swift--fox

[swift--fox]

[swift--fox]

so. i know i said i was taking an indefinite hiatus, buuuuut...

here's my official tickletober 2022 prompt list!!!!

ive had quite a few people ask me if i was making one this year, and originally i wasn't gonna due to a severe lack of time on my end, but god i just couldnt resist lmao

i wanted these ones to be heavily spooky themed - big thanks to @ivenakaloser for helping me come up with most of them!! <33

enjoy!! and tag me so i can see any art you guys make with my prompts when the time comes <3333

ps; i will not be making the same mistake twice SO i made sure day 31 wasnt misspelled becos i will never live that down lmao

[swift--fox]

after cas is taken by the empty, after dean has been consumed by the bone-chilling cold from the floor that has crept into every cell of his body, he’s suddenly angry. irrationally and irrevocably angry.

storming out of the room, dean marches down the hallways in a familiar path to cas’ room. flinging the door open with enough force to splinter the door, dean tears into the room and kicks over the desk chair.

fists against wood, dean smashes against the desk and rips at the neat papers and books perfectly left by cas. small keychains dean had given him and old fake IDs ripped apart and thrown against the wall.

the bed was next. a bed they could’ve shared together. a bed they could’ve called theirs. “how dare you!” dean cries, pillows and mattress pulled apart until pieces were strewn everywhere. “we could’ve had this!”

glass bottles and jars of things cas has collected over the years shattered against the floor. spare shirts and old ties torn at the seams. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!” dean screams, kicking apart the bed frame and shredding pictures.

and that was when dean saw it. in the last drawer that wasn’t in shambles. a mixtape. his mixtape to cas. his love confession. all the fight drained from dean’s body and he sunk to the floor in the rubble and debris. splinters of wood and shards of glass sticking against his skin as trembling fingers gently plucked the mixtape from the drawer.

“you left me alone. you left after saying those words. why cas? why?” dean whispers, the tears burning thick at the back of his throat. and then, even more agonizing then the simmering rage and the destruction, dean presses the mixtape against his heart. “I love you, too, cas. I always did. I always will.”

leaning his back against the wall, eyes blurring as he looked at the complete devastation that cas’ room now was, dean ached with regret. the only pieces of cas that he had left and he’d just gone and ripped it all apart. cas was gone. and so was cas’ room. all that was left was the mixtape.

in tiny black font, almost imperceptible on the bottom of the cassette were four words that cas had never noticed. dean traces his fingertips over them now, etching the words into a prayer that he begs cas to hear.

‘I love you, cas.’

[swift--fox]

devotion that corrupts is my favorite btw there's nothing wrong with it ever & it should be encouraged

#destiel core

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Cas chose that baby and then they were born and cas had a little autistic upside down badge holding head tilting I don’t understand that reference ass son who he loved unconditionally and read parenting books for and took online classes for and pulled out the cereal prize for who was so loved in return that this baby dredged cas from The Depths of non afterlife. TWICE.

[swift--fox]

tumblr’s like “merry christmas all words are illegal now”

[swift--fox]

N! It's good to see you! We never connected, but it's so good to see you back, and I'm really happy you've been able to grow, and find who you are again!

I’m back?

As my blog title suggests, I’m here for the nostalgia; tucking my tail between my legs and returning after what I assume was a dramatic exit that some might’ve found unnecessary, but I know I needed. And I grew during the two years I was away. I grew so much I know I don’t want to use this blog like I used nhasablog, but I miss it. I miss checking in, I miss talking to people, I miss writing. Even though I’m not writing much these days, this is me grasping for something that used to be the better part of my life back when I wasn’t okay.

I deleted nhasablog because it was turning into a toxic place for me, partly due to my own behavior, but also partly due to people’s expectations and demands and occasionally rude messages. But I’m not here to blame anyone anymore. I’ve put it behind me and know I’m ready to make a tentative return, even if I only end up existing rather than creating. I don’t know. Why would I revive this place after years if I’m not planning on using it like I used to? I’m honestly not sure. I just know I woke up today with the need to return, which is a need I’ve felt plenty of times. I finally think I’m able to put enough distance between this and my own life if things don’t feel good without constantly checking it. That’s one of the reasons I deleted rather than just left - I knew I wouldn’t be able to just leave. I knew I would be checking for messages and whatnot, which wasn’t good for me. Always put your own needs first.

