#I’m genuinely curious about how much of Cas’ actions were of his own free will

[rowenas-megacoven]

God may be the playwright but Cas is the background extra in the tree costume who wasn’t supposed to have any lines but ends up setting the stage curtains on fire and I think that’s more iconic

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Hey! I always loved your writing and you actually inspired me to write some myself so I want to request if it’s alright…

Can I have Hanako x f!reader who doesn’t believe in love (this having to due with her parents never getting along). She says that it’s just a little word people say to make them feel better about themselves and it’s a waste of time.

But she can’t help but fall in love with Hanako and gets on flustered when he’s around but tries to tell herself it’s not love. Oneshot please!

Thank you and feel free to ignore if you want!

hanako x f!reader

a/n: hello hello!! thank you so much for the compliment- that’s really sweet, and it genuinely means the world to me;; but, sure thing! (ahh, the fact that i wrote a rengoku fic about the reader feeling that way not long ago- this is a topic I’m familiar with, so I hope that it makes it turn out even better? haha) thank you so much for requesting, and I hope this turns out alright!!! <333 also, if you ever want to share your writings, do feel free to tag me/let me know somehow! I’m sure they’re amazing, and I’d love to read them, should you be comfortable with it!! :DD

bro i guess this request resonated with me bc i genuinely like,,, went off. So it’s,,, pretty long- i hope that’s alright haanofnaoinf-

warnings: implied parental issues?

word count: 2,363

Love was ridiculous. It was a stupid idea. An overused word, thrown onto any situation in which you felt something other than anger, fear, sadness, or disgust. If something made you even a little happy, you’d claim to love it. If someone showed you basic human decency, you’d claim to love them.

You hated it. It made you feel sick.

It’s not like you could control what everyone else did, you supposed. So, you’d continue on normally. If you didn’t fall in love, then there was no worry about falling out of it- that’s what you figured. That’s what you told yourself. Love wasn’t real in the first place- how could such an overused word hold any true meaning? It was like a 1st grade pinky promise. It was easily broken, as if it held any truth to it when the kids exchanged a deal. No matter how much either part of it trusted the promise, it made it no more real or true.

Yep… love was best put as a 1st grade pinky promise.

Maybe not-

Still, such a strong opinion on love, an unmoving opinion, with your own “proof” to back it up… made it hard when you thought that it may be put to question. You walked near the bathroom, the girls’ bathroom, and heard a girl from your class shout something. You couldn’t tell what, but you did notice her slightly annoyed expression as she left the bathroom.

Ah, the girl who seemed to be constantly head-over-heels for boys- particularly Minamoto-senpai, you had noted. It wasn’t like he’d return the feelings, you figured. It’s not like her “love” was anything more than an obsession.

Still, you figured there must have been some other girl in the bathroom. Yashiro probably had friends- she talked to Aoi a lot. Maybe the school’s princess was teasing her friend. You pushed open the door, noticing that all the stalls were empty. The only other entity in the bathroom was… a floating, slightly-transparent boy. He was laughing, and you went ahead and assumed it was at Yashiro’s annoyance.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Honestly, you just needed to pee, but it shouldn’t have surprised you. Little mokke running around the school constantly, weird things happening, a boy in the girls’ bathroom wasn’t life-changing. Or so you figured.

You grumbled, making some comment you weren’t even sure you got, as you stepped into a stall. Not acknowledging him would surely be best. You were fairly new to the school, and it wasn’t like you were insanely fond of public restrooms anyway. You’d never have to see him again. Plus, if he was anything like the other supernaturals, you were sure he’d be a handful. That was your thought process, as you washed your hands, glimpsing up at the mirror hung above the sink- you caught another glimpse at him.

An old uniform. Brown, almost shaggy, hair. His eyes were amber, and rather large- the way he held his hands, you silently compared him to a puppy. Innocent face, playful eyes- almost too alive for a ghost. He turned his head, nearly making eye contact, but you continued to study his appearance. A white… bandage? Sticker? Something- stuck to his face, the kanji for “seal” written in red.

Weird.

“My, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” He spoke, bringing a hand to his mouth, as a mischievous smirk came to his face.

A pain in the neck.

Your eyebrows furrowed, as you looked back down, turning off the sink and drying your hands.

“Oh? Gonna pretend you didn’t see me? How cruel,”

Still, you ignored him. He couldn’t be serious. How was he so sure you didn’t simply think you caught something out of the corner of your eye? Was he messing with you, or trying to lighten the mood?

“I don’t think I want to associate with a pervy ghost,” You said, shutting the door behind you. As if right on time, the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over. With that, you made your way to class, hoping to not have to deal with any more paranormal things.

…

Unfortunately, things don’t always go as planned. As the rest of the day took it’s sweet time to pass, you sat, spacing out as you thought about that boy. He was one of the first humanoid supernaturals you had seen at the school- honestly, you half-hoped that all of them were cute little bunnies. Not… strangely eye-catching boys… how weird.

You sighed, clicking your pen, letting the quiet sound drown the teacher’s ramblings out a bit. Ca-click, click-click, ca-click, click-click.

