor and perhaps we might say so, or catalog the blood stains on my fingers and wonder if its collective mass could not scare you into shadow. they certainly have for me.
[once upon a time i crept into anna’s askbox anonymously with a prosaic prayer from cas. she answered as dean. i kept all those messages and felt they should be spoken.]reblogging because most people were in bed when i posted this last night c:
let the last thing i hear be your voice - scene [dean winchester, destiel]
and i just remember sitting in the kitchen of the house we were squatting in, waiting for cas to heal or die or i don’t know, and trying to, I don’t know, drown myself in whiskey or something, and sam—sam came in and he just kinda looked at me and said, it’s happening, dean.
it’s over.
◘
and if you wanna be cliché and kiss me at sunset at the grand canyon, well, we’ll do that too, we’ll do anything you want, you just can’t go to sleep on me, okay?
(via profoundlyunbound)
#THIS BROKE ME #I AM CRYING UNCONTROLLABLY HERE #WELP #GROSS SOBBING #destiel #podfic
THE OWNER OF THIS BLOG SUPPORTS THE PURGATORY STORYLINE. YES, THE OWNER OF THIS BLOG WANTS SAM AND DEAN APART FOR A WHILE. Why? BECAUSE THIS IS CALLED CHARACTER GROWTH.
- Furthermore, the owner of this blog will ignore the #silentmajority campaign, because it is ridiculous to claim you speak for more than half of the fandom. Proof? No, proof, so change your title, please.
- Yes, this blog ships Dean and Castiel with the force of a thousand burning suns. Have a problem with that? I don’t care.
- No, this blog doesn’t hate Sam. In fact, the owner of this blog loves Sam and acknowledges that Supernatural is the story of two brothers. The owner enjoys their bond immensely. That doesn’t mean the monster-of-week format works anymore. Because it doesn’t. Proof, season 7.
- Supernatural is not season 1/2 anymore. Get over it. A show needs to progress and not regress.
- The owner of this blog appreciates and loves almost all side-characters, respects their character development and doesn’t want them to be treated like tools for the plot.
- The owner of this blog thinks Castiel is just as important as Sam and Dean. In fact, the owner supports Team Free Will.
- The owner of this blog wants a Dean-centric season where he gets the chance to be involved with the myth arc regardless of how much his brother or other characters are involved. Dean needs a chance to heal. He needs a chance to be independent. He needs a chance to shine.
- No, the owner of this blog does NOT believe Dean’s entire existence revolves around taking care of his brother. And Sam doesn’t believe it either, as seen below.
sauntering vaguely downward: freckledmoose: cakeandspankings: Silent Majority? LOLgreenamberblue:...
cakeandspankings: Silent Majority? LOL
ionlyshipthegoodstuff:I’m calling bullshit on this new fan project.
The only thing you fans are upset about is that Dean is with Castiel. This isn’t…
If Tom Hiddleston was actually my boyfriend
- Me: Can you do it one more time?
- Tom: No
- Me: Please?
- Tom: No
- Me: PLEASE. JUST ONCE MORE.
- Tom: *sigh* okay
- Me: ..........
- Tom: Kneel before me...
- Me: ASHGIADHGIOEHWSIOGHIOSGHEDASGEASHS. AGAIN.
Let’s make Dean in gym shorts the most reblogged picture on Tumblr.
“Challenge accepted!” —SPN fandom
OMFG seriously look at the FUCKING notes
(Source: mspandrew, via crooooooooooowley)
Guys, imagine if this actually happened in the movie
JUST IMAGINE
(via deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan)
