#destiel out here easing mental illness

[nacvamp]

Unfortunately, Misha Collins is incredibly intelligent, funny, deep, charming, humble, egregious, fearless, and kind, and he restores my faith in humankind. Unfortunately, participating in spn fandom and letting myself be absolutely cringe-silly over pairings and fanworks has diminished my long-fought mental illness, given me access to joy and ease again, and I have hope for the future. Unfortunately, I am happy!!

[sharkfish]

2019 MONTHLY WRITING TRACKER

WORDCOUNT: 109,889 FICS POSTED: 21 (*plus tons of ficlets) 

i’m honestly super pleased with what i wrote this year. i wrote a ton of ace fics during pride, i explored some fun tropes, i finished some years-old wips, and i had a great time. thank you for coming along on this journey with me! i appreciate every single person who read one of my stories this year. 

i wish i could thank all the friends who supported me and my writing this year, but there are honestly too many and i would hate to leave anyone out due to faulty memory. i think y’all know who you are. i adore you. 

TOP 5 FICS PUBLISHED IN 2019

(and other stuff under the cut)

worth waiting - 1.5k 

“I’m going into heat,” Dean says in a rush. “And I wanted to ask — but Jesus, you’d hate who I am when…” He looks away, cheeks flushing, and lets out a hollow laugh. “I’m not even sure you like regular me.”

i’m always thinking about what non-sexual needs alphas & omegas might have during their mating cycles. a lot of mate-y stuff - nests, scent marking