NEXT MONTH!!!!!!!
“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.” - The Hobbit read by Charlie Bradbury
headcanon: dean uses one of the extra bedrooms in the batcave as a walk-in closet (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
#DON’T EVEN DENY IT HAVE YOU SEEN HIS WARDROBE THIS SEASON #BOY IS DAPPER AS FUCK AND HAS SO MANY CLOTHING OPTIONS #AND FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE HE HAS MORE CLOTHES THAN HE CAN STUFF IN A DUFFLE BAG
Sam and Dean live in a Hobbit hole
“pass it on” I say as I roll on the floor all the way down a cliff
#I WONDER WHAT SAM THINKS #LIKE HE WAS THERE WHEN DEAN ALWAYS HAD A DRINK IN HIS HAND #BUT NOW IT’S NOT ALCOHOL ANYMORE #IT’S COFFEE #AND IT’S NOT IN A DISPOSABLE CUP #IT’S IN A REAL CUP #MAYBE THAT’S WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO HAVE A HOME #TO BELONG SOMEPLACE #-I HAVE TO ADMIT I DON’T REMEMBER IF THEY’RE IN THE BATCAVE IN THE SECOND GIF BUT STILL SEE HOW FAR THEY’VE COME
jesus christ those tags
I hadn’t even realised. that’s why we keep seeing Dean drinking coffee. they’re showing us he’s getting over his drinking problem.
oh my god he’s getting better. he’s healing.
he has a home and he’s healing.
The song that is playing: (x)
XD don’t give me feels like that creying oceans
It should be awkward, but it’s not, even though Dean’s only wearing a robe and slippers and next-to-nothing else, even though his hair’s still damp and he’s all-too conscious of the fact that he’s dripping all over Cas’s trenchcoat.
But it’s not awkward, not even his arm around Cas’s waist, not even his hand resting on Cas’s lower back and Dean wonders why isn’t strange at all to be holding Cas’s hand, to have their fingers intertwined.
He wonders why he isn’t marveling at the way Cas doesn’t need to be told what to do, the way Cas knows to lean in close, knows to press his chest against Dean’s, knows to sway slightly, back and forth, and they shuffle across the room.
It ought to be more remarkable, how Cas rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, a quiet display of trust and affection that makes Dean’s eyes sting, how easy it is to tuck his chin into the space just underneath Cas’s collar; it ought to be astonishing, when the music slowly fades to silence, how natural it is to lift his head and lean in for a kiss.
And when they pull away, it ought to be curious, how Cas’s silk tie is damp from pressing against Dean’s robe, and maybe it’s time for Dean to drop Cas’s hand: but it isn’t, and he doesn’t.