#because i can't get them out of my head

[jenanigans1207]

Hi, please accept me being weak and sharing even more of this fic that I'm working on because I'm too impatient to hold onto this until the fic is done.

For context, the whole point of the fic is that Dean gets hit with a curse that forces him to tell the truth if asked a question.

(enjoy the angst of me projecting onto Dean Winchester!)

----

“You don’t get it.” Dean grinds out, all frustration and sharp edges, words cutting his own throat as much as they’re cutting Cas.

“Dean—”

“Ask me.” Dean says, throwing his arms out to the side. “I can’t fucking lie so ask me.”

Cas stares at him for a long moment and it’s not hard for Dean to read the expressions on his face. Up until this point, Cas had been very carefully and delicately choosing his words every time he spoke to Dean, careful to not accidentally phrase something in a way that would come across as a question. He has been diligent in his attempt to respect Dean’s privacy and Dean’s wishes, steadfast in his belief that Dean should not be forced to tell them things, but should only volunteer things willingly. Even though Sam had been practically chomping at the bit to finally get Dean to talk about his feelings.

But Dean was giving Cas permission to ask, to force the curse to bring the words to the surface. This was about as willing as Dean got when it came to feelings and Dean could see the exact moment that Cas accepted the permission he was being granted. 

“Why do you always push me away?” Cas asks after a moment, his voice quiet, like he’s afraid of receiving the answer as much as he’s afraid of what delivering the answer will do to Dean.

But Dean doesn’t need the curse to bring up the answer. At this point, everything is such a fucking disaster that Dean’s willing to answer that honestly all on his own.

“It’s easier.” He says, and he notices the way Cas steels himself for whatever else Dean is about to say, as if he’s prepared for repeated blows to the heart. “If you leave because I push you away— because I’m a short-tempered asshole who crosses the line and says shit he doesn’t mean, I can live with that. Because that— that’s my fault, Cas. And at that point, just add it to the list, you know? Everything is my fault— Sam being back in the life, everything that’s happened to him, everything that’s happened to you, the fucking end of the world was my fault! So yeah, if you leave because I pushed and pushed and pushed until you couldn’t bear it anymore, I’ll just add it to the list of reasons I hate myself and cope with it the same way I cope with all the other reasons— too much alcohol and even more denial.”

Cas’s lips part, clearly surprised by the answer he’s getting. “That’s—”

But Dean isn’t done. “I’ve spent my entire life hating everything about myself, Cas. And yeah, I’m not sure I ever hate myself more than I do when I hurt you that— that is a new low, even for me, but it’s still in the realm of things I understand. But if— Cas, If you—” Dean’s throat is so fucking tight that it hurts and the words almost can’t get out. He clenches his jaw, swallows, and decides to put himself out of his fucking misery. “If I asked you to stay… If I told you how badly I always want you there, how nothing is ever right when you’re gone, how I never want you to leave and you— and you left anyway? If I told you the truth and you still chose to leave despite that? Cas, that would kill me. It really would.” Dean can’t look Cas in the eye now that the words are out in the open. “So instead, I push. If you’re going to leave no matter what, at least I can blame myself for it. It at least makes it a little easier to breathe in those lonely moments. Gives me something to do, too, you know? Instead of missing you every second of the day, I spend at least a few of them kicking my own ass for what I’ve done and continue doing to you.”

There’s a long, tense silence that follows the words and Dean honestly doesn’t know how he expects Cas to react.

“And you—” Cas’s voice is as strained as Dean’s had been and Dean glances up at him briefly, unsurprised to find the pain reflected in his face. It’s not like Dean’s unaccustomed to hurting Cas, he shouldn’t be surprised that even his honesty manages to do it. “You think that I would leave either way? You think that I— I want to go? That I would choose to go even if you didn’t push me away?”

It’s several questions all jumbled together, but it doesn’t really matter because they all have the same answer anyway. “Yes.”

Dean had hurt Cas a lot of times in the past, he knew that. He wouldn’t say he’d come to terms with it, wouldn’t say that each and every time he had said something intentionally harsh, cruel, or uncalled for wasn’t tied for number one on his list of reasons he hated himself more than any other creature on earth. But still, he knew that he had done it and he often replayed it in his head, hurting himself with the memory of hurting Cas. But despite that, nothing prepares him for the way Cas’s face crumples at his answer, for the way he looks more dejected, more hopeless Dean has ever seen him. Suddenly every other time Dean has hurt Cas barely even makes the list of reasons he hates himself because this— this just took every spot in the top one hundred.

Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever get the image of Cas’s broken, faithless expression out of his mind.

