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#blueecpcelebration
mjulmjul · 2 years
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a summer together
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greatcometcas · 2 years
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for liv @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie’s one year celebration ↳ march 6 · frogs · deancas + frog and toad by arnold lobel
id in alt text and under the cut
[ID. Six GIFs of Dean and Cas set to pages of the Frog and Toad books by Arnold Lobel.
The first GIF is the cover of ‘Frog and Toad Together’ with Dean and Cas standing side by side in a field, angel blades at the ready.
The second GIF shows the two of them together on the pier in Dean’s dream with the text “Toad sat and did nothing. Frog sat with him”.
The third GIF has Dean fixing Cas’ tie, explaining that when humans want something badly “We lie”. The text reads “What is will power? asked Frog. Will power is trying hard not to do something that you really want to do, said Toad”.
In the fourth GIF, Dean kneels by Cas’ body in All Along the Watch Tower. The text reads ”Frog, Frog where have you gone? Toad was spinning in the dark. Come back, Frog, he shouted. I will be lonely”.
In the fifth GIF, Cas confesses his love for Dean. The text reads “What did you write in the letter? Frog said, I wrote ‘Dear Toad. I am glad that you are my best friend. Your best friend, Frog.”
In the sixth GIF, Dean and Cas strutting their stuff in Tombstone have been placed in the cover of ‘Frog and Toad All Year’ /END ID]
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emeraldcas · 2 years
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🌈 dean & cas edits for @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie' celebration & 'rainbows'
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universalcas · 2 years
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➻ Memories of an ancient god.
Liv's (@blue-eyed-cutiepatootie) 1 year celebration. Day II: Thunder (and a bit of lightning) ⚡⚡ + Click for HQ.
Taglist under cut (ask to be added/removed).
@iamchillallthetime @xofemeraldstars @destiebestie @fallenangelsera @petrichoravellichor @deanandkastiel @postpunkdean @billiewena @knifelesbianjo @supernatural4life2022 @ishipdestiel-lovesofmylifeistg85 @faithlesshunter @lovelybydecay @naturallyathief
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chapeldean · 2 years
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sun(rise) in the mountains.  ⋙for @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie ‘s one year celebration 💛
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Dean is only dimly aware of the world around him once he’s divorced from the archangel he let possess him. He knows that Sam and Cas are there, and he knows that he feels cold, so damn freezing. He knows that his hands are shaking, teeth trembling. Jimmy Novak had been right years ago, having an angel possess you was like being strapped to a comet, and now that the heat is gone, he can’t get warm again.
He knows he’s in the backseat of the Impala, that Sam is driving, that Cas slides into the backseat next to him. He knows that Sam turns the heat on in the car, but that it won’t take away the biting chill that’s worked its way into his bones. He’s trying to stop his hands from shaking, and it’s not working, it’s not.
“Hey,” Cas says in a low voice, just for Dean to hear, a whisper that breaks through the haze. “Let me help.” 
Dean tries to open his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, he watches through half-seeing eyes as Cas carefully takes off his trench coat and then wraps it around Dean. It’s the realest shelter he’s ever felt, like the coat is a part of Cas, an extension of his strong hands. Dean’s starting to warm up but his hands are still trembling, and he tries to tuck them under the trench coat, too, but he can’t get them to move. 
“Let me,” Cas says again, taking Dean’s hands in his own. Even if Dean could talk now, he wouldn’t have the words for how his heart has jumped to his throat at the way Cas is gently rubbing his thumb over the back of one of his hands. 
Eventually, he doesn’t feel cold anymore. 
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floral-cas · 2 years
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floral pattern wallpaper cas icons ✿ feel free to use!
created for @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie's creator event! prompt: pattern
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Bee Brave, Castiel
For @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie‘s celebration day 5. Prompt “bloom.”
2.5K
Read below or on ao3.
Castiel appeared among the wildflowers without warning.