“Y’know, people find that little sound annoying sometimes. It never bothered me, but teachers seem to be so sensitive about it.”

Jumping, you turned your head a bit, only to be practically nose-to-nose with the boy from the bathroom. Your heartbeat increased from the surprise, but you placed your hand on your chin, pretending to not have seen anything. Not only did you not want to give him much of your time or energy, but you definitely didn’t want to attract negative attention from the normal kids around you. Your eyes scanned the room, and you noticed Yashiro looking in your direction, most likely at the boy. Yes, she definitely saw him too.

“Waaah, Yashirooooo, the new girl’s totally ignoring me!” He sighed, floating over to her. She looked away as well, focusing intensely on whatever the teacher had to say. You weren’t even sure by this point, watching the two out of the corner of your eye. You stopped clicking your pen, watching as he stood behind Yashiro, leaning against her as he peered at her notes.

He glanced at you again, and you looked away. The boy, who you were now curious as to what his name could be, floated back over to your desk, glancing at your notes.

“You really aren’t paying attention, huh! Yashiro’s not much better- her page is mainly doodles. How on earth do you plan to pass like this, haha?”

You glared at him slightly, before lifting your pen, and clicking it open. Annoyed, you flipped to another page, and scribbled something down. He leaned forward a bit, looking at whatever it is you wrote.

“Leave me alone, toilet boy.”

He laughed, patting your back. “Toilet boy? What’s with all the insults, I barely know youuuuuu- plus, I have a name. I’m Hanako. School Mystery Number 7, Hanako-san of the toilet! Not ‘toilet boy’, nor a pervy ghost.”

You raised your eyebrows, writing once more.

“Wonderful. Now leave me alone, ‘Hanako-san of the toilet’.”

Days passed, and he certainly didn’t leave you alone. In fact, you grew to find yourself spending more time than you expected to with him. You assisted with supernaturals from time to time, even meeting his two other friends properly- Kou Minamoto and Yashiro Nene. You all slowly, but surely, became friends.

“I’m done wiping the mirrors,” You said, tossing the dirty rag into the bucket.

“I’m done mopping!” Yashiro exclaimed, sighing as she leaned against the mop.

“I’ve finished dusting too,” Kou added.

Hanako nodded, clapping cheerfully. “Great job, everyone! Can’t wait to see the same enthusiasm tomorrow!!”

The three of you collectively groaned, rolling your eyes. “Yes, yes, just like that,” Hanako laughed, moving his legs to sit in the air in a criss-cross fashion. Light conversation picked up, Kou talking to Yashiro, and Hanako throwing in a comment every so often. You stood, leaning against the sink, watching your friends look so happy. Hanako glanced at you, closing his eyes as he grinned.

Your heart rate picked up, and you felt your face grow warm. Your eyebrows furrowed just slightly, as you glanced away. It wasn’t the first time a little action like that made your heart go haywire. Not just your heart- your stomach, your legs, your arms. The moment Hanako grinned at you, hugged you, or emptily flirted, you felt as though you lost the ability to function. It couldn’t be love… no, you didn’t want to fall in love.

“Right, but it's getting late, guys. I should really head home,” Yashiro spoke, putting the mop up as she did so. Kou nodded, glancing over at the clock. “I’ve got to get home and work on dinner,” He said, putting the duster away, and grabbing his things.

Hanako glanced at you.

“I don’t really have any plans. I finished homework in class, so I think I’ll linger around for a bit more.”

“Alright! Be safe when you head home, (Y/N)! I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Yashiro spoke, waving as she left the room. “Bye guys! Be safe!” Kou added, leaving not long after she did. Silence filled the room for a moment, the only thing breaking it being the sound of your shoes as you made your way to the window seal. Taking a seat, you looked at Hanako expectantly.

“Well? Any more stories of the things I missed out on?”

...

“The Confession Tree?” You questioned, the other two humans long gone by now, leaving Hanako to recount to you previous adventures they had gone on.

“Yep! Yashiro and I took care of that one- it was honestly easier than most of them were. He’s still around, just nothing bigger than one of those pre-cut broccolis. The rumor was, you’d confess under him, and he’d make the feelings mutual~, buuut, it obviously got way out of control.”

“That’s so stupid.”

Hanako raised his eyebrows, not expecting such a distasteful tone of voice. “What is?”

“A supernatural forcing some kids to ‘fall in love’,” You made air quotes, before continuing, “it’s pretty gross. Love’s nothing more than some overused word. It’s tagged onto everything, and it’s basically used to make you feel better. It’s all a waste.”

For once, he was silent. Several questions began to circulate in his mind, but a part of him was… somewhat hurt.

“But what if I love you?” He questioned, tilting his head. His face felt warm, but he tried to steady his heartbeat. It wasn’t a direct confession. No, just a question. A ‘what if.’

You blinked, your face feeling warm. You understood- of course, it was nothing more than a ‘what if.’ “It wouldn’t be love. You’d be interested in me, only for the interest to go away eventually- even if it took a week. Even if it took years. Just… trust me, Hanako. I’m not the smartest person in the world, but- once you see it happen to the two people who are supposed to be there for you forever, you get the memo. It isn’t love. Never was, never will be.”