To people who have no idea who I am: hi! I’m N. I used to be a tickle fic writer, but I deleted my blog. This post probably doesn’t need to be this long, but I was known for never keeping things short hah. But yeah, nice to meet you!

Obviously this blog is called nhasablogg rather than nhasablog because that username isn’t available despite me not finding any blog with that url? But maybe this is good. A fresh start. No matter whatever I end up doing on here.

This does feel weird because I am aware I’m talking into a void, but if anyone who knew me sees this - hello! This is a sideblog, just like nhasablog used to be, so I can’t follow people, but I’m lurking as always.

To the people I might’ve been rude to all those years ago - I’m truly sorry. I wasn’t my best version back then, but I’m learning. I’m sorry I took it out on you.

To the people who were rude to me - I forgive you. I realize you never asked for that, but you don’t forgive people because they asked.

I feel like I should tag people?? But it feels strange?? But I’ll do it anyway so:

@ticklishraspberries @wordstrings @sour–strawberries / @lemonsandstrawberries @calmturquoise @fickle-tiction god who else I feel like I’ve forgotten everything

[swift--fox]

Cas doesn’t even realize he’s a dad to two kids. Not until both Jack and Claire call him ‘dad’ when they’re playing games in the Bunker. “Dad, do you wanna play a game?” Jack asks, and of course Cas says yes. Jack drags Claire to play too, and when Cas scores the winning roll of the dice, Claire cries, “Oh c’mon Dad, that’s not even fair!” and Cas is suddenly overwhelmed with so much love because these are his kids and he loves them immensely

[swift--fox]

so much hate on the dash rb to hug the person you reblogged this from <3

#ily bestie

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happy werewolf transgenderism wednesday

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no im pretty sure dean tickles cas

[swift--fox]

Graphoerotica

Dean and Cas are studying for midterms, and Cas is sick of listening to his boyfriend degrade himself. So he takes matters into his own hands to prove Dean is worth more than he thinks. And maybe Cas learns a thing or two about his boyfriend along the way

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A/N: This fic has been sitting in my WIP folder for way too long. Over 6 months to be exact. Its not exactly done, and their may be a part two in the distant future, but I can’t promise it’ll be right away. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy these two’s buffoonery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours had gone by since classes had let out for the day, and the college campus was notably quiet. Uncommon on a Friday night, though not unwelcome to most of the college students; grateful for the silence emanating from the usual bustling hallways. Dean and Cas were cozied up in their dorm room, nose deep in their respective textbooks, studying for next week’s midterms. Dean was splayed out on the bed, knees bent while he lightly bounced his feet in the air, elbows propped so he could read. Castiel was sitting in his desk chair, one leg folded up, an arm wrapped around his shin. His chin rested on his bent knee. The only sound for the past 45 minutes was the occasional page turning, or the sound of a pen jotting notes. Dean started to get restless.

Keep reading

#reblogging myself

[swift--fox]

Graphoerotica

Dean and Cas are studying for midterms, and Cas is sick of listening to his boyfriend degrade himself. So he takes matters into his own hands to prove Dean is worth more than he thinks. And maybe Cas learns a thing or two about his boyfriend along the way

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This fic has been sitting in my WIP folder for way too long. Over 6 months to be exact. Its not exactly done, and their may be a part two in the distant future, but I can’t promise it’ll be right away. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy these two’s buffoonery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours had gone by since classes had let out for the day, and the college campus was notably quiet. Uncommon on a Friday night, though not unwelcome to most of the college students; grateful for the silence emanating from the usual bustling hallways. Dean and Cas were cozied up in their dorm room, nose deep in their respective textbooks, studying for next week’s midterms. Dean was splayed out on the bed, knees bent while he lightly bounced his feet in the air, elbows propped so he could read. Castiel was sitting in his desk chair, one leg folded up, an arm wrapped around his shin. His chin rested on his bent knee. The only sound for the past 45 minutes was the occasional page turning, or the sound of a pen jotting notes. Dean started to get restless.

“Break time?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I think so. I’m starting to see double…” Cas moved his leg to the floor, and reached for his temples, massaging them gently. “What do you want to do?”

“Anything but this. The textbook is mocking me. I can hear it laughing at how stupid I am,” Dean laughed dryly.

“You are not stupid.” Came the reply of a clearly burnt out college student.