Dean almost expects Cas to try and school his expression into something a little more neutral, something to disguise the hurt in his eyes. He usually does, just to spare Dean the pain— or maybe Cas thinks it’s the satisfaction— of knowing that he’d landed another winning blow. But Cas doesn’t do anything to cover up the agony in his expression, doesn’t even attempt to pretend that he’s not breaking to pieces right before Dean’s very eyes.

Dean fucking Winchester, the man cursed to save the world that does not love him and to break the only actually precious thing he’s ever been given.

“Why?” Cas finally chokes out. “Why would you think that?”

Dean answers his question with a question, “Why would you stay?” Cas stares at him with eyes that are impossibly blue and unfathomably sad. For someone who knows only disappointment, Dean’s surprised to find that it hurts so much to find it reflected in Cas’s eyes. “I’m not— I’m not a fucking joy to be around, Cas. I’m not shining sunshine out of my ass, I’m not Mary freaking Poppins. I’m an asshole— clearly— and I… Jesus Christ, I’m a fucking disaster, a basket case. There’s more wrong with me than there is right. Me constantly pushing you away is an example of that!”

“Dean, if you’d let me, I would—”

“Let you?” Dean repeats, somehow incredulous despite the absolute trainwreck of a situation. “Let you? Cas, I may push you away, but I don’t physically shove you out the door. And I’ve never once locked it behind you, never once stopped you from coming back. You get that, right? I may push and push and push but you? Cas you leave.”

Somehow this is getting worse by the second and if Dean weren’t so unbearably miserable, he’d be impressed that he’s managing to fuck everything up further with every word that comes out of his mouth. Looking at Cas now, he’s honestly not sure which one of them hates the situation they’re in more, which one of them feels worse. Cas looks like he’s about to collapse in on himself, like the only thing he’d ever been fighting for just gave up and surrendered the battle. He looked like his entire purpose had just been ripped away from him. 

“I don’t ever want to leave, Dean.” Cas says brokenly. 

“Then why do you?” Dean asks, just as broken, just as quiet, just as desolate. And when Cas doesn’t immediately answer, biting back a reply that he clearly knows, Dean laughs, bitter and humorless. “Right, ‘course. Forgot, I’m the only one who has to be honest, here. Fucking fantastic, Cas, that’s just great.”

Cas takes a tentative step forward. “Dean—”

Dean has always hated how much he loves the way Cas says his name. Cas, a former Angel of the Lord said Dean’s name reverently, like a prayer, like it carried some sort of holy meaning or importance. Cas said his name like it was a blessing to be able to speak it at all, like it was the only name he ever wanted to say again. 

And Dean can’t take that right now, can’t let Cas say his name like that while refusing to meet him in the middle on this. “No, just—” He’s breaking, he’s breaking, he’s been broken for so many goddamn years at this point and yet somehow he’s still breaking. “You— you were supposed to fight, you asshole. You were supposed to come back and see that the door was still open. You were supposed to— to try. And you never did— do. You never do. So I keep pushing and you keep leaving and it’s easier for me to blame myself than it is for me to blame you but god, Cas, it doesn’t matter whose fucking fault it is because it hurts every time you go.”

Dean doesn’t know if angels cry. But if they do, he’s certain that Cas would. If there were only ever one angel in all of history that cried, Dean would know with absolute certainty that it was Cas. And Cas isn’t even an angel anymore, technically. He’s just a stupid human with stupid human emotions and the even stupider human inability to deal with them. But he looks like he might cry, like he might prove to Dean to that all of his celestial holiness was just a rouse and that he’s always been harboring this deep seated sadness underneath. 

“I—” Cas starts to say, but whatever response he had is lost to the sound of Sam opening the door finally.

“Hey,” Sam says hurriedly, and there’s a smear of blood on his cheek. He stumbles into the room, the hand on the doorknob stopping him from toppling over completely. Once he makes it in the room he pauses, seeming to notice the tension that’s suffocating them. His eyebrows rise as he glances between the two of them. “You guys good?”

“No,” Dean answers immediately, the curse beating Cas to the punch. “We’re not.”

That seems to catch Sam off guard and his hand slips off the doorknob as he regards Dean. He probably wants to ask some question that would make Dean rehash this entire thing, probably wants to do something stupid and sentimental like sweep him up into a bear hug and tell Dean that everything will work out. But he seems to sense the severity of the situation, the levity of the expressions on both of their faces. He shuts his cakehole.

“No,” Cas agrees after a moment, and his voice is thick with emotions and whatever words he was forced to swallow back down when Sam barged in. “But we will be. Right, Dean?”

Even the curse doesn’t have an answer to that one, leaving his throat completely dry as he tries to swallow, letting him give whatever kind of response he wants. “Yeah.” He chokes out after a moment, not meeting the gaze of either of them. “We always are.”