He sat cross-legged, his tan coat tucked closely to his body lest it disturb the hardworking bees.
“Good morning,” he smiled softly at a bumblebee resting atop a Black-eyed Susan. “How are you doing, little one?” Castiel reached out a finger toward the bee, giving it a chance to study his scent and let their little friends know the angel meant no harm.
“I hope I’m not disturbing your work,” Cas said, retracting his hand and resting it on his lap. “I very much admire what you do. It’s noble work. You should be proud.”
The angel tilted his head to the sky, allowing the morning sunlight to warm his face. It seemed as good an opportunity as any to stretch his wings, so that’s precisely what he did. Vast and ethereal, his wings spread almost twenty feet in either direction, his feathers ruffling in the cool breeze.
Bees, he’d come to learn, were one of the few angel-friendly species on Earth. They had no fear of his true form, and quickly came to trust his vessel. Bees were gentle beings; fond of peace and busyness. And the occasional compliment. Unlike humans, they were rarely critical, and were happy to listen to the woes of a wayward angel.
They made easy company for lonely hearts.
They were also quite adorable.
There was an irony to the righteousness of angels and their heavenly path, who heard the prayers of the scared and needy and ignored them as easily as swatting away a buzzing insect. It was the bees that listened carefully while carrying out their mission, holy in a sense more humble than the divine. The bees shared in their communication; working toward a higher purpose to make the world a better place for all living creations. Castiel envied them.
They followed their queen, a tiny god among their ranks. There was little chaos to their order.
“I’ve come to seek your council,” the angel said sheepishly. Careful to avoid the flowers, he lay on his back, resting his hands above his heart. Like a ghost among the wildflowers, his wings bore no mark upon the ground. Unseen by the eyes of humans, unfelt by the Earth. So long as they didn’t disturb the flowers, the bees would take no spite against their presence.
Castiel sighed. The sky above was a calming blue today, decorated by soft wisps of cloud. High above the meadow, a trail of white followed an airplane. Cas could see the passengers in the rounded windows looking down on the world below. It was a miracle and a curse what these humans managed to do in the last couple of centuries. Though he knew well that the limited sight of humans meant they couldn’t see him in return, Cas felt a kinship with them if only for a moment.
For millennia, it was only the angels and the birds who’d seen the world in such a scale. He wondered what the humans made of the view; if they felt their true significance when faced with the enormity of the world they hailed from.
Humans, Castiel had noticed, were prone to ignorance of their worth. Some bore the sin of pride, believing their purpose lies in power over many. Others wilt in the face of challenge, forgetting their strength; blind to the cosmic importance of each of their existence. Some prayed for guidance or escape, believing themselves lost to the paths they must tread. And others, still, were humbled by the responsibility of the world on their shoulders. Ignorant to the reality that, perhaps, they were the most important players in the grand game of life.
But there was only one human who knew exactly why he was put on Earth. And instead of finding comfort in the knowledge, as billions of people over time believed they would, he rebelled against the grand plan.
That human had once been in Castiel’s charge. God had played them like puppets on a string; overlooking, in his ignorance, that the bond they shared was more profound than any destiny.
Castiel had rebelled as surely as the human in his charge had. He’d fallen further than almost any other angel ever had. Two loyal sons, raised as soldiers by absent fathers.
God had abandoned the angel. And Castiel suspected his father had no idea how frayed the strings of his fate had become.
Turning to the flowers, Castiel spoke again to the bees.
“Have you ever been in love?”
The bees buzzed, carrying out their duty.
Castiel frowned at their answer. “I’m aware you have your queen. You misunderstood.”
The bees moved along from bud to blooming bud, unperturbed by the angel’s opposition.
Castiel smiled at their persistence, their patience. “You love your work. The outcome of your labour. I commend you for it,” he said wistfully. “I suppose there was a time I once thought we were alike, you and I. That I served Heaven, as you do your queen. I thought my path was righteous. That my actions were justified because my intentions were rooted in loyalty,” Castiel turned his head, a frown on his face as he squinted up at the clouds once more. “I was wrong.”
