“Can you say ‘da-da’? Come on, Sammy! Da-da. ’sreal easy! You can do it!”
The baby just giggled, bearing his baby gums where all those teeth were starting to poke through, and those dimples on his cheeks that Dean liked a whole lot because if he could see those, then Sam was smiling, and he didn’t do too much of that. He was a baby. He cried all the time. Sammy didn’t say anything, though, just pushed his lips out and blew through them, blowing hot air onto Dean’s face. He giggled. ”Thass not what I said, Sammy! C’mon! Da-da! You can do it!”
“Pffffffffff!”
“Oh, Sammy. You’re cute but you’re totally useless! C’mon, say, ‘da-da.’ It’s easy!”
“Dean! Would you quiet the hell down?! I’m tryin’ to concentrate here! Jesus fuckin’ Christ…”
Dean’s entire body seized up as he jumped four feet into the air, startled by John’s loud and innocuous voice echoing through the house.
“Y-Y-Yessir!”
It’s quiet for a moment, dead quiet. Dean feels guilty. He can feel the heat of it pooling in his belly and he wants to curl into a ball and cry because he hates it when John curses, but then Sam reaches out and pulls on Dean’s shirt. It doesn’t mean anything, Sam’s just a baby, but Dean pulls him into his arms anyways and cuddles with him, and that’s when Sam says his first word.
“Dee!” Tiny baby hands reach out and push Dean’s cheeks together, and then Sam laughs. ”Dee! Dee!”
And Dean can’t stay sad for long, so he smiles back, wrapping his hands around Sam’s and pulling them away from his face. ”You’re supposed to say ‘dada.’ Do you listen to anything anyone says, Sammy?”
“Dee.”
“Sammy.”
“Dee!”
“Sammy!”
“Dee.” Sam falls forward into Dean’s arms, tucking his head into the crook of Dean’s shoulder. He falls asleep about two minutes later, and so does Dean, and they stay like that for a while, cuddled and tangled in each other asleep because John doesn’t have the heart to wake them.
(via sammysbutt)
So apparently Jake Abel had quite the adventure this afternoon…
(via sammysbutt)
We just came back from a Supernatural convention and now we have spare autographs, so we thought we’d do a big Tumblr giveaway!
Prizes
These 10x8” photos have been signed by Misha Collins and Mark Sheppard. They’re not prints, they have been touched by the actors themselves ;) We will pick two winners. The first winner will get their choice of autograph, and the second winner will get the other one.
Rules
- You’re not obligated to follow Geeky Merch, but check it out - you might like it. :)
- You can reblog as many times as you like, just don’t be too excessive. If you use a giveaway-reblogs-only blog we won’t choose you, because spamming is unfair to everyone else who enters the giveaway.
- We will ship anywhere!
We’ll randomly choose a winner and message them on 20th June!
Good luck!
Love from,
Geeky Merch ♥
notice how the british way of spelling those words are underlined in red!!!
america: 1
britain: 0
notice how every other country in the world hates you
(via romanorgasm)
And suddenly from a long ficwriting dry spell, 1000 words appear, because this AU is delish and astroize seems like a nice person, and her fanarts are asdgahlhjksdladlahlh. This is maybe from when Castiel first begins training Dean-
She notices the way he looks at her son, all hard, resentful looks. Mary’s husband, John, had decreed that the angel-knight’s bond would only be broken if Dean trained under Castiel’s tutelage.
Mary had never given her approval to John’s edict- she had never wanted free will to be taken from the angels, for them to be bound to the earth when they were meant to be free in the sky. Sure, she sees them circling and swooping above the Winchester Castle, free to roam the land but it is as a falcon that must always hearken back to its falconer: John bids the angels be still and the angels must be still.
She remembers an angel once telling her to ‘Be unafraid’- she thinks that this indentured servitude that John has forced upon the angels is poor recompense for the comfort she once received from Anna.
But John will insist, will be pig-headed and narrow-minded when it comes to the protection he has sworn for the people of his kingdom- it is an oxymoron, John’s brutish actions guided by John’s need to protect his people. Mary would have sympathized if she had not numbered many of the angels to be her friends.
She is glad that Gabriel, at least, has had his bonds dissolved.
But she sees Anna, Rachel and Hester on the training grounds nearly everyday. And, though, they never betray their resentment at being tied to House Winchester, Mary can imagine and she can see the unfettered beauty in their movements on the training field, the passion and the ringing clatter and bang of their swords, how they were never meant to be tamed and were always meant to be wild.
