I Read Into Things

Misha tweets

the person reading this is going to survive the rough patch they’re going through

Taking medications that help you is good. Using mobility aids or other assistive devices that help you is good. Respecting your own limits to maintain your health is good.

Be proud of yourself for taking the steps you need to take care of yourself, and ignore anyone who doesn't understand the importance of this.

Modern fandom went awry when people stopped learning how to avoid content that upsets them and instead starting actively seeking it out.

I mean this in the kindest, most loving way possible, but babes you'll be so much happy when you stop focusing on what other people are doing and instead focus on what you like.

You'll never be able to stop people from liking what you hate, and the best way you'll find any peace of mind is properly utilizing blocking, blacklisting, and muting tools. Take it from someone who used to run a shipping discourse blog, fandom is supposed to be what you enjoy, stop focusing on things that upset you.

this is so dumb lol 

Jack goes back to the past by accident and finds his dads, it doesn’t go well 

Dean has a crush on the angel and has no idea how angels work can you blame him? 

Always call local beekeepers instead of an exterminator! My beekeeper friend got to re-home some bees that were living in the abandoned Denny’s before it was torn down

Once upon a time, I saw a meta writer do a post about the Cartwright Twins back when the episode aired. As it's been brought up again and I can't find the original post, I'mma just tag anyone I think it might have been. Sorry, not sorry.

@tinkdw @postmodernmulticoloredcloak @mittensmorgul @amwritingmeta @destielette1 @starsinursa @orionsangel86 (and anyone else)

This is for you! 😂

Anywaaay, Dean had a nice time. ♥

i think actually the key to successfully doing tumblr (and especially doing fandom on tumblr) is realising that your blog is your little house and you can post about whatever you like there. once you realise you are just living in and decorating your very own silly little online house you start focusing on what makes you happy rather than constantly performing for & compromising your tastes for & placing all your self worth on little scraps of clout, and you will be a lot happier for it

If we can’t have forever, I’ll live a lifetime in this moment.

@casbandicoot​ tell your mom the artist who drew it fully intended it to be gay. GAY GAY GAY.

But, I mean, I have some nsfw stuff if she needs more convincing... 

A buddy of mine was into larping. Went for him, stayed for the chicks.

SUPERNATURAL (2005 - 2020) S10E09, THE THINGS WE LEFT BEHIND

It’s late and Baby may not be running on empty but Dean is coming close. Back at the Missouri-Kansas state line, they decided to push straight through. So they’re closing in on 3 AM and they’re still revving, but they’re also almost home.

Also at the state line, Sam took the opportunity to swap seats with Castiel. (There was some muttering about shorter older brothers and bench seats as he went and then he promptly passed out in the backseat, limbs flailed out. Dean had tilted the rearview to set eyes on him and grinned. “Always slept like a puppet with cut strings,” he told Cas. A soft smile had touched Cas’s lips before he turned to watch the plains roll along out the passenger-side window.) So Dean has been riding with an angel in shotgun for the past few hours and that always does something to soothe him through the longer rides. Maybe it’s like the idea of a Dashboard Jesus. Or maybe it was just Cas.

They’ve had one of Sam’s mixtapes on for the last little while but Dean has mostly been tuning the music out into white noise. They talked a little here and there, about the case, about the bunker. Dean had to focus to keep his eyes on the road. But they’ve been quiet for the last stretch, until Cas reaches across and flips the input from the cassette tape to the radio. New York Minute filters in, halfway finished. Dean doesn’t complain, or cite house rules.

Cas isn’t staring out the passenger window anymore. His eyes flicker easily between the front windshield and Dean’s face. Dean can feel the lilt of Cas’s gaze, like Don Henley’s hush of a voice. He swallows and resists the urge to meet eyes. He’s tired and he doesn’t trust himself not to drive them into a ditch. He can imagine it well enough, Cas’s blue eyes in the dim distance of night between them.