Those words you spoke… you didn’t like the fact that you questioned their sincerity. Especially when you were blushing, the boy who made you question those words looking at you with his big, rather beautiful eyes. “Or… that’s… what I think,” You added, the heat rising to your face only making you feel worse, as he blinked. His undivided attention on you- on what you said- made your heart beat much faster than you wished it would.

And suddenly, he was closer. Too close. Way too close. His eyes began to shut, as his face drew closer to yours. Your heart began to beat quicker than it had before- your face grew hotter than it already was- your eyes widened, as you silently questioned what on earth he was going.

One of his hands grabbed your wrist, and you looked over at your arm he was holding, then back up at him. His face was still close, so close you were sure you’d smell him if he still had a scent. So close he could probably feel the heat radiating off of your face, if he could still distinguish hot from cold.

“Then why is your heart beating so fast?” He finally questioned, thumb pressed against your radial artery, as if the warmth of your face wasn’t enough of a sign.

“Because- you’re… way too close.”

“But you aren’t pushing me away? I’ll scoot back if you want. I’m not a mind reader though, so just use your words.”

Your mouth felt dry. Why weren’t you saying anything? You could speak. Open your mouth and tell him to move. Take your free hand and shove him.

But… a part of you didn’t want him to move.

Hanako smiled once more, his eyebrows drawn together slightly, as if he were saddened by something. “I’m sorry that you were dealt a hand like that in life. It’s easy to look around and find all the negatives in life. But,” He leaned forward a bit more, nose nearly touching yours, “you aren’t your parents. You don’t need to follow in their footsteps. Don’t let their problems influence you so heavily to where you miss out on potentially great things. It’s okay to be sad about it. It’s okay to be scared. But it’s still your life, not theirs. If everyone’s overuse of it bothers you, then only say it when you mean it. Still, if you feel love, embrace it.”

Your eyes felt slightly prickly, as they watered up a bit. His sincerity… your racing heart. Maybe, just maybe… you were in love.

“I… think I love you, Hanako,” You muttered. You were scared. You were scared that he’d tell you he was joking- or that maybe this wasn’t love. Scared of so many things, stemming from one little word. Yet, you tried to embrace it.

“I love you, (Y/N). And nothing will change that,” He said, his smile widening. Quickly, he closed his eyes, closing the distance between the two of you. His lips were… cold. His touch was the only thing that reminded you that he wasn’t alive. Still, the warmth of his words made up for it, as you closed your eyes into the kiss.

His encouragement wouldn’t drown out the fear completely. He couldn’t take the memories away. But he tried… he told you that he loved you, so… you’d believe him. After all, you hadn’t heard him overusing the word. It only made that moment feel that much more genuine.

[nightmares06]

COM: The Dragon Sleeps Tonight (Part 3)

( First part || Second part )

Commission for @wolfie180g!

A third part to The Dragon Sleeps Tonight was requested, and this time we've got some Sam on Sam action! (Kidding-- they're just talking)

The Brothers Apart Sam and Dean are @nightmares06‘s, dragon Dean belongs to @wolfie180g, and the original Sam and Dean Winchester belong to the CW/Erick Kripke!

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: None

Commissions are open!

The time on the trail together gave Sam plenty of time to think.

He couldn't quite stop glancing at the strange pair of Winchesters they'd found. It was hard to argue that they weren't the same guys. Dean's spike of dark-blond hair and confident swagger stood out in all the people Sam had ever met, but then there was the other Sam...

Not even the length of one of his fingers, and tucked against Dean's neck like it was normal.

Drifting back from Dean and Castiel-- the large dragon leading the way as he sniffed out his human counterpart's trail-- Sam couldn't resist engaging his tiny self, fascination in every bit of him.

When did one get the chance to talk to themselves from another universe?

Though neither Dean seemed overly interested in chatting each other up currently, with the human one still glowering at everyone teasing him and the dragon smug at having the last word. Not to mention having proved he could backtrack Dean's trail without breaking a sweat.

Their loss.

"Hey," Sam said companionably as he leveled off next to where his smaller counterpart was sitting.

The other Dean gave him the side-eye, determined that Sam wasn't talking to him and walked stubbornly on without a break in pace. As was his usual when he was busy mulling over something else (likely the fact that not ten paces ahead was a dragon version of himself he’d nearly tried to put a bullet through not long ago).

Sam's counterpart looked up at him, making him feel suddenly very over-sized despite the giant dragon who had taken point, and broke out into a huge grin. Those tiny hazel twins of his eyes shone with an equal curiosity.

"Hi!" the young kid called out brightly.

Sam had a matching grin on his face. "Wow. Just wow," he breathed. "Uh. I wanted to talk? Did you...?"

Younger Sam looked between Dean and his counterpart, patting his older brother's neck and then nodding. No words were needed between them, just as Sam already knew what his older counterpart meant.