Mary sighs as she turns her head to look at where Castiel stands on the training ground, straight-backed and unsmiling. Dean meanwhile stands with a hip cocked out and a stubborn expression on his face, brows drawn down- Mary immediately recognizes her son to be in a stroppy mood, the kind where he brings out the swagger and the provocative words.
If she’s honest, Mary would confess to being a little concerned about her son’s well-being. That indomitable spirit of Dean’s will get him in trouble one day and while Mary knows that Castiel would not hurt Dean deliberately, she also knows that there is no love lost between the two.
Mary draws closer to where the two are facing off- she imagines that she will have to mediate at some point, perhaps even throw herself bodily between the two because Castiel’s look seems to darken evermore, the longer he considers Dean.
Meanwhile, Dean’s smile has turned mean, and he idly twirls his sword in his hand, careless as you please.
Mary cannot not help but notice how beautiful both men are, though, how well they contrasted with each other- Castiel so pale and dark and Dean, her fair sun-kissed son: Mary considers Dean’s good looks with an almost smirking maternal pride.
She watches as Castiel teaches Dean how to bring a sword down and up in an under-cut, how he goes through the motions slowly and clearly and, at least, he is sincere in teaching this art to Dean, Mary thinks. Castiel waits for Dean to demonstrate what he has learned and Mary watches how Dean’s innate skill takes over, how his fighting stance is natural-born until it suddenly isn’t.
Castiel’s angelic reflexes had swept under Dean’s guard to disarm the prince and at the same time to push the prince to the ground. Mary can feel her heart beating rapidly as she watched Castiel staring down at Dean with a haughty, bored look on his face.
‘Your enemies will never fight a clean fight,’ Castiel says expressionlessly as he stares down at Dean whose face is fairly shining with an incandescent rage. ‘It’s the human condition to be underhanded,’ Castiel continues on inexorably, ‘We angels have had to adapt to humanity’s ways in matters of combat.’
‘I imagine you find that to be oh-so-very demeaning, knight-angel,’ Dean hisses finally.
‘I am tasked with teaching you to fight, boy,’ Castiel says evenly, ignoring Dean’s retort. ‘A hopeless task, I should think, because I do not imagine you to know the true measure of a sword- the nobility and honour within its making and its wielding.’
‘Do you enjoy having your prince on his back and at your feet?’ Dean demands hotly, ignoring Cas equally in return.
Mary thinks that there would be a lot more equanimity between the two if they would just stop ignoring each others words. Then again, perhaps, their words would just incite them to murder each other.
Castiel’s mouth curves into a mean smile as he gives Dean’s body a slow and exacting once-over. ‘I don’t see anything particularly enjoyable on display at the moment.’
A palpable hit, Mary thinks dryly, as Dean flushes, his fists settling on the ground as he pushes himself up off them and back onto his feet. Dean leans in until millimetres separate his and Castiel’s face, ‘I’ve heard all about your dalliances, Sir Knight! You speak of honour and nobility with your mouth when it is heard that you sully such good and stout words with that selfsame mouth.’ Here Dean mimes a gesture that Mary really should not be shocked to learn that her son knows- and yet here Mary is with her hand over her mouth in shock, and it seems Dean’s not finished, ‘How you’re a slu-‘
‘That is enough, the both of you!’ Mary intervenes, giving Dean the sternest look she can muster. Dean subsides shame-facedly enough, and Mary turns her coldest look upon Castiel as he straightens from his deferent obeisance to her. Her blue eyes meet his blue eyes, and she sees him for the good person that he is and indeed a large part of her secretly admires the fight that he puts up, how he does not take the slights that Dean throws upon him with peaceable expressions. But this is not seemly, nor the proper way for a Queen’s son to be treated.
‘My son will not be provoked,’ Mary states evenly and she ensures that Castiel hears the command in her voice. Castiel meets her eyes, and then stares past her as he folds his hands behind his back and gives a short nod. Mary eyes the severe line of his mouth for a moment before she about-faces sharply only to catch Dean openly pulling a terrible face in Castiel’s direction.
Mary sighs and shakes her head, even as she turns her son around and steers him back to the castle.
(via castianity)
so my little brother has avengers legos and i just saw that he had the loki one set up like this and i was so confused for a minute and then i figured it out
he’s roasting marshmallows
“Over all the millennia, only you have ever loved me, Thor. Only you have ever looked at me with affection in place of condescension. Why, then, am I killing you, and not the others? Because you stopped.”
(via diaphanous-darlin)
Wall Drawings with Black Marker by Charlotte Mann
Stacee Kalmanovsky - Rain, 2005 - suspended glass droplets
