Greendeanwinchester - Greendeanwinchester

Aziraphale understands suffering only as an opportunity to show how "good" you are. He doesn't understand the suffering itself because he has not experienced it. Even though he's been on Earth for thousands of years, he has never had the displeasure of actually going through the negatives of the human experience. Angels don't age and die. Angels don't need money or shelter or food. In his mind, the worst things angels face are strongly worded letters. Smacks on the wrist because, of course, their whole being is good, but everyone makes little, harmless mistakes sometimes.

He has spent his time among the humans appreciating the positive aspects of life- the fine food and drink, the art, the creation and beauty and COMFORT. He has witnessed human suffering- but he only absorbs the after effects when they're in line with his beliefs. The coming together, rising above, the triumph! They got through in the end, they proved how GOOD they are! These poverty stricken people, slaves and serfs, can rise above the system and succeed if only they are good enough. I don't think he thinks too deeply on why the people that don't get dealt good cards still have to suffer. It probably never even actually crossed his mind beyond- "Well, that is the Great Plan." And I think to him that means, the good are rewarded and the angels are the goodest of all, so we get to live in Heaven and show the right path to the pitiful humans who have to choose between Good and Evil. Except sometimes he has to face the moral grays that suffering implies, like with Elbeth in the graveyard episode. When her only friend in the whole world dies, I think Aziraphale might've secretly had a moment of

"Ah, well, there is your punishment for doing wrong."

Because he just doesn't get it. He's carrying around enough money to buy a farm. He's not human- he doesn't feel angry emptiness eating away at his guts. Every occupation is just a way of whittling away your time to him. Money is an afterthought. Money is for the idolation of material things that he tries to ignore in himself. "Why don't you start a bookshop? Farm?" He had to think of things other people do for money, and he wasn't thinking of what she'd be able to do. "Sew?"

When Maggie can't pay the rent, of course it's no problem. Why would it be a problem- he likes Maggie, Maggie is good. She loves that shop and she's sharing the music he loves with the world (and him). Benevolent- if a human was doing it. Selfish, really, of an angel. He's had thousands of years to collect money and treasures (that he doesn't even need) to rise in status. But he doesn't see it that way. He gets to live unfretted and collect and cherish for thousands of years because he is fundamentally better than the humans. But he wouldn't say that. Maybe not even think it. He just knows it in the back of his mind without having to put words to the thought. And at the same time, he feels guilty. But not for anything I've mentioned. He knows he is indulgent and in love with all the sinful pleasures of humanity. He knows he's in love with Crowley. But it is only because of the temptation of a demon. It's not his fault. On the other hand, it's not Crowley's fault that it's in his nature to tempt- that he's Evil. That is the extent he understands moral grays. So it's no one's fault, and there's no need to dwell on it. And all of this twisted up nonsense is why Crowley is so good for him. He keeps on trying to show him the other side. First the pleasures, then the pains. Crowley loves humanity too, but he has a better understanding of its depth that came from his questioning nature and his fall. He wants Aziraphale to understand and accept the whole of humanity- the whole of him. Which is what makes their romantic relationship so heartbreaking. Because Aziraphale just doesn't get it.

alright, fuck it

WE DESERVE WAYWARD SISTERS

WE DESERVE TO SEE JODY, DONNA, ALEX, PATIENCE, CLAIRE, AND KAIA BEING HAPPY

REBLOG THIS UNTIL SOMEONE OF HIGH STANDING IN THE TV WORLD SEES IT

nov 5 is anniversary dinner at the winchester household but it's like..no one talks about it. everyone gets together but they pretend like it's because it's just. you know. a regular coincidence! we're just hanging out! we didn't even look at the calendar! they're all laughing too loud and forcing jokes and being overly casual about it.

dean gets real quiet when there's a break in conversation or when he's alone. cas gets this look in his eyes like he's not where he is. if they can't bear to be separated on the day, well. no one has to know. or even if they do, no one mentions it. so they eat one handed and they hold hands under the table until their knuckles are turning white and they're just standing pressed together when they're supposed to be doing the dishes and they DON'T talk because they still can't figure out how to sometimes and today is definitely the day that is sometimes. and if they get hugged extra tight when everyone leaves, well. they don't mention it. they're grateful but they don't talk about it.

the first year, it's almost a wake in the house. well, there was no house then, but there was the bunker, and it was home. but yes. it was almost a wake, disguised as a celebration. they'd all crowded around the map table, sitting in chairs and on the surface and trading stupid stories and playing boardgames and throwing scrabble tiles at each other because that's not a fucking word, dean and then even when they'd tired of the act, they just sort of sat together and drank and said nothing like it was agreed upon beforehand that they weren't gonna let dean and cas be alone and dean had been so grateful he didn't know what to do with it. it was like this grief wasn't supposed to be there, you know? but it was. it was. and there was no ignoring it. but you couldn't let it drown you so you did what you could.

the year after that is more of the same, though the house had emptied before midnight . and yes there was a house by then. and a porch swing and deck chairs and kitchen windows and her gardens and retirement, even though dean didn't think he'd ever get used to the taste of that word in his mouth. dean woke up that year with a pit in his stomach and he'd panicked because cas wasn't there, cas wasn't touching him, cas was gone , gone, gone, but then he'd blinked his eyes open to see that cas had just curled away from him in the night, was still here, sleeping, soft and open mouthed, and dean could touch him without straightening the bend in his elbow and he did and he tugged until they were pressed together again and he'd closed his eyes and sighed. cas went somewhere far away during the day, and dean thought he was going to suffocate in the house because he didn't know how to bring him back, to make him aware of the ground under his feet. but then his family was there, filing into the house somewhere around noon, in groups of twos and threes. they brought food and wine and movies and they pulled at the arms of the men who'd turned hollow-eyed until something like light slipped back into them.

it's the third year now, and the dishes are drying on the rack and the house is emptied of its guests and the quiet is just a little bit more bearable than it was the year before but somehow that feels like enough, because dean's not drowning and neither is cas, even if the water pulls at their legs, and that's a damn win in his book. dean checks the locks on the doors and the windows of his house and brings cas an afghan, drapes it over his shoulders, pulls him close until he's lying back against dean's chest on the couch. and they turn on the tv and it's the kind of shitty programming that comes on when it's after halloween and not yet christmas and it's pushing 2 am on the oven clock, but it's good white noise, and sometimes cas laughs and dean feels it against his chest, in his bones, and he thinks that's all it's about anyway. that laugh's kind of the point of everything. so he sighs and hooks his shoulder on Cas' chin and doesn't say how scared he is, sometimes, even now, or how he doesn't want to close his eyes tonight, because he's not sure what he'll wake up to tomorrow and doesn't say that there's something stinging the back of his eye even if there's no reason for it. instead he just slips his fingers through Cas' and buries his nose in cas ' hair and breathes. and well, isn't that a miracle.

here's a quick doodle that's very bad. Enjoy!

I was trying to draw this one and it didn't work that well...

Bippity boppity bace

You are now ace

Bippity boppity bay

You are now gay

I am not hydrated enough to cry right now...

erm yeah so im not normal about them SO WHAT!!!

i dont want a love like the movies. i want a love like they have in sitcoms. playfully roasting each other. every one teasing us when we're together. slowly becoming best friends. like Jake and Amy from Brooklyn Nine-Nine, or Jonah and Amy from Superstore, or Phil and Claire from Modern Family, or Ben and Leslie from Parks and Recreation. Movies say 'happily ever after' but sitcoms show you the after. I want a love like the sitcoms

those arms were real btw