A bumblebee hovered above the angel’s face, coming to rest on the tip of his nose.
The angel smiled; the lines around his eyes and forehead deepening.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Cas said when the bee buzzed happily, flying off to a flower at the angel’s side. “You do love the flowers. They are beautiful, that’s true,” he conceded, reaching out to run his fingers along the petals of a daisy. It reminded him of an old French tradition – a game adolescents would play. For every petal they plucked from a daisy they’d alternate the phrases “he loves me” and “he loves me not”. Whichever phrase remained for the final petal waiting to be plucked was the answer to their question.
Castiel admired them their delusions.
The answer to his problem didn’t lie in the picking of flowers or the language of the bees.
It lay in a question neither he nor the man he’d fallen in love with had ever dared to ask.
Cas pondered how he could translate to his gentle friends. They understood beauty, but Dean was beautiful in a way that flowers and order and honey could never be. Dean was anything but delicate, yet there was a gentleness to him that so few seemed to appreciate. His soul was made up of colours that would put every flower to shame, and yet his hands had committed sins even demons would shy from.
Flowers did not begrudge their purpose or deny their loveliness. They strove for beauty and life.
They were resilient. Though Dean, too, was stronger than he gave himself credit for.
Castiel was silent for some time, listening to the gossip of the bees until he found a solution.
“I think, perhaps, ‘love’ is too small a word for how I feel,” he said, smiling as the bees buzzed their encouragement. “For a long time, I didn’t understand what it was that I felt.”
The angel thought back to the months he’d spent battling through the depths of hell to find that brilliant soul in the dark. He thought of his orders; of the doubt that crept into his wavelength for the first time in his long life. He wondered why this man – this seemingly insignificant human – who loathed himself so completely, cared so deeply for the rest of humanity.
Castiel had believed he deserved the punishments he’d been dealt when he’d admitted to sympathising with Dean Winchester. He'd felt guilt for his doubt in the beginning, and soon he'd felt remorse for the absence of that waning guilt. His doubt turned to anger turned to righteousness, and once again Castiel had found himself at the mercy of his failures. But through it all, the doubt and the fall, something new had bloomed inside the angel.
His kinship with Dean — their shared experience with their broken paths and angry fathers — had shifted over time. It was no longer enough to protect Dean, to set him on the path of righteousness. He cared for Dean, feared for him. And though he’d once believed his revolution of faith from god to mere man was a sign of failure, he’d begun to feel things more keenly, more humanly, than ever before.
He wanted Dean: his curious touch and gentle words. He heard Dean’s prayers, his unconscious longing and desperate restraint. Sometimes it was so loud, it was hard to tell where Dean’s ended and the angel’s began.
Castiel knew that Dean wanted him in the physical sense; that they shared dreams and delusions of the romantic sort for one another. But Dean’s heart was cloaked in shame, and Castiel could only wonder alone if that shame was rooted in self-loathing… or if Cas was the source of the shame.
“I think I know now,” the angel said to the bumblebee. “Loving Dean feels like purpose, and it hurts as badly as failure. Dean is a wonderful and complicated person. But looking at him, seeing what he does for his family, for the world? Falling for him is easy.”
A bee settled on the angel’s outstretched hand, its beady eyes staring at him in solidarity.
“It is painful,” the angel agreed, swallowing down the lump that formed in his throat. “It’s the risks and consequences that are hard, not the love itself. I would rather feel the pain of loving him, than ever lose the freedom I gained in my fall. In a way, our disobedience and rebellion is its own kind of salvation. I think… I know, that I am proud to love him in this way. Even if nothing comes of it,” Castiel smiled sadly. “Even then, I am proud of who I’ve become because we met. He changed me.”
The bee crawled along the angel’s arm, wings fluttering persistently.