“Says you. I’m gonna fail if I don't get how…” He trailed off, glaring at his textbook, “the Ancient Roman Empire shaped modern societal policies. God… Latin is easy compared to this crap. It’s so friggin’ stupid.”

Cas huffed out a small laugh, “You just contradicted yourself.” He said, swiveling in his chair so he could see his disgruntled boyfriend on the bed. He laughed again, seeing the heap of limbs. Dean’s face was now hidden in his elbows, textbook thrown aside. His legs had stilled, resting flat on the mattress, his shoulders tense with frustration. He harrumphed disapprovingly.

“You cannot say you’re stupid, and ‘Latin is easy’ in the same sentence, Dean. It doesn’t work like that,” Cas mused.

“Possum et ego, noli dicere non possum. Nunc, quid vis ut faciam tibi?” Dean muttered into his arms.

“I have no idea what you just said, but you did just prove my point.” Cas rolled his eyes, a smile etched onto his face.

“I said, loosely translated, ‘I can and I will. Now, what do you wanna do?’ We don’t have all night.” He growled into his arms. Cas knew his frustrations weren’t directed towards him, but he still hated hearing his other half so upset.

“Here, I have an idea,” Cas grabbed a blue ball point pen off his desk and dragged himself towards the bed, the scraping of the desk chair wheels clued Dean into his movements.

“Wha– Hey!–” 

With the blue pen Brandished in his left hand, he rucked Dean’s shirt up to his ribs. Dean squirmed against the mattress and made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. Aside from that, though, he didn’t protest further. Castiel pressed the tip of the pen to the small of Dean’s back and paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. 

“This might feel weird,” He added, flipping the pen to press the blunt end into the dip of his spine, gently dragging it up the groove and coming to press on the back of his ribcage. Dean shuddered underneath him and Castiel marvelled at the goosebumps the pen left in its wake. 

Before Dean could voice a questioning complaint, Cas twirled the pen in his fingers. The cold tip landed between the indents of his two center back ribs, nearest his left side. Dean sucked in a breath and stilled, waiting for whatever Cas had planned to do. He had a pretty good guess and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

Then, there was a squiggle going along his back. It never reached his spine, but the goosebumps it produced covered the entirety of his back. He couldn’t tell what Cas was writing, but he guessed they were words, seeing as how the pen released off his skin every couple seconds. Dean screwed his eyes shut, a small smile etched on his face, which he kept steadfastly pressed into the mattress. The pen did feel weird.  

Once Cas was finished he sat back up with a small hum of approval, and a nod of his head. Dean craned his neck questioningly.

“What’re you doin?” 

When Cas didn’t answer, Dean propped himself up on his elbow to twist and look at the writing. He didn’t quite get to read it before there was a warm hand on his shoulder, and he was being flipped onto his back. Through the daze, he felt a very solid weight settle over his thighs and pin him to the bed. He wasn’t complaining, but he did let out a startled noise while his downright devious looking boyfriend straddled him. Cas grabbed the hem of Dean’s shirt and helped him wiggle it over his head, tossing it somewhere in the general direction of the hamper. 

“Oh, hel-lo,” Dean grinned, and reached out to return the favor. His hands were promptly gathered and seized at the wrists. Cas leaned back onto his ankles and stuck the captured hands under his own legs, before resettling his weight. Dean’s heart rate skyrocketed and he swore he felt his pupils dilate. 

“No touching until I’m done,” He scolded. 

Dean raised an eyebrow and squirmed excitedly.

“I can get on board with that.” 

Cas leaned forward, pen poised like an extension of himself, a salacious smirk on his face. 

“It’s not as if you had a choice, but I appreciate your cooperation,” 

The cold and pointed tip of the pen pressed just beneath Dean’s left pec, and he flinched against his will. Ever so slowly, it began dragging across his skin in a practiced pattern that must have been more words - though, which ones, he still couldn’t tell. He felt his breath hitch. The pen was...tingly, the feeling bordered too close to tickling, and he had to find a way to distract himself from the feeling. He turned his attention to Cas, watching as he wrote. It kind of worked, he became preoccupied with the way the unruly hair stuck out and drooped in front of his boyfriends eyes, his right hand constantly brushing it back. 

Cas finally finished his second sentence strewn on the body beneath him. He looked at it, pleased with himself.

“Dean Winchester is smarter than he gives himself credit for,” He read aloud, fond eyes flickered over to Dean’s face, which was steadily turning red. 