[egophiliac]

this is basically what happened, right?

(these guys are very lucky that everyone at NRC 1) has the combined intelligence of a sack of bricks, and 2) is easily distracted by shiny things.)

[bakudekublogblog]

people who are resistant to a dvk3 happening are really underestimating just how gay dvk2 was. like that's the holy bible of bakudekuism. like i can't imagine being a bakudeku shipper and being like "no i dont want another version of that" especially when izuku needs that kind of catharsis and it will inevitably bring bkdk closer than ever. like literally it would be so peak

[sconfittoleone]

save me ashbert. ashbert. ashbert save me.

[saelik]

Grown up shuake deep cleaning their home and Akechi mocking that sentimental fool he calls husband every time they empty a drawer and find everything Ren has been keeping through the years: old photos, tickets of movies they've seen together, Akechi's glove ("really, Ren? It's been two decades, it's high time you threw that away"), useless and broken trinkets he's gifted Ren through the years... only for Ren to find a box in a closet, hidden under coats they no longer use, full of pressed flowers from the bouquets he gives Akechi every anyversary, a script of their wedding vows, an extremely corny postcard he sent Akechi back when they were in college and he had to spend a whole month in his hometown becuase his grandma got sick, the first gift he ever made him, and the second, and a silly bookmark he made for Akechi last week and tons of other mementos.

Ren is so touched by the discovery that he can't even tease his husband for it. At first at least, once he recovers he'll never let Akechi hear the end of it.

[mel-loly]

I liked this flower..   It shines so much...

I wish my life could shine like that   from time to time...

Staying in this dark is so sad..   Will I ever be able to know happiness...?

Will I ever be able to see the light...?   Or will someone bring me this light...?

Well.. I don't know...   But if I were to make a wish..

I would ask for someone who could show me the way to the..

Light

[sulky-cabbage]

Am I imagining things orrrrr......

AND THIS WHOLE FUCKING SEQUENCE

Gege what does all of this mean....

[frogwithastrawberry]

What if after crawling out of the harbor Kaz made sure he knew how to swim, and how to swim with extra weight, because he didn't ever want to rely on someone or something else if he ended up in the water again.

It's one of the things that started the rumors that Dirtyhands wasn't human. Fisherman would see him walk out to the docks in the dead of winter, fully clothed in his coat and all, and then dive into the water, no matter how rough it was. They all assumed that he was dead, because no one ever saw him get out of the water, yet he was always back the next day.

They assumed that he would stop when he broke his leg and started using a cane. But he didn't. They watched the scrawny kid, cloaked in mercher black clothes and a heavy wool coat, limp down the dock, take a deep breath, and jump in the water again.

At some point someone suggested he might be a tidemaker, but no one ever saw him control any water. He'd just dive in. And it's widely known that he wouldn't have made it this far in life if he was using tidemaker powers visibly. So they all just assumed that Kaz Brekker was a non-human entity incapable of dying.

[skrunksthatwunk]

actually i'm still thinking about the moral orel finale.

he has a cross on his wall. do you know how much i think about that bc it's a lot.

a lot of stories ((auto)biographical or fictional) centering escape from abusive/fundamentalist christianity result in the lead characters leaving behind christianity entirely. and that makes complete sense! people often grow disillusioned with the associated systems and beliefs, and when it was something used to hurt them or something so inseparable from their abuse that they can't engage with it without hurting, it makes total sense that they would disengage entirely. and sometimes they just figure out that they don't really believe in god/a christian god/etc. a healthy deconstruction process can sometimes look like becoming an atheist or converting to another religion. it's all case by case. (note: i'm sure this happens with other religions as well, i'm just most familiar with christian versions of this phenomenon).

but in orel's case, his faith was one of the few things that actually brought him comfort and joy. he loved god, y'know? genuinely. and he felt loved by god and supported by him when he had no one else. and the abuses he faced were in how the people in his life twisted religion to control others, to run away from themselves, to shield them from others, etc. and often, orel's conflicts with how they acted out christianity come as a direct result of his purer understanding of god/jesus/whatever ("aren't we supposed to be like this/do that?" met with an adult's excuse for their own behavior or the fastest way they could think of to get orel to leave them alone (i.e. orel saying i thought we weren't supposed to lie? and clay saying uhhh it doesn't count if you're lying to yourself)). the little guy played catch with god instead of his dad, like.. his faith was real, and his love was real. and i think it's a good choice to have orel maintain something that was so important to him and such a grounding, comforting force in the midst of. All That Stuff Moralton Was Up To/Put Him Through. being all about jesus was not the problem, in orel's case.