“What do I want?” Castiel translated. He’d wondered about the answer to that every day – what his happiness could look like. He’d suspected the answer for quite a while. “I want to make him happy. I want to hold his hand and kiss the scars on his knuckles. When he stares at my lips, with that awful mixture of shame and desire, I want to kiss him. I want him to kiss me,” Castiel touched his lips with the tips of his fingers, his eyes growing glassy as he imagined a scenario in which he could feel such a joy.
“Dean… he’s infuriating. He’s stubborn and he’s difficult and sometimes I find myself wanting to punish him in ways that would reward us both. I don’t quite understand it, these instincts. It has nothing to do with absolution. I want so badly to break down this wall between us, to show him he’s not the man he thinks he is. That he’s so much more. That I – that he is loved more dearly than he believes is possible,” Cas sighed, dropping his hand to his chest once more. “I want Dean in every way I can have him. But I won't sacrifice myself to take what little he could give. Does that make sense, my dear friends?"
A swarm of bees landed on the angel’s belly then, startling Cas’ attention from his reverie.
You must listen, they seemed to say. Not to your doubt or his shame. If you know his heart as you know your own, listen to what it wants.
Castiel rolled his eyes, certain they still didn’t understand. He grew quiet then, allowing the day to pass heedless of his dilemma. The world was so much bigger than his sadness, though the pain in his heart would tell him otherwise. He listened to the bees; to their sage advice and their crude gossip. He watched the clouds form shapes in the sky, reminding him of the true forms of his brothers and sisters. He was content here, in the blooming flowers, in the company of small friends and open skies.
But all the while he waited for prayers that never came.
It was nearing the hour of sunset when, one by one, the bees began to leave. Castiel waved them off, awed by their routines and excitement to begin anew each day.
A single bumblebee remained, hovering close by the angel’s ear.
Be brave, it seemed to say. “Have faith in your love. You have purpose, too, Castiel. You will find it sooner than you might think.”
Castiel returned to the bunker that night with a heart not quite so heavy as before. He smiled at the man he loved, who told him he was missed on the hunt that day.
The angel listened to the truth of Dean’s heart; to the unspoken words masked beneath sharp speeches in moments of fear. Through bouts of unbearable longing on long drives on silent nights. He loved Dean through petty fights and lonely miles split between them. And he found his purpose among the humans, saving lives and healing wounds. He discovered love of a brand new kind at the birth of the Nephilim he raised as a son.
When Castiel gave his life to save the man who taught him love, he left this world a father, a friend, and a catalyst for the final battle for free will.
It was many months later, at the dawning of spring, that Castiel returned to the bees among the wildflowers.
“He loves me,” he told them, with a toothy smile upon his face.
He’d been brave.
The angel had found his purpose, as they’d said he would. He was a father now, his wings restored to their former strength and full supply of grace tucked within his vessel.
When Castiel had died protecting Dean, god had wiped the board clean in his anger. There'd been no planes in the sky nor animals in the woods. There'd been no bees to tend to the flowers or hives of honey. But the man Castiel loved, had saved them all because of the sacrifice the angel had made.
It had taken time before Dean and Jack and Sam and Claire and all the people the angel called family had found a way to save him in return. Castiel had been happy, truly happy, to speak his truth to Dean. But there was no joy to parallel the love he felt in return upon his rescue.
Castiel crouched low toward the ground, holding out a glowing hand to the wildflowers recovering from the winter. With his new-found grace he gave them new life, much to the delight of the bees.
“Thank you, my friends,” the angel said, before stretching his wings to return home to the embrace of the man who’d loved him dearly all this time.
Their battle was over, their journey to peace was only just beginning. And what a beginning it was, to hear “I love you” each night as the stars shone in the sky, and every morning with arms wrapped around his waist.
They were soldiers once. Now, the fallen angel and his righteous man would spend the rest of their days enjoying the fruits no longer forbidden, growing freely for all to eat.