“Shuddup,” He muttered, desperately biting back a shy smile. 

“Fine,” Cas shrugged, flipping the pen to the blunt end again. He dragged it down toward Dean's belly, stopping on the left side of his abdomen.  Dean’s eyes were shut again, and he turned his head, desperate to hide his face. Cas took no notice as the pen was flipped again. He began writing on the thin skin just beneath his belly button.

Dean was struggling as a small huff left his lips. The writing jumped from tingly, kind of ticklish, to just ticklish, and he was desperate to squirm away from the touch. His brain was fighting logic and reason against pleasure and desire. The compliments Cas was writing on him were hard to process, but the attention and affection he was receiving was addicting. On top of that, this was the closest Cas had gotten to tickling him for longer than a couple of seconds. He knew if he squirmed, it could only go one of two ways: this game of theirs would come to a halt because Cas would feel bad (so he has yet to tell him he likes being tickled, sue him), or Dean would have to explain why it was okay to continue. Neither of those options seemed remotely fun. 

He settled on the third option; hiding his reactions as best he could.

Through Dean’s inner battle with himself, it took him a moment to realise the pen wasn’t moving anymore. He opened his eyes, moved his head from where it was buried in the comforter, and looked down. He could see the blue strip of writing, but was unable to read it in his current position. He looked up, about to ask Cas, when he was met with bright blue eyes.

“Smart and beautiful,” Cas read out.

Dean sputtered, words catching in his throat. He could feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Okay, so the compliments were really hard to process.

“Cas, I–” Dean was shushed by a finger landing on his lips. He wasn’t sure if Cas didn’t want him to finish his thought, or knew there wasn’t one bubbling. Either way, he silently thanked whatever God shone upon him in that moment, and shut his mouth. He opted to just stare at his boyfriend.

Cas moved the pen up the center of his sternum, as Dean relaxed back into the mattress. He wasted no time scribbling his next sentence. The feeling here was easier to manage, Dean had decided. The ink was cold, but the movement of the pen gliding over his skin was nice. If Cas ever wanted to use his chest as a canvas, he definitely wouldn’t mind. The pen was lifted from his skin all too quick, and he almost whined at the loss of contact. He looked down again, this time making the words out a little better.

“Heart of pure gold, soul light as the feather of Ma’at,” Cas read out, as the college student under him followed the words with him this time.

“That’s Egyptian, Cas. Not Romanian,” Dean laughed.

“That’s true, but you are the one who taught me that. You are incredibly smart, and I’m not stopping until you can admit that to yourself,” Cas countered.

Dean felt the back of the pen start its journey to the next location on his abdomen. His eyes went wide for a split second as they stopped at the indent of his left hip, flinching involuntarily. He knew if Cas was going to set up shop there, he was screwed. His eyes flickered down to where the pen was sitting. It raised from his skin and twirled upright in the hand that wielded it. He felt the ink laden metal land on his skin, and looked up, trying desperately to hide the panic in his voice.

“Cas, wait!” But Cas ignored him, starting to scribble his next bout of affections on Dean’s body.

Dean screwed his face up, trying with all his might to keep from giggling. He instinctively pulled at his hands still trapped under knees, and his hips squirmed against the onslaught of ticklish sensation. Cas stopped and looked up, seeing the pained look on Dean’s face.

“Dean, are you okay? What happened?” Cas asked, moving to release his arms.

Dean’s eyes opened,  as he felt the weight on top of him move. Damnit. Damnit. Damnit, he thought to himself. He racked his brain for any way to fix this, and keep this game going without having to voice what happened, or have to go into detail about what he actually wanted.

“Sorry, it just felt…weirder on my hips,” Yeah, that’s believable, right? “I’ll be more ready this time.” He tried to reassure both Cas and himself.

“If you’re sure,” Cas looked at him hesitantly before resituating himself on Dean’s thighs He decided to release the currently captive hands, though. Clearly Dean was enjoying this, even if he hadn’t technically voiced it. The fact he didn’t jump at the possibility of being released was a good enough indicator.

Cas resumed his writing, but stopped again when there was a definite writhing of the hips under him. He looked up, and there Dean was, with his face covered by his now free hands. But this time, it wasn’t contorted. No, he was biting his bottom lip, and a smile was etching its way along his features.