and i know i'm mostly assuming that orel ended up in a healthier, less rigid version of christianity, but i feel like that's something that was hinted at a lot through the series, that that's the direction he'd go. when he meditates during the prayer bee and accepts stephanie's different way to communicate, incorporating elements of buddhism into his faith; when he has his I AM A CHURCH breakdown (removing himself from the institution and realizing he can be like,, the center of his own faith? taking a more individualistic approach? but Truly Going Through It at the same time), his acceptance (...sometimes) of those who are different from him and condemned by the adults of moralton (stephanie (lesbian icon stephanie my beloved), christina (who's like. just a slightly different form of fundie protestant from him), dr chosenberg (the jewish doctor from otherton in holy visage)). his track record on this isn't perfect, but it gets better as orel starts maturing and picking up on what an absolute shitfest moralton is. it's all ways of questioning the things he's been taught, and it makes sense that it would lead to a bigger questioning as he puts those pieces together more. anyway i think part of his growth is weeding out all the lost commandments of his upbringing and focusing on what faith means to him, and what he thinks it should mean. how he wants to see the world and how he wants to treat people and what he thinks is okay and right, and looking to religion for guidance in that, not as like. a way to justify hurting those he's afraid or resentful of, as his role models did.

he's coming to his own conclusions rather than obediently, unquestioningly taking in what others say. but he's still listening to pick out the parts that make sense to him. (edit/note: and it's his compassion and his faith that are the primary motivations for this questioning and revisal process, both of individual cases and, eventually, the final boss that is christianity.) it makes perfect sense as the conclusion to his character arc and it fits the overall approach of the show far better. it's good is what i'm saying.

and i think it's important to show that kind of ending, because that's a pretty common and equally valid result of deconstruction. and i think it cements the show's treatment of christianity as something that's often (and maybe even easily) exploited, but not something inherently bad. something that can be very positive, even. guys he even has a dog he's not afraid of loving anymore. he's not afraid of loving anyone more than jesus and i don't think it's because he loves this dog less than bartholomew (though he was probably far more desperate for healthy affection and companionship when he was younger). i think it's because he figures god would want him to love that dog. he's choosing to believe that god would want him to love and to be happy and to be kind. he's not afraid of loving in the wrong way do you know how cool that is he's taking back control he's taking back something he loves from his abusers im so normal

[fisheito]

rereading the nuca pink doujin and seeing yakumo tear himself apart re: his snake form vs his human form all this agony and self-doubt and silent suffering and fear of rejection like "if i looked less human would u hate me" , "if u saw me in my true form wouldn't that be horrible. terrifying. disgusting" , "if i admitted i want to swallow you whole would you think worse of me"

and i imagine him asking something like this to the crowd of clan members , who are , undeniably,, a group of Kinky Fuckers

they all smile with the serenity and carefully masked excitement of a horny olivine. masterful beautiful reassuring expressions (errr..... masked to different degrees depending on the clan member)

[somegrumpynerd]

Good heavens, look at the time! (Points to a clock where every hour is replaced with "gooptales")

@topazshadowwolf's boys will be the death of me please read it it's so good

[shikai-the-storyteller]

[ruvviks]

Mikhail and Vitali were inseparable; when they weren’t studying or getting into fights, they would hang out at Mikhail’s place to smoke and get drunk on cheap rum and vodka, to then pass out in each other’s arms and sleep most of the next day away. They promised each other— no matter what would happen— they would never leave each other’s side. Yet after starting university and college respectively, they did not see each other for a little over six years, leaving them both heartbroken and wondering what went wrong.

by lucas expedidor // catch me if you can; eden // clementine von radics, from 'courtney love prays to oregon' // sam sax, cruising: a broken tiara // 'ceramic home' by heavensghost; quote from john murillo // 'something's changed' by laiikastears // i don't want to watch the world end with someone else; clinton kane // fortesa latifi, from 'the truth about grief' // audre lorde, the evening news // frank o'hara, biotherm (for bill berkson) // heading home; ruben // 'preface to a dream' by alessandra casini // tokyo; caroline kole // langston hughes, poem // haruki murakami, norwegian wood // julie buntin, marlena // by lute // by aleksandr popov // anyway; noah kahan // christa wolf, cassandra: a novel and four essays

[buglaur]

calloway family reunion ✧

[aceghosts]

Rooney Shepard (They/Them): RELIC AU

There are stranger things I've learned on the outside Separated by an open door I find it hard to reach the end of my timeline Salivating 'cause I wanted more Is this the end or is this the beginning? -Too Close/Too Late by Spiritbox

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[cuubism]

hello friends. despite my 9 million existing dreamling wips i'm feeling the need to branch out a bit for the sake of my mental variety. what pairing other than dreamling should i write a little something for? could be romantic or platonic

other way of phrasing i guess: any pairings you really want to see more fics for in the fandom?