Free will was a hell of a win. But they'd fought all of it, every battle, for love.
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💜🎉 for day one of my creator celebration 🎉
@thisisapaige @sammy-501 @slipper007 @wormstacheangel @rowan-underthehouse @one-more-offbeat-anthem @big-wet-cas-eyes @gardenforcas @eyesofatragedy67 @lonesome-dreamsss @emeraldcas @magicalbebagerie @floral-cas @221castiel @andzia267 @bottlesandcats @jewishdeanwinchester @much-ado-about-juncos @deans-honeybee @pointyearedelvishprincling @septembersghost @casismymrdarcy @imkaya @curlynerd @organicpurplepants @10x02 @heavygauge @theehunterhusbands @icefire149 @justgayangelthingz @chapeldean @caskarass @cascats @dmsilvisart @interrogatethecat @adhdnatural @corancoranthemagicalman @saratsuzuki @comet-iviarini @greatcometcas @supernatural4life2022 @homeroad
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icefire149 · 2 years
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Prompt: Frog
For Liv's 1 Year Celebration!!! Spiritually I'm lighting off sparklers and waving them around in celebration! @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie
Like The Fairy Tales - (1,238 words)
"Hey, we got a problem."
Rowena rolled her eyes and leaned back in her arm chair. Until the phone rang, she had been enjoying a rare afternoon at home with her favorite blend of tea and a new journal to fill. She sighed loudly.
"It's never a 'how do you do, Rowena? 'Or a 'thank you so much for the gracious help you provided on the case. Do you need a restock on any of your fine herbs?' Instead it's always help, help, help." She snapped her fingers for added emphasis.
To her surprise, he didn't bark back like usual. The line was suspiciously quiet, and then faintly she heard another voice in the background.
"She has a point, Dean. You and Sam can be quite demanding."
"I thought saving people was thanks enough! I didn't realize I needed to be sending out muffin baskets every time we call in a favor."
The corners of Rowena's mouth curled in amusement. "You should learn a thing or two from the handsome angel." There was an audible hitch in Dean's breathing at that. Her grin widened. "And since you so kindly made the suggestion, I'd like an apple cinnamon muffin basket."
"Yeah, okay. Whatever you want," Dean rambled, trying to keep his cool. "Make a list. If you fix Sam, you can have any baked goods you want."
"What's wrong with Samuel?" Rowena sat up attentively in her chair.
"We wrapped up the case we were working on, ganked the witch, but then Mr. Bull-Moose-In-A-China-Shop over here knocked over some bottles of who knows what, and now….he's a frog."
"What?" The word tumbled out of her mouth in disbelief. Of all the things to be calling about this was a million miles away from what she was anticipating.
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "He's a real prince char-SONOFABITCH." Dean's voice grew distant from the phone. "Screw you, you...you frog bitch. Jack! Don't let Sammy leave the room."
"He bit me," Dean continued, addressing Rowena this time. "I can't believe he did that....anyways, is this something in your wheelhouse to fix? Cas isn't sure where to begin to make him human again."
Rowena blinked, slowly her shock began to wear off. "Yes," she answered finally. "I'm sure once I get a look at the spell I can figure something out. Did you happen to save any of the potion?" She stood up and began gathering her things. "Even the teeny tiniest drop can make all the difference."
"Yeah," Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "We saved some in a paper cup."
"Good," Rowena nodded. Already, she was compiling a list of spells in her brain. Walking over to her pantry, she started pulling several ingredients. "I'll be there in a few hours."
"Good," Dean answered almost unfocused. After a short pause he asked, "So he'll be okay, right? You can fix him?"
"There's no need to worry a single hair on your head," Rowena answered sweetly. She crossed her apartment to grab the right bag for her trip. "Samuel will be back to his charming self in no time."
"Thank you."