Dean let out a huff, and stopped in place. Not once did Sam have trouble keeping balance on his shoulder, a skill Sam wished he had himself sometimes with his Dean. This kid made it look effortless to stay on a walking, moving person.

Reverently, Sam held out his hand, marvelling at the fact that his downsized version was just barely the size of his pinky as the kid stepped carefully from Dean’s shoulder to Sam’s hand.

“Whoa,” Sam whispered, and the kid nearly stumbled when his hand wavered slightly in midair. He steadied it, his second hand coming up for support, cupping around the first. “S-sorry about that… This is out of this world…”

“You’re telling me,” his younger counterpart commented, his head tilted back to take in every detail. “Out of all the weird stuff we’ve had happen, I never expected this.” He waved at Sam, his gesture wide to try and encompass all of the hunter.

“You two kids behave,” Dean groused from the side, already forgotten in their awe of each other.

They glanced back at him, twin bitchfaces a perfect mirror despite their scale.

“I’m older than you,” the taller reminded him, a smirk on his face.

The dragon walking beyond them turned his neck to see what the big holdup was, and chirped his own addition to the argument. Cas turned as well, one hand against Dean’s forearm as he translated. “Age has nothing to do with being the little brother.”

Dean chirped insistently, and Cas let out a put-upon sigh as he was compelled to finish the statement for all to hear. “Bitch.”

The dragon stretched his legs, contentedly flexing each limb to show he was content with the amended translation.

“Shall we continue?” Cas asked the rest. “We must see if we can return to our own world before we mess up the timeline.”

The human Dean shrugged. “How much can you mess it up?” He jerked his head at Sam. “Unless I’m missin’ somethin’, he’s never been livin’ it up as a borrower, so there’s not much you can change more.”

Sam looked him up and down, unable to deny the ache he felt at seeing his older brother-- whether he was Dean from years ago or not-- returned to his humanity. “Guess not. Might mean you have a chance to keep yourself human.”

“It just means our worlds are different,” the smallest Sam piped in from his place on his counterpart’s hand. He’d sat out of the conversation until now, awed to see the dragon his brother had become from far enough back to appreciate his full size. “We can learn from each other.”

Dean rolled his eyes with a scoff and stalked off towards the other two to catch up to Dean and Cas. “Just don’t forget we need to send them back! ” he grumped over his shoulder.

“Is he always like that?” Sam asked the kid in his hand.

“Is yours? ”

Sam couldn’t hide a smirk at the comeback. It had been shot back at him without a wasted breath, exactly what he’d expect of himself. “Fair enough.” He lifted him up. “Shoulder?” he asked, genuinely curious. They might have a lot in common, but he had no idea what his preferred perch on a person would be.

It didn’t exactly come up much.

The younger Sam bobbed his head in agreement. “Shoulder’s best. Pockets are not a fun way to travel.” He wrinkled his nose in such a familiar expression, small-scale, that Sam couldn’t hide a laugh.

“You got it, kid,” he said as he held up his hand.

The sensation of tiny feet and tiny hands grabbing hold of his collar and hair for support made the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck rise up, goosebumps covering his arms. It was all made weirder to think that it was a tiny version of him there, moving the collar out of the way to carve a spot to sit next to his neck much like the kid had been sitting with Dean moments before.

“You all set?” Sam asked when the movement tapered off, waiting to start walking for when he was certain he wasn’t going to shake the guy free with his first step.

The next part that followed was just as startling. He might have seen the kid pat the alternate Dean’s neck for answer before but hadn’t expected that same motion to be used on him minutes later. Two tiny pats followed by a “You got it!” that sounded identical to his same statement seconds before this attempt. The main difference between their voices was his was deeper and reverberated more because of his size, while the smaller Sam’s was light and might drift away on an errant breeze.

With the assurance between them, Sam set off at a quicker pace than before to catch up with the others. If it wasn’t for the size of his own brother, cutting a swath through the forest, he might have lost them completely because of his distraction. The dragon lead the way and they followed.

Sam spent a moment getting settled again once his large counterpart took off in the direction of the others, working hard to avoid worrying him. He’d insisted he could do this, and he wasn’t about to admit the older man’s stride had caught him off-guard.

It was nothing like Dean’s, short and cocky and full of swagger as he walked around. Even when he ran, it was lower to the ground and done with quick economy of movement, the few times Sam had clung to his collar during a chase.

Sam’s was longer and more loping, making his shoulder bob more during each stride. Smaller Sam wondered if his own was like this. He’d never given much thought to it; at his size, he wasn’t about to have anyone riding his shoulder anytime soon. If he did, something had gone badly, badly wrong.

“Holding up alright there, pint-size?”

The voice jarred Sam from his thoughts, nearly making him lose his grip. The last thing he’d expected to hear from himself was that same nickname Dean had given him all the way back the first day they’d found each other. He blinked, gathering his thoughts.

“I’m fine!” he called up, his voice raised instinctively as his-- Sam’s-- ear was higher up than Dean’s while they were talking.

The older Sam nodded to himself, what Sam could see of his face thoughtful. “So you really lived most of your life like this? Without Dean?”

