“You have a visitor, Clarence.”

Meg’s smile is lipsticky. All the other nurses are bleached and clean and transparent, but Meg’s demonic rebellion has been reduced to MAC Russian Red. Sometimes it’s Cockney, or Ladybug. Sometimes she leaves big sticky prints on his cheek, like bloody butterflies. He leaves them there. Another nurse comes along and wipes them off hours later, looking a little perturbed. He vaguely wonders why no one gets her to stop.

It’s Hang Up today. Purple and glossy. She smacks her lips as she looks up at Dean, and Dean just rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Nurse,” he drawls, like the whole fancy-dress facade pains him. She sashays out, and Dean shoots him a meaningful look. “She picked up everything she knows about nursing from porn, huh?”

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Okay, Sera. Here’s the problem I have with you - you’ve just leapt from being a closed-minded writer to a closed-minded human being. Way to completely ignore and undermine the fluidity of sexuality. Way to ignore Dean’s casual flirtation with men. Way to ignore the significance of the masculine relationships in his life and the continual failure of his feminine relationships. Way to ignore Dean’s entire CHARACTER as a kid constantly striving to replace his negligent father with strong, fulfilling male figures. More importantly, way to eliminate bisexuality and pansexuality from the fucking spectrum! 

You don’t understand the show you’re running. You don’t understand the characters you’re writing for. And, tossing my shipper’s agenda and slash goggles aside, if you genuinely believe that Dean’s past sexual relationships with women serve to eliminate the possibility of a future romantic relationship with a man, then you don’t understand life. Our understanding of sexuality has evolved in the last couple of decades to accept that ‘liking women’ and ‘liking men’ are not mutually exclusive statements. So thanks, Sera, thanks a lot for reducing something as wonderfully rich and complex as sexuality to naive binaries - it’s comforting to know this show is being run from such an informed and progressive viewpoint.

• Castiel can use contractions. And he does, frequently.
• Castiel can say ‘sex’ without blushing. The act itself may make him uncomfortable in its unfamiliarity, but he’s never shied away from talking about it objectively.
• Castiel is millions upon millions of years old. Infantilizing him is odd. And I’m not referring to the cute chibi drawings, because I could live off of cute chibi drawings alone. Nor am I talking about feeling maternal or protective over him, because we all make ‘LOOK AT THE CUTIEPIE I WANT HIM IN MY BOSOM’ statements in moments of weakness - I blame Misha’s big manga eyes, they’re fucking ridiculous. But in canon roleplay or fanfiction Castiel is not gonna be cute and cuddly and harmless. Castiel isn’t innocent. He’s a hardened, jaded warrior. He has seen more death and destruction than the boys can dream of. He’s logical and utilitarian. He makes tough decisions and he’s done hideous things. Castiel can torture, as well as Dean, better than Dean. There’s nothing pure about him. He may be moral and rational and doubtful, but he remains the walking epitome of the dark side of Heaven. 
• He’s done his research and he’s been here since 2009 - he’s not completely ignorant to all of Earth’s customs.
• Castiel is unafraid to argue with Dean, or even beat the living shit out of him. Castiel cares for Dean, deeply, perhaps more than anyone else ever has, but part and parcel of that is not treating him like he’s breakable. Castiel doesn’t handle Dean with kid gloves, he doesn’t shy from the tough love and he doesn’t patronise him, and in that way their relationship is largely equal. Furthermore, Castiel is aware that sometimes violence is the only language the boys understand.
• Castiel is not a delicate, fragile flower. He’s an angel of the Lord, and he can fight like a motherfucker. He isn’t a stranger to violence, and he views killing as a means to an end. He can be as barbaric and merciless as any demon.
• There’s a tendency within fandom to paint Castiel as open, emotionally communicative and expressive, and Dean as the repressed, grunting Neanderthal of the piece. To me it seems Castiel can be just as guarded and defensive as any Winchester, and Dean is fully capable of moments of lucid emotional revelation. Dean can cry, and Castiel can hide his feelings. He may have been initially ignorant to the mechanics of lying, but I think he’s always been well accustomed to strategic omission.

GIVE, TAKE AND PONCHOS: Castiel has a new trick, one Dean’s never seen, and when he starts using it on the Doctor Dean’s jealousy drives Sam around the bend.

PG-13

Castiel and the Doctor have been gone for three hours by the time they both suddenly appear in the middle of Bobby’s living room, pink-faced and crazy-haired and sending a stack of papers sky high. The sheets flutter through the air like confetti and the Doctor’s still giggling by the time they touch the floor. 

“Look what the Cas dragged in!” Amy catcalls from her place sprawled on the sofa, long limbs everywhere, fanning herself with a tomb on ancient Aztec mythology. It’s a hot summer’s day in South Dakota and she’s wearing as few clothes as are logically possible around a handsy Dean and a husband with a sword. “How were Adam and Eve?” 

The Doctor sashays over to her, hands clasped and eyes bright, “I think you mean Adam and Steve.”

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