↳ i’m a tired arachnid spinning loose in my threads, building lifetimes of gossamer beds x
But God left with no instructions and a world to run;
#raphael#:((((#we always talk about#poor cas#poor gabriel#dad forgot about them but#raphael???#he did everything right#he played by the book#he didn’t fight with his brothers#he didn’t rebel#he didn’t go in to hiding#he was the good son#you wanna talk about the angel who had the most right to be pissed at his father#raphael is that fucking angel#so of course when he finds out#daddy’s no longer there#daddy’s gone#daddy left you guys to fend for yourselves#damn right he’s gonna think he can do whatever he wants#because being daddy’s perfect little son wasn’t good enough#wasn’t good enough to keep dad around#he left anyway#and the other archangels??#gabriel left them all too#michael and lucifer can’t stop fighting#raphael feels like he’s gotta be the man of the house#he’s gotta put heaven back together#fuck raphael is the best four for you raphael you deserved better (via kikistiel)
You wanted free will. Now I’m making the choices.
You were a great and honorable soldier. We fought together. Yes, too many times to count.
It is not that Castiel was ever without fear. It is that he never gave into it.
He did not tumble in fully formed, knowing all the ways of the world. He learned them.
It is not that he has never been weak. It is that his defiance gave him a second strength. It’s not that he never grew angry. It’s that he always unclenched his fist. His expectations were not few, but he always expected the most from himself.
He’s not a saint. He is, and ever will be, an angel.
It is not that he had no doubts. It is that even with doubt, he mustered resolve, and committed fully. He would hang his faith on branches that others considered too fragile to bear fruit. In spite of everything, he is a creature of hope.
He couldn’t save them all. He couldn’t spare them all. But how he wished to!
Few would call him good with words, but never mind. His actions always spoke with the greatest clarity. They are what those who believe in him hear.
Some might call him too sombre. Moments where he lights up with joy are rare. Special. Some might call him too still. Still waters run deep. Things can be lost on him. But never the things that matter.
The strongest? The quickest? The smartest? The purest? Perhaps not. He worked with what he had. It took everything to get him here. What didn’t kill him made him stronger. So did what did kill him. The sum is greatness.
He has been hurt, but can see past his own pain to soothe the hurt of others. He is not untouchable. There is a youth to him, in firelight.
Or perhaps it is just mortality.
It is not that he never fell, but that he always stood up one more time.
We can never look upon him as he really is. But do we really need to see to comprehend? After all of his experiences, his wings and grace must resemble patchwork. Fine material, but torn here, and shredded there. His heart is ragged and worn – it took the greatest damage. It was the greatest target, after all. Too much heart was always Castiel’s problem. But ragged and worn, it still beats. Every last piece of him has been sewn together with golden thread, each resurrection in stitches more hurried than the last. Broken and fixed, repeatedly, always imperfectly.
The result is a peculiar thing, but still just Castiel.