There was a bit of sadness in his voice as he asked the question, and Sam remembered hearing that this Sam had lost his dragon brother nearly right at the start, kidnapped and tortured. He put a hand of consolation on Sam’s neck again, leaving it there to show his support this time.

“It’s not like what you went through,” he reassured him. “Dean tried… he really tried… to save me back then, but dad dragged him out. And once I knew it was him, and more importantly, he knew it was me, he instantly did his best to fix what he could. Neither of us ever… dealt with what you did.”

The taller Sam frowned. “You still lost your family for that long,” he said sternly. “It’s more than anyone should have to deal with.”

Sam switched to patting his neck. “I’ve long come to terms with it. I had a family to help me through that time, and now that I’m back with Dean, he’s become a part of that family. It’s enough.”

Up ahead, the dragon had stopped in his tracks, head down to the ground. As they cleared the last group of bushes, Sam felt some of the tension relax from his shoulders.

Different universe or not, the Impala was home.

Dean was sniffing at the doors, chirping a mile-a-minute at his counterpart with Castiel’s head on a swivel trying to keep up with translating before tossing his arms in the air to get him to slow down. Dean’s human counterpart was leaning against the driver’s side door with a smug grin on his face.

“Put her back together myself,” he said smugly in response to the last statement before the Sams arrived. “Some sprites blasted the front off a while back, and when I was working with her I installed the panic room for Sammy.”

Sam came up to the side just in time for Dean to open the door wide to show off what he could. The dragon couldn’t quite get low enough to peer in, but Cas knelt down and let out an impressed whistle. Sam peeked over their heads, spotting a metal case built in directly under the driver’s seat.

“It’s mine,” the smaller Sam explained when he saw his counterpart’s interest. “I don’t need Dean to get in and out of the Impala, and it’s a strong enough room that breaking in is either impossible or will take too much time. I can get out first.”

Sam pursed his lips, equally impressed. “Inventive,” he admitted.

This served to make Dean even more smug. He slammed the door closed and strolled slowly past the others to the trunk. “You’ve got it,” he said.

Sam held up his hand to his shoulder, letting his tiny counterpart get into his hand. “So, you have a way to send us back to our world?” he asked curiously.

“Believe it or not, we’ve dealt with this a few times before,” Sam piped up from his hand. “The only change in the spell we need is blood from one of you to tell it what universe to point the doorway at. The rest will take care of itself.”

“That means, whatever you were doing when you were there, you better be ready for the second you step through,” Dean warned as he gathered up the supplies. “We can’t control that part here.”

Sam nodded in understanding and let his small self onto the roof of the Impala to survey their preparations from a higher perch. With Dean moving about so quickly, it seemed an easier option.

The smaller Sam immediately set off towards the trunk, hitching up his satchel. Dragon Dean watched, his green eyes carefully focused on the incredibly small person he was watching, still unable to believe that people could live at that size. His own brief excursion when shrunken had been quite enough, and nothing he wanted to repeat. Shrinking had taken away the natural body armor his body possessed, making his skin too thin to keep animal claws from dealing damage and even too weak to withstand his natural fire.

Dean straightened, a book held in hand. “Everyone ready?” he asked gruffly.

“Be ready to offer up your blood when Dean tells you!” Sam called from his spot on the Impala.

“And stay close together,” Dean warned. “We’ve only tried this on one person at a time before.”

The older Sam nodded. “Got it.” He pulled out his silver knife and held it at the ready.

The words Dean spoke blended into each other as he incanted. Sam normally had a great memory for Latin, but there was something about this spell that made them slip right out of his mind as they were spoken. Maybe the way it focused right around him and the other two.

Dean lowered his long, sinuous neck down, his shoulders hunched forward as he tried to stick as close to his brother and partner as he could. Castiel put a reassuring hand on his eye ridge.

The air around them swirled into a twister, encompassing all three.

“NOW!” Sam shouted from the Impala, and the other Sam wasted no time slicing his palm open.

The air ripped around them into a reassuring green and blue aura and Sam felt the worry leave him. This was right.

He gave one last wave to the strange Winchester pair they’d found, then leapt into the vortex, Cas and Dean close at his heel.

The air swirled shut and the dust fell to the ground. Dean sighed, wiping his brow. “What are we, Grand Central Station?” he griped.

Sam smiled as he looked at the deep furrows in the ground where the dragon version of his brother had stood. “I don’t know, they weren’t so bad,” he said. “Got to see me at the right size, after all.”

Dean puffed up his chest. “I’d make a pretty badass dragon,” he said as he offered Sam a path to his shoulder with his hand.

Sam rolled his eyes. “So long as no knights in shining armor try to rescue any princesses from you,” he said dryly.

“Rescue from me? All the ladies love me!”

FIN

[webcricket]

Nudge Theory

Characters: CastielXReader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 1465 (Act IV - Part I)

A/N: A five act mini-series. The reader and Castiel must work together to solve the curious case of the missing Winchesters. Fluff, smut, and a plot for kicks. Whatever happened to Sam and Dean Winchester anyway? Act IV is conveyed from the brothers’ perspective – their whereabouts and mischievous plotting revealed as the tables are unexpectedly turned. Action-packed fluff-filled conclusion coming your way next week!