“Oh, I’m sorry, this is tickling you isn’t it? I can move,” Cas offered. He was about to move the pen when Dean interjected.

“It’s fine Cas, I can handle it.”

“But I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, that’s the opposite of what I am trying to do here,”

“You clearly don’t know how I react to compliments then, do you? It’s fine Cas, this is the most comfortable part of this whole experience,” Dean immediately tensed. His eyes went wide as he met a blue piercing gaze. He averted his eyes as soon as he registered they were making eye contact. Was that his outside voice? “Umm… I mean… um, shit.” Dean scrubbed his burning face with his hands before letting them flop on either side in defeat.

“Point is. It’s fine if you keep going.” He tried to save his dignity with a nonchalant comment. He could feel his face getting hotter with every word. He was sure he looked like a blubbering tomato by now.

Cas looked at him quizzically. Like he was trying to solve the last word of a crossword puzzle. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t place it. He moved the pen back to Dean’s hip ever so slowly. Curiously. There was something here he was missing, he just couldn’t figure out what.

For the first time since he started the masquerade of forced affection on Dean’s skin, he watched for his boyfriend’s reactions. He noticed Dean tense, sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, and chewed on it slightly. That smile returned, but it wasn’t forced, or contorted. It was light. Happy. As the pen made contact, he felt Dean tense again, but the arms that covered his flushed face didn’t move.

When the pen didn’t start writing, Dean opened his eyes. He braved a glance toward Cas. He wasn’t expecting to be met with such a calculating look on his boyfriend’s face. He didn’t have much time to mull over it though, as Cas chose that moment to start writing again. He threw his head back, and tried desperately to keep still. Turns out he could only control one reaction at a time. Now that he was trying to keep still more than anything, the giggles that were rising up his throat were harder to keep under wraps. 

He felt each letter as it was spelled out on his skin, the light, short strokes of Cas’s sketchy linework was easier to deal with, he thought. At least it would be over soon - he only had so much room, right? But as Cas kept writing, he realized the penmanship was venturing across his waistband. 

As the pen hit the bony structure of his right hip, it rectracted from his skin. Dean sighed in relief, and relaxed a little bit.

But then Cas went back. He retraced lines with more confidence, pressing harder, dragging the pen with purpose. The dam that had been holding back all his reactions didn’t so much break as it did crack. Sputtering giggles shook Dean’s body while he did his best not to squirm or get in Cas’s way. His boyfriend, of course, noticed this right away and Dean swore he saw a smirk on that fucker’s beautiful face. 

It was such a minute change, but it made all the difference as Cas went over each letter again, but this time the lines were a little off to the right (yes, he could tell). He was grateful he was able to bore through with nothing more obnoxious leaving his mouth than a half-aborted snort and some giggles. 

Of course, he spoke too soon. Again.

A firm and precise scribbling along where Dean assumed the letters were, fully shattered his proverbial dam. Bright and musical laughter tumbled from his vocal chords as the tip of the pen assaulted the jut of his hip, he writhed as much as Cas’s weight allowed him to and tossed his head back, legs lightly kicking the bed for purchase. But his hands never left covering his face.

The pen finally lifted for the last time over his waistband near the end of his right hip. Dean’s giggling slowly started dwindling.  He kept his face hidden behind his hands, but Cas could see his smile behind them.

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever,” He read aloud, eyes glued to Dean’s flushed face. Dean slowly let his hands fall from his face, hair matted to his forehead, eyes wide. He looked like he was in shock. 

“Don’t look so surprised, Dean. ” Cas smiled at him. “I think about you quite often.”

Cas placed the pen back on Dean’s waist. This time, he drew wavy lines sprouting from the phrase beneath it.  He was sure not to cover the “smart and beautiful” comment under his belly button.

“Speaking of… I think I have figured something out. About you.” He said, starting to draw little circles above the wavy lines. “I think you like this.”

Dean sputtered, but schooled his features. The lazy doodling Cas had moved onto was easier to handle compared to the onslaught of his hips. Residual giggles still fought to break free of his lungs though.

“W-wehell, you’re having fun, and all your attention is turned on me.” Dean waggled his eyebrows. He moved his arms from his face to behind his head. smirking. The pen still tickled, but not enough to actively fight the urge to bat Cas away, or hide his reactions. And he had an ego to uphold after all.