Rowena nearly dropped everything in her hands. Stunned, she froze in place. "Dean Winchester, was that a note of sincerity I heard? My, I never thought I'd see the day."
It was far too easy to imagine the way the older Winchester must've been squirming. Her grin stretched ear to ear. "Feel free to try to break the spell before I get there though."
"If it was that easy I wouldn't have called."
"Tisk, tisk. There's no imagination in that pretty little head of yours. The old stories have a very simple remedy for this exact problem."
"I ain't kissing his warty ass!"
Rowena chuckled, "I don't think I've heard that particular fairy tale."
/
Jack was the one waiting for her by the door when she arrived. He led her into the kitchen where everyone else was waiting. Hiding her grin behind one of her hands, Rowena chuckled at the bunker’s mild state of chaos.
Dean was standing over the sink, gargling mouth wash and tightly holding a toothbrush in his fist.
Jack leaned in close to her side and whispered, “I told Dean he had to try, because this had to be like the ending to Frozen but-” The nephlim’s shoulders drooped. “-it didn’t work. So then I tried and nothing happened either.”
“There, there-” Rowena said soothingly and brushing a stray curl of hair out of Jack’s face. “-I’ll get Sam back to his old self. I brought more than enough remedies to try.”
Her confidence put a bright smile on the nephilim’s face.
Disgusted, Dean spit in the sink and turned to say something to Cas when he noticed them standing there. “Oh.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re here.”
“And I see that the Frozen method didn’t work,” Rowena sniped back with a mischievous grin.
Dean rolled his eyes and opened the bottle of mouthwash again. He poured more into his mouth like he was drinking a beer.
Rowena laughed and turned her attention to Cas. He was seated at the table holding a large bullfrog in the palms of his hands. His brow pinched together seriously as he stared at the frog.
"I'm so sorry, Sam,” he said. “I care about you very much, but I don't think anything I'd do would be potent enough to be classified as true love." After a short pause he nodded solemnly. “I knew you’d understand.” And only then did the angel’s gaze find it’s way to the witch.
The corner of Rowena’s mouth curled as she raised a hand and waved. “Hello, tweetie pie.”
“Hi,” Cas answered looking somewhat bewildered. He held the frog out towards her. “Sam would appreciate it if you’d quickly put him back to his usual species. He’s getting hungry.”
Rowena raised an eyebrow and crossed the space between them. She bent down so that she was eye to eye with the frog. “Well, Samuel….you’ve gotten yourself into quite the pickle.”
The frog blinked at her, and then Rowena stood up straight. She held her hands out and he hopped into them. The weight and texture had her grimacing immediately. Shaking her head she said, “Hmm, now where to begin?”
“You should give it a try,” Jack suggested.
“Hmm?” Surprised she glanced up from the frog and turned towards Jack.
The nephilim stared at her carefully, and then he smiled. “Kiss him.”
“Yeah, it was your bright idea,” Dean cut in from the sink. He spit toothpaste out and then pointed his toothbrush at her. “So pucker up, it’s your turn. Then you can try your magic mumbo jumbo.”
“I hardly doubt-”
“He likes you,” Jack said simply. “It could work.”
Looking back at Sam, she could feel a light blush rising in her cheeks, but she paid it little mind. “Well, you heard the wee lad.” Rowena winked. “I can’t go disappointing him.”
She planted a kiss on the frog’s head and instantly a cloud of magic fog filled the kitchen. The weight of the bullfrog was replaced by the rough callus of fingertips, and then a gentle squeeze.
When the air cleared, Sam was standing there holding her hand. He was human again, and you could’ve fried an egg on his face from how red it was burning. Awkwardly, he raised his free hand and waved. “Thanks.”