Completed Series Masterlist:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/162181272535/nudge-theory-masterlist

(X)

Nudge [verb] –

·       “Coax or gently encourage someone to do something.”

Act IV - Part I

“Y/N sounded pissed,” Dean snickered, tone not at all apologetic for the wild goose chase he and Sam sent you running on for the last couple of days. Driving up to the motel you and the angel were staying in, he set the Impala’s parking brake and smoothly released the clutch.

“Yeah, well Cas didn’t sound too pleased either,” Sam pointed out, groping blindly for his bag in the backseat, “you of all people know he hates being dicked around with. Well-meaning intentions aside, that’s exactly what happened here.”

“And there’s the real beauty of it Sammy,” Dean grasped his brother by the shoulder, “their shared anger will bring them even closer together. Real bonding material! Besides, how many times has Cas up and disappeared for days or weeks without so much as a word? No way in hell I’m feeling guilty about this one time, especially if it means he gets past this whole Debbie Downer shtick he’s been hung up on lately.”

“Right Dean. How totally selfless of you,” Sam smiled incredulously, shaking his head at his brother’s hair-brained scheming as he exited the car into the breezy night air. The metallic clatter of an ice bucket buffeted about the asphalt parking lot by the wind momentarily caught his attention. He dismissed it as a trivial detail.

Dean could barely contain the triumphant swagger threatening to burst forth from his person at any moment in the form of a victory dance, his green eyes flashing firework sparks in the pale artificial light as he hopped the small decorative fence in front of your motel door.

Setting you and Cas up to work a case together as a pre-text for meeting and falling hopelessly in love had been his idea. He’d known you for a good long while, appreciating your spunky but patient personality (spunky, but patient enough to endure his goofy shenanigans with a laugh and flat-out ignore any advances he made). He’d called you in on a few cases here and there over the years, keeping in touch with enough regularity to know you were still single and a little bit lonely as most hunters of your indomitable ilk tended to be. He also remembered your keen interest in hearing detailed accounts of his friend Cas, so much so you asked after the angel you’d never laid eyes upon every occasion you and Dean spoke, with Dean more than obliging in recounting (and frequently exaggerating) their unbelievable adventures – expounding Cas’ virtues like he was some fairy-tale prince for you to pine after. A supremely competent wingman, Dean laid the groundwork for your amorous inclinations toward the angel long before he knew what he was laying the groundwork for.

One caseless evening, teetering at the precipice of drunken insentience over a half-empty bottle of whisky with his mopey angelic friend planted dejectedly across the table droning on and on about bees or failure or some such nonsense to Dean’s disinterested ears, Dean’s inebriated mind divined the genius idea that you and Cas would be perfect for one another. Lord knew Cas needed someone spunky to inject some fun into his existence and show him the lighter side of life, someone patient and willing to listen to his endlessly odd meandering contemplations, to deal with his lack of hobbies beyond shadowing the brothers and the increasingly annoying 24/7 angels-don’t-require-sleep pacing of the bunker halls. Sure, Cas was family, but even family had its limits.

Cas likely would have brushed off Dean’s idea with nary a second thought, except for once Dean managed to kept his notoriously bombastic mouth shut. Sort of – he’d passed out, a thin string of spittle flowing over silent loose lips and cascading across the freckled back of his hand to pool on the table. Cas noted Dean did some of his most sincere listening whilst peaceably unconscious – mostly because the lack of voluntary muscle control severely hindered his ability to roll his eyes at the angel’s absurdly random musings.

Unlike Dean’s typical drunken theories, the notion of hooking you and Cas up still seemed absolutely brilliant when he awoke the next morning, head throbbing, cheek stuck to hand in turn stuck to table. Luckily, the first person he laid eyes on and enthusiastically spilled the proverbial beans to was his brother. Over a greasy diner breakfast to absorb whatever alcohol still circulated in Dean’s system and to avoid Cas’ innocently snooping angelic ears, Sam agreed to go along with the plan, primarily because Dean clearly wasn’t going to drop it any time soon and it was the fastest way to shut him up about it. Sam argued one caveat. He knew neither you or Cas would go along willingly on a traditional blind date. He also knew his brother would be unable to function in any kind of a normal and not overtly meddlesome capacity if you all simply worked a case together as an introduction. No, you had to be gently nudged in the right direction, free will and all being of utmost import – you and Cas had to choose each other, or at the very least have the illusion of choice.