“That is true, but I think it goes deeper than that. I think you’re enjoying the sensations accompanied by my attention.” Cas said nonchalantly, moving to draw petals around the small circles.

All of a sudden his new position made him feel more exposed. The vulnerability that accompanied it was daunting as Cas’s words settled in against his skull. They felt like nails on a chalkboard.

“Wh-what?” Dean stuttered out, voice cracking. He tried to keep his arms from lowering, but he felt the muscles pull against his will. They screamed at him to protect himself. He was able to quiet the panic by lowering them just enough to free his hands from behind his head.

“I think – correct me if I’m wrong here – but, I think you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.” Cas added. Once the lines began to resemble flowers, he moved on to draw little leaves on each “stem”.

“I-I, umm. I have…no…umm…no idea what you’re…” Dean cut himself off, not even fooling himself.

Cas smirked. The asshole. And put the pen down for the first time since their game began.

“Let me give you an idea then.” Cas murmured silky smooth. His hands moved to Dean’s sides, and lightly dragged his fingertips up the muscle, before stilling below his ribs. “I think you like this. Being tickled, I mean.” Cas smirked, looking at Dean’s flustered face. “Now, I have to admit; you and I both know that my people skills are a little rusty, so I could be wrong here. Am I wrong, Dean?”

Dean’s arms immediately flew down. But instead of grappling with Cas’s hands, he felt them dig into the comforter. His breath hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to say something. Move something. But all he could do was lay there and wait.

With most people, Castiel would wait for verbal confirmation. He was never one to do anything without permission.  But the relationship he was in with Dean for the past year and a half taught him how to read his less than communicative boyfriend. If he wasn’t over the moon about this new realization, he might have kicked himself for not realizing it sooner.

“Well, if you’re not going to answer me, then I guess this–” Cas picked up the pen again, placing the cool metal in the dip between Dean’s collar bones. “–will suffice until you decide to tell me,”

Dean sucked in a breath, but held fast. He may not have his dignity anymore, but he can keep it at a zero. No need to go into the negatives. Besides, the pen on his pec didn’t feel terrible. In fact he enjoyed it. So his collarbone will probably be the same.

Yeah, he could do this without admitting that he liked being tickled, a little more than he was leading on. Even though he already knew that Cas knew. And that he knew that Cas knew, that he knew that Cas knew. But there is a big difference between knowing someone knows, and confirming it himself.

So, yeah, he was going to hold out. If for nothing but his non existent dignity.

#supernatural #destiel #ticklish!dean #dean winchester #castiel #College!AU #these two are idiots and i love them

[swift--fox]

the star trek aos / supernatural crossover nobody asked for 2/?

#okay but WHY do they look so good in gay spaceman movie suits

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why is the rittenhouse trial still going on like he killed people. drop him in a hole and be done with it

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one of many reasons castiel spent the first year of knowing dean trying not to strangle him: dean’s weird little winchester-only dialect

i’m fucking obsessed with this right now, so buckle in for a meta. a cool fun (horrible) thing about dean’s dialogue is that a good 90% of what comes out of his mouth is:

a pop culture reference (“you’re just gonna take some divine bong hit, and shazam, you’re roma downey?”)

references to real life phenomenon (“i don’t wanna wake up missing a kidney in a bathtub full of ice” “try new mexico, i hear he’s on a tortilla”)

these also often take the form of nicknames, and dean has a tendency to give people nicknames in general or call them something besides their given name, whether it’s affectionate or rude (“easy there, van damme” “so i’m girl interrupted” furthermore castiel = cas, ezekiel = zeke, etc, see also frequent use of “chucklehead” “asshat” and on the nicer/endearments end “buddy” “pal” “sunshine” etc)

an idiom (“a snowball’s chance” “if it smells like a duck…”)

slang (“drinking the koolaid” “jonesing for some hooch” not to mention the literal endless amount of words dean uses to refer to killing - gank, waste, juice, ice, etc)

a metaphor (“power up your batteries” “fly me back to my page on the calendar”)

a euphemism (“cloud seeding” “i’d have given you an hour alone with her first”)

sarcasm (his habit of replying “peachy” or “super” when asked how he is)

wordplay (see: the entire “vampirate” and “werepire” debacles)

completely nonsensical (guessing what happened to a magical artifact: “it was dug up by tomb raiders? it was seized by the king of the dead by warlords?”)