What the head makes cloudy, the heart makes very clear, Dean sings along for a moment, voice more a whisper than a melody. Cas turns fully to him then and smiles. He always likes when Dean sings - he had told him so on a few occasions and then tilted his head at the blush it produced.

Dean drops one hand from the wheel and, across the middle of the bench seat, it meets one of Castiel’s hands. Their fingers loop together and Dean goes warm, suddenly, from the center of his chest out. He’s too old to be embarrassed or flustered with infatuation but that doesn’t stop the way his lungs bubble up. This is still or sort of new and Dean was never really a hand-holding type. But being close to Castiel…it just feels right. Like that same familiar ease that soothes him through the long drives. 

Cas doesn’t say anything, but he keeps a solid little smile across his mouth for the rest of the ride. His palm pressed firm to Dean’s, Cas turns his gaze out the window once more. Just barely, Dean hears him singing along, You can get out of the way. He glides his thumb up the side of Cas’s hand and Cas squeezes back.

They ride on through the night, to home.

here is a star for everyone who’s not feeling their best today (🌟)

The party starts winding down around ten. The guests who came from not-so-far have left, lingering longer for just one more hug, one more goodbye. Jack convinced all of “Dean’s kids” (as Krissy had declared all of them with a wide arc of her arm and a smile) to spend the night so they’ve commandeered the Dean Cave. Much to Dean’s dismay, they managed to sync someone’s phone to the television in there and are laughing in bursts and fits at something called Tiktok.

The rest of the stragglers are sprawled easily in the main room. Sam and Cas shoved a bunch of the more comfortable chairs into the area so everyone has a seat. Jody, Ellen, and Bobby are all talking low and laughing in a way that can only spell trouble. Charlie and Mary are debating the pros and cons of the Blood Hunter class in Dungeons and Dragons, while Bess and Eileen interject with arguments for Cleric and Druid respectively. Nearby, Sam somehow wrangled Garth into flipping through some book that he discovered (Dean heard the word “lore” and ran). And in a far corner, Benny and Jo are leaning into each other in such a way that makes Dean avert his eyes (aside from the inherent panic of exes meeting up, he does think they could be good for each other in a weird way).

And at the helm of it all, in the doorway of the hall from the kitchen is Dean. He’s been standing here for the past fifteen minutes, maybe, after slipping out for another beer. When he came back, he was struck at the sight before him. All these people, together, alive. He loves them all, each of them, so much. And they all love him. They all came here, tonight, for him, to celebrate his life. 

If you had asked him at just about any time in his life, Dean would have said that the only time a gathering like this would have been possible would have been right after his body was ash on a pyre. He was always sure celebrations of his life would be funereal.

He’s forty-two years old and at each birthday he got before this, he was certain he wouldn’t make it to the next one. Bloody, or broken, or with a gun in his hand. That was his ending, he thought.

There’s the smooth, solid warmth of someone behind him. Dean’s eyes close and the smile on his face widens as he prays, instinctively, Cas. He rocks back on his heels a little, lets some of his weight settle against the angel. “Took you long enough,” he says on a sigh.

Cas maneuvers himself so he’s pressed into Dean’s side, one arm around his waist. “It was hard to leave them,” Cas says, like he’s surprised by it. Maybe half an hour ago, he offered to put the twins down for Bess and Garth. “They fell asleep quite easily, but I found it…hard to walk away.” There’s an awe in his voice that makes Dean’s heart skip a little. 

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “Babies are nice.”

They’re quite for a minute, both of them looking out at the room.

Turning his head, Cas presses a kiss into the hinge of Dean’s jaw, and then another right at the crest of his cheek. “Happy birthday, Dean,” he says with his mouth still close so that the words rush along his skin, warm and safe. 

“Thanks, sunshine.” Dean twists so he can get his arm over Cas’s shoulder, bring them both in closer to each other. “Best one yet.” 

-

credit to @sunforgrace because i finally had inspiration to write a thing for Dean after reading their post (linked in the ficlet).