Constructing a believable farce of a case (the best lies are based on truths – what better truth than a real case), setting the stage (leaving just enough clues in the bunker and bread crumbs in town to pique your interest and persistent concern), pulling the strings (ensuring you and Cas would both be at their beck and call at the same time and be compelled to help), and getting the logistics of the charade in place (easy-peasy when your late father, John Winchester, is something of a minor celebrity in the incredibly small town of Clifton Springs, NY where he saved the life of a perpetually grateful mayor’s son and his betrothed 13 years prior – all the folks in town practically tripping over each other to play their part in the strange production) – that was all 100% Sam Winchester. Yet despite Sam’s innumerable contributions without which none of this would have happened, and because the effort appeared to have been a resounding success based on Dean’s earlier phone call to Cas wherein he learned you and the angel evidently had gotten to know each other as intimately as possible, Dean Winchester intended to take full responsibility as match-maker extraordinaire.

Stationed before the motel door, fist poised to knock, Dean squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, donning a somber expression as he prepared to bask humbly in the glory of your everlasting gratitude.

Rolling his eyes, thoroughly done with the drama, Sam reached a lanky arm around his brother and thwacked a knuckle on the door – the door swung ominously inward without resistance.

Satisfaction stolen, Dean glowered at his brother before stepping jauntily across the threshold into the darkened room.

Intuiting something amiss, Sam’s bag dropped to the ground with a dull thud, his fingers instinctively reaching for and withdrawing the knife tucked discreetly inside his brown corduroy jacket. “Dean,” he warned in a hushed tone, yanking his brother stumbling backward by the coat collar.

“What?!” Dean whined, swatting Sam’s hand aside, ego too puffed up to recognize the blatant signs of a violent struggle before him.

“Dean, seriously?” Sam snorted, setting his jaw in the harsh manner that sufficed to belay both his worry and derision. He flicked the switch by the door, shedding further light on the situation.

Dean dispassionately examined the room – focus gliding over the unmade bed, overturned chairs and busted table, smashed picture frame, and random spattering of vivid red viscous fluid on the dingy carpet and multiple walls. He shrugged, snorting in retort, “Like I said, what?”

Sam’s square jaw threatened to dislocate just then under the gnashing force of teeth required to bite his tongue.

“Look, they’re just trying to get back at us,” Dean strode forward, picking up a snapped bloodied stump of table leg, using the pointed sliver of crimson painted wood to motion grandiosely around the room, “play us at our own game. The whole thing’s obviously staged.”

Wits undamped by over-inflated ego, Sam’s eyes alit on a wrinkled piece of pale beige toned mottled oddly familiar point of something vaguely flesh-like protruding out beneath the disjointed bed. Closer examination revealed the thing to be a crudely severed finger. And judging from the knobby rheumatic knuckles and age spots decorating the amputated bit, the severed finger of someone apparently elderly in years.

Dean could find no feasible way to explain this detached digit away as part of an elaborate payback hoax. You and Cas were indeed missing – really, actually, genuinely, and concerningly missing. Fortunately for everyone involved, Dean retains the remarkable ability to transition from jester to bad-ass hunter faster than anyone else in the known universe.

Continue Reading Act IV - Part II:

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[elizabethrobertajones]

I was wondering what you thought about soul canon for the show? I've been watching Buffy recently and trying to reflect over the difference between the vampires with and without souls and thought it would be interesting as applied to Cas. The idea being that without a soul one can only do things for selfish reasons (even if the actions are good) and you require one for a certain level of altruism. I personally think Cas grew a soul at some point, and I was wondering if you thought (1/2)

that some of his early actions on the show reflect this. For instance, the whole saving the world for Dean instead of for the fact that the world needs saving. Also just curious about your thoughts on the whole soul thing in general. :) (2/2)

I’m totally aboard the fanon train that Cas has had a soul since the end of 8x23 that hasn’t gone anywhere since, no matter what happened to him. Death said back in season 6 that souls couldn’t be broken, so I get the feeling you can’t just destroy one once you have it - Cas just keeps piling angel up on top of it. It seems to be forgotten and I’d kind of like it to stay that way unless the show is going to pull a scenario directly from a fan fic on us, because Cas is one of the only characters NOT to do a demon deal and he’s got a ruthless practicality about him that is a very bad combination when you hang out with Crowley :P If this ever comes up on the show NOT in the context of building Cas up to happy married retirement with Dean and a guinea pig, only bad will come of it :P

I’m less certain about how angels are different from not having a soul though. I’ve always understood what Anna says back in 4x10 about what angels are SUPPOSED to feel as being an order, but pretty much all the angels display emotions of some sort or another.

Actually, brief detour, but I watched 6x07 last night and was reminded that vampires in SPN work under, like, reverse Buffy rules:

Alpha Vampire: The boy with no soul. I’ve got big plans for you. It’s amazing how that pesky, little soul gets in the way. But not for you. You will be the perfect… animal.

I mean, even back in the first infodump about them ever, John told us that they mate for life in a sort of dismissive way you might describe, idk, that some animals do as well :P  But if you don’t look at it like John, it seems fairly straightforward to just assume vampires have a lot of messy human baggage because they remember their past lives and still act on emotion and feel love and mate for life like HUMANS do. Later lore doubles down on this by thinking much harder about where the human soul is in all this and I guess Dabbflin’s conclusion was that vampires have to be affected by its existence inside them even if they’ve been turned (there was no wider plot reason to this line so I assume that’s just a detail one of them liked :P). 6x05 showing you can be turned back from being a vampire also suggests some complicated, arcane “dibs” system on souls between Heaven, Hell and Purgatory even more than we already knew (though it does amuse me that the next time Dean “dies” after that it’s because he’s in Purgatory :P) … idk. Point is, having ANY sort of type of soul in you, even if it’s been twisted into a monster one, still has some of the burden of having a human soul.