said at lightning speed - if you pay attention, dean actually talks a LOT, usually a mile a minute (this makes me feel a way when you recall him being nonverbal for a year at age 4 but that’s another post)

slang IN ANOTHER LANGUAGE (casual usage of “guano,” etc)

a lie, a deflection, a joke, etc

or worse, something dean’s NOT saying, deliberately, because he’s one of the most repressed people on earth

the end result of all this being:

dean winchester is utterly infuckingcomprehensible. 

think about this. there’s an ENTIRE SECTION on EVERY SINGLE EPISODE PAGE of the spn wiki devoted to JUST explaining dean’s pop culture references, because the average viewer won’t have seen everything he’s talking about either. they have a whole page for this called “hunter’s lingo,” but honestly, it’s not all hunters, just sam and dean’s fucking batshit communication style. even i don’t understand dean half the time. SAM gets it, sam speaks it back to dean a lot in the early seasons, but that’s because sam and dean are 1. practically two halves of the same person 2. FREAKS. every time we get an episode that involves outsider POV is devoted to them going “what the fuck is WRONG with them?”

enter castiel. technically speaking, the show implies that angels are omnilingual. castiel should understand every language known to man, but knowing the meaning of words doesn’t help him understand the following:

pop culture references

references to real life phenomenon

nicknames

idioms

slang

metaphors

euphemisms

sarcasm

wordplay

you get the idea.

listen to me. look me in the eyes. castiel cannot understand a single fucking word that comes out of dean’s mouth. my guy laid a hand on dean winchester in hell and immediately fell in love with him and has no fucking idea what he’s talking about ever. because not only is dean winchester’s way of speaking CLINICALLY insane, and sometimes incomprehensible even to other human beings who are not sam, castiel is an angel, and someone prone to taking things even more literally than other angels do

go back and watch and watch seasons 4-5 especially. the reason cas does so much squinting and head tilting is because every time dean opens his mouth castiel has to open up his mental “dean winchester dictionary” and translate entire paragraphs on the fly, because again, dean never shuts up!

what makes this extra hilarious to me is this gem:

this line is from 5.13. at this point cas has known dean for AN ENTIRE YEAR AND A HALF. what you see here is my guy SNAPPING. cas made an EFFORT in this scene. he asked who glenn close was. he’s telling dean that he can’t understand him. he is doing his level best to have a normal conversation with this guy he has a crush on and for the life of him he cannot do it (equal but opposite energy to cas blowing up the gas station and motel room in 4.01, tbh)

yes, cas can understand dean’s tone. he can use context clues, and he usually gets the general idea. and when cas DOES understand dean’s jokes, he laughs at them. the first time we ever see him smile is during their 4.07 heart-to-heart when dean says “it was a witch, not the tet offensive.” since cas has knowledge of human history, he knows what the tet offensive is; he got the joke, and he laughed.

but as far as actual dialogue goes, he consistently struggles to keep up. even after metatron gives castiel the pop culture knowledge in season 9, cas struggles to put it to put it to proper use (dean: “you wanna just walk right into the death star?” cas: “what does a fictional battle station have to do with this?”). whenever he asks dean to clarify it’s always when he’s most annoyed, like most of the time he knows it would be futile but he’s too annoyed to care. (dean: “i don’t know who’s on first, what’s on second!” cas: “what IS second???”) i’m pretty sure he spends seasons 4-6 wanting to shake dean by the shoulders and ask him why he is LIKE THIS. 

it takes cas - who, again, is omnilingual - YEARS to begin to acclimate to dean’s speech and start speaking that language back to him. it’s season 8 before we start really hearing him use slang, season 9 before he begins to understand wordplay, season 10 before he starts using pop culture references (to other angels, who immediately fail to understand him, which disappoints him immensely), and season 11 before he really gets into metaphors. i don’t remember what season he started using “yeah” instead of “yes” but i do know it took a really damn long time. 

and honestly, i don’t think cas truly got the hang of it until at least season 11-12. that’s something like 7 or 8 YEARS. it’s more than half the time they’ve known each other at the point of the series finale. 

so what’s true romance, fellas? it’s falling completely and totally in love with the most inexplicable person you will ever meet in your whole 4.5 billion year life, even though you have yet to understand a single thing he’s ever said to you. thank you for coming to my ted talk

[spn masterpost]

[swift--fox]

AAAAAAHHHHHHHH [X]