The Supernatural Wardrobe Warehouse [x]
How can the costume department even see in there with the blinding glory of all that plaid and cotton blend?
OH. MY. FREAKING. GOD. THIS. EXISTS. COME ON EVERYBODY, WE’RE TAKING A FIELD TRIP!!!!!!!
When Castiel had first arrived at Dean’s home, he had been herded so quickly to Dean’s Chamber by Sam and Jessa that he hadn’t got a good glimpse of his surroundings. Now, as he and Dean descend the stairs, he has more of a chance to look. The fortress has long hallways with heavy curtains draping the windows. There isn’t any sort of art or paintings on the walls, only shelves and shelves of books seem to line every corridor.
“They belong to Sam,” Dean says, catching Castiel twisting his head to examine the spines. “I am sure if you’d like to read more, he can provide you some.” Castiel smiles and squeezes Dean’s hand.
“I’m good, Dean,” he assures. He glances over his surroundings. “Was this your father’s home before he..?” Castiel turns to face Dean and almost instantly regrets his words. Dean’s brow pinches together in thought.
“You don’t have to tell-” Castiel rushes out.
“It was,” Dean interrupts. “He had built it for my mother.”
“Your mother? But I thought-?”
“She chose to stay in her village,” he supplies sadly. Castiel is interested to know why, but he doesn’t want to push Dean further into his gloom. They walk in silence before coming upon the dining hall. Castiel had been expecting some sort of large, cavernous dining room, like something out of Game of Thrones, but the space is far more intimate. It reminds Castiel of the annexed study areas at the school’s library. A long, polished wooden table sits in the center surrounded by a few chairs. Oil lamps cast a golden glow as a few servants place wooden bowls of food on the table. Castiel catches Jessa’s eye across the room where she is speaking with Sam and Hobb. He gives her a little wave. Dean lets out a triumphant little noise as he goes to grab an apple before his hand is smacked away by a dark-haired woman.
Everyone wants Balthazar and Gabriel back
but what about Samandriel
just look at this lil cutie
how can you resist this
and he was actually a good guy okay actually a good angel like how rare is that
CAN YOU FEEL MY TEARS
you know what would be the coolest though
of ‘it’s funnier in enochian’
you weren’t supposed to like this post
yes we were
hey look I made nametags for EVERYONE IN THE SPN FANDOM
Fem!Sabriel because I do what I want
Sami sits in the passenger seat, mesmerized, as Gabrielle scrutinizes herself in the rear view mear of the idle car. She produces a small tube of chapstick, uncapping it and spreading the balm over the soft swell of her bottom lip. She presses her lips, smoothing the buttery substance over them.
“Mmm, raspberry,” Gabrielle mumbles, puckering up a bit and giving the mirror a coy smirk. She catches Sami staring at her, hazel eyes zeroed in on her mouth. She tenses when she catches Gabrielle looking at her, one brow cocked curiously
“Want some, Sami?” she offers the tube to the taller girl. Sami’s shakes her head nervously, “You sure?” Gabrielle draws out the last word, leaning over the gear shift toward the passenger seat. Sami’s eyes widen and a faint flush appears on her cheeks. Gabrielle loves disarming her this way.
“O-ok,” Sami mumbles, taking the tube from her. Gabrielle leans in closer, delicately pushing a long strand of brown hair over Sami’s ear. She let’s her hand fall lightly along Sami’s jawline as she pulls her in for a kiss.
Sami is tense and unresponsive as Gabrielle works her lips over Sami’s wide, soft mouth. There’s a brief moment where she feels she may have gone too far with her friend, but then all at once Sami moves against her. He tongue slips past Gabrielle’s, warm and inviting and bringing the taste of raspberry chapstick with it. Sami’s hand’s tangle into Gabrielle’s honey-blond hair and a soft moan escapes her throat. Gabrielle pulls back with a soft giggle, a little breathless from the kiss. She runs her tongue over her lips, the taste of berries being replaced by the taste of one Samantha Winchester.
“Sweet,” she murmurs.