Cas back in season 6 made a point of telling Crowley he didn’t have a soul to trade, but, well, one of my favourite quotes about Cas is the obvious “too much heart” one and that’s from the start of season 8, referring to 99% of everything he did before he’d feasibly have a soul. I think Cas rebelled because of love back in season 4 - I think maybe a much more hard to define kind of feeling that’s still arms length from messy human emotions, but I do wonder HOW far. Unlike vampires, angels were created to be good, and to love - their final orders were to love humanity, if I’m not mistaken? And they were originally created to love God? I think they’re actually creatures OF love, just in this sort of cosmic way (but which translates down to the family squabble of the apocalypse when all’s said and done… :P) 

I wonder if the difference is really just the freedom to love by choice whoever they like, and Anna fell to have that freedom… At the end of season 4 if you look at it through a non-shippy lens, Dean talks Cas over by reminding him of humanity, the original mission for the angels being to love and protect them. (I mean that still applies, but that’s also discarding all the character development between them and that Cas continually tells Dean he did everything because of him and like… the endless maintext confirmations of where Cas’s compass points :P Still, Cas’s rebellion is altruistically motivated because he chooses to believe in Dean’s greater good, not Heaven’s, so the end result is concern about humanity and who has the best idea about what to do for it.) 

And then later on the angels are in a total mess because they have all strayed so far from the original mission and they’re trapped in power struggles and all the immediate problems of Heaven, and they’re so short-sighted by the need for orders and their inability to exercise freedom and choice (without lengthy character arcs to realise it) that I think you could easily say that’s behind all the angel turmoil. Raphael in season 6 literally can’t comprehend a universe where they don’t follow what was supposed to be destiny - he’s Cas’s enemy because Cas is representative of freedom and choice, and deciding NOT to do it. But once Heaven doesn’t have an apocalypse to focus on, it crumbles about what its purpose is, despite the fact the angels all theoretically know what they’re supposed to be doing… 

(I do also think in season 6 Cas’s motivations are more complicated than JUST trying to save the world for Dean - he makes all his decisions through/about Dean but I think it is as much because Dean has shown him a way to live/things to believe in/a stake in the world to protect that can all be filtered through Cas’s experiences with Dean as to WHY he’s making the decisions, but just because Dean taught him to value the world in a certain way, that doesn’t mean Cas ONLY values it because Dean. He does genuinely love humanity, as much as we snark about that line about him being in love with ~humanity~)

Anyway, I see Cas as perfectly capable of making loving/altruistic choices before he has a soul, but afterwards - 9x11 through to current time - Cas is a changed angel and he chalks it up to his experience as a human, but it’s an immediate and permanent change to the softer, more vulnerable and emotive Cas we have now. I think from then on Cas does feel things much more intensely, in the messy, human way, even if he goes to great pains to pretend he doesn’t. I don’t think it changes his fundamental ability to love, but I think it changes the way he expresses it and how much sway he lets it have on his life. The end of season 9, with Metatron’s taunting, is a very good example of that. Cas has always acted on emotion but Metatron takes a great delight in pointing out that it wasn’t altruistic but selfish love that Cas acted against him for. Not for ~humanity~ but for Dean.

So again I think it’s completely backwards from Buffy; that if Cas changed at all it was going from more altruistically driven love to being able to choose what he wanted to love with complete freedom: after 9x23 Cas’s choices are always directly about Dean, in a much more open way. He helps get rid of the Mark and has no other conflict of interest in the second half of season 10 (and I’d argue the Hannah stuff in the first half shows as a mirror to Cas that he is letting go of this conflict of interest and following the “human things” that matter to him instead of Heaven’s orders for once) and in season 11 his relationship with Dean is at the centre of the PTSD and feelings of worthlessness that lead him to saying yes to Lucifer (of his own free choice as a being capable of being possessed and having to consent to an angel) - from 11x14 onwards he’s only still possessed because he wanted to use Lucifer to save Dean. In season 12 he’s dealing with some shit but it seems from the fact he has to leave (handled much better than all the other leaving in the 3rd episode times lately for some reason :P) seems to be very much about a hurdle to get over before he can feel at home and it looks like it’s going to be super personal again in the second half of the season…

And I think the ability to love selfishly is a much more human thing at least by Supernatural’s rules, because it’s being able to choose something for yourself, and for an angel, to defy the orders of the unconditional and impersonal love they were supposed to have. Since to me that IS the most human thing (which the show always has triple underlined as free will), and the way Cas changes after when I think he would have a soul even while being an angel, I think that’s much more a sign he has a soul BECAUSE his love is selfish now? (Selfish in the sense of “being about himself” not that he’s doing bad things to hoard that love all for himself or something :P)