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hotgirl ruby hiii
(for @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie ‘s 1 year celebration <3 <3 based (very loosely) on the prompt ‘sun’ and this post)
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this is the unedited version, in poster colours btw
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darcyesque · 2 years
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electricity from billy elliot // 15x18 // 12x19 // 14x08 // 13x05
for @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie's celebration day 5: bird
taglist (ask to be added/removed):
@youre-only-gay-once @hawaiianpurplewolf @alltoowellcas @buzzbuzzbitches @tootiredmotel @v-o-f-k @toppinghughdancy @sierraxnevada @homeroad @adhdnatural @finalgirlstiel @yeesaac @metallicanatural @xofemeraldstars @emzwolf @novaklesbian @icefire149 @nightandwine @michaelabanes @castinkywinky
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buckleydiazmp4 · 2 years
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for @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie 's 1 year celebration!
march 7 // pattern
i call these pink-plaid-natural icons :)
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(if anyone wants to be tagged in my edits/art lmk!)
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emeraldcas · 2 years
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dean icons for @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie' celebration & prompt "pie" - (pie-cons?)
*feel free to use! (credit appreciated)
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big-wet-cas-eyes · 2 years
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for day 1 of @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie's 1 year anniversary creator celebration! Congrats, Liv! 💜
prompt: rainbow🌈/raccoon🦝 (2k, T, read on ao3)
"Crossroads demon, maybe?" Dean suggests after they've gone way too long without any ideas about what they're hunting. The whole 'dreams coming true' vibe to this case seems familiar and he does not trust it one bit. He assumes that Sam is ignoring him because he doesn't want to think about the last time they dealt with this sort of thing. Turns out Sam was just too deep in thought to respond, though.
"It's a leprechaun," Sam says, standing up suddenly and shoving a book in Dean's face.
"What?" Dean replies, confused. "We've hunted a leprechaun before. The M.O. doesn't fit."
Sam shakes his head. "There's a bunch of different lore on leprechauns. Who's to say the one we found last time is the only variation out there? I think our guy is luring people to the end of the rainbow with gold, promising to grant wishes, and then killing them off when they come to collect."
"So… what? We have to find a rainbow to kill this thing?" Dean groans.
"Yeah, but I don't think it'll be that easy. I don't think the leprechaun will reveal itself purposely to just anyone unless they're a target." Sam gives him a pointed look then.
"Oh, not again." He glares at his brother, hoping he's joking.
"You've been to the fairy realm! You'll be able to see it!" Sam explains. "It just makes sense for you to take the lead here."
Dean points his finger directly at Sam's face, but Sam just bats it out of the way. "Hey man, you have no idea what I went through," Dean says with a shudder. Damn close encounter.
Cas finally decides to break his stoic silence at that moment. "I'll go with you, Dean. I haven't been to the fairy realm, but I am still able to sense leprechauns."
"That doesn't change the fact that we need a rainbow to find this thing," Dean adds with an eye roll.
"Oh!" Jack exclaims. It makes Dean jump; he had forgotten that the kid was even in the room. He's still getting used to having him around. It's almost the exact opposite of his awareness of Cas. Cas can sit there silently for hours, and Dean will be completely aware of his presence, no matter what else is going on. "I have been practicing with weather manipulation. I can't do much yet, but I can make it sprinkle. I think if we time it right with the sun, it will make a rainbow!" The delighted look on Jack's face is honestly adorable. He looks so earnest about being able to help them in such an innocent way. It's almost easy to forget the reason why they need the rainbow in the first place.
"Perfect," Sam says as he claps his hands together once. "Once the sun is up, Jack will make a rainbow. Dean and Cas will follow it and kill the leprechaun. Case closed."
"Slow your roll, Gigantor," Dean says. "We still need to get our supplies together."
Keep reading 🌈🌈🌈
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chapeldean · 2 years
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Rainbow for @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie‘s one year celebration! Congratulations Liv! 💜  Destiel, 700 words.
“Look!” Castiel feels Dean’s elbow brush his arm gently. “Rainbow.” He follows Dean’s gaze toward the horizon. Bright against the pale, gray sky is a high arch of light in different colors. 
“Yes?” Castiel frowns. He’s not sure he understands. Dean will do this sometimes; point out the obvious and look at him as if he expects a certain reaction. Castiel doesn’t really know what the reaction is supposed to be. “What about the rainbow?”
Now Dean is matching his frown, and Castiel realizes this isn’t something he’s supposed to ask about. It’s another unspoken social norm humans are just supposed to know. “Nevermind.”
“No, no, it’s just… kinda uncommon, a full rainbow like that. At least… I mean, I don’t see 'em a lot.”
“They’re fairly common in these weather conditions”, Castiel says mildly.
“Well, okay. Fair.” There’s a hint of defeat in his voice.
“It is cool”, Castiel agrees, catching his eyes. A rainbow is just light reflecting in water droplets. A weather phenomenon, fleeting and distant. It’s not like looking at Dean, who is vibrant and alive and close enough to touch. 
“Whatever.” But Dean is giving him a small smile. Castiel makes sure to look over at the rainbow again, because it seems to please Dean.
“Very beautiful. Impressive.” He can indulge him. He’d like nothing more. Dean laughs, and Cas doesn’t understand how he’s supposed to admire the sky when Dean’s in all his brilliance is right there. He racks his brain for adjectives Dean would use. “It’s ‘awesome’.”
“Okay, okay, shut up.” But Dean’s face is lit up with mirth and Castiel reflects it right back.
They continue their trek towards the car, walking down the abandoned road. The rain just let up, and the air is intense with the scent of damp asphalt and soil. The mood shifts as the car comes into view, parked beneath an old tree at the side of the road.
“So you don’t… like rainbows.” The way Dean phrases it, it sounds like he hides other words under the ones he uses. He does this sometimes, too, and there isn’t a language on this Earth that Castiel doesn’t understand, but Dean is an enigma. Who talks and talks and talks, and it feels like soaring through the sky chasing clouds.
“No, I do”, he says hesitantly. “If you like them, I like them”, he decides. The truth is that he’s never thought about rainbows like that before.
“But, like… do you… is it your thing? Rainbows, and. Uh. That sorta stuff.”
Castiel has no idea how to answer that.
“Is it your thing…?”
Dean falls silent.
“My dad didn’t like ‘em”, he responds after a while.
“Do you think he would be upset if he knew you do?” Castiel asks, haltingly.
Dean snorts, and hoists the duffel up further on his shoulder.
“Definitely.”
They walk the rest of the way in silence.
Once they’re in the car, Castiel turns to Dean.
“When you say rainbows, you mean something else, don’t you?”
Dean stares straight ahead.
“I guess. Yeah.”
“You are here. Your father is not. What you choose to enjoy… he doesn’t have a say in that anymore.”
“What if–” but Dean cuts himself off, and shakes his head, and when he smiles it’s tight-lipped and closed off and Castiel instantly misses the laughter lines and glitter in his green eyes.
“What if what?”
Dean sits with both hands on the wheel but makes no move to start the car. His head rolls back, and he stares up at the ceiling.
“What if there’s shit I like that my family can never know about? Shit I shouldn’t like. What if I like that and liking that makes me into something I shouldn’t be.”
“Your family cares about you”, Castiel says. He has no idea what Dean is alluding to, but he can’t imagine it’d be so bad that Bobby or Sam wouldn’t accept it, or forgive him for it. “I’m sure they wouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”
Dean swallows audibly and for a fleeting moment, Castiel gets the feeling tears might be pressing behind his eyelids.
“Thanks. Shit, sorry. Let’s go before Sam wonders what the hell happened.” He starts the car, pulls out on the road. Castiel watches the rainbow in the rearview mirror as they drive away from it, admires the gradient, and imagines flying over it, through it. Maybe his wings could reflect light like that, too. Maybe Dean would like that. He smiles to himself as he thinks about it. For Dean, he’ll drape himself in every color under the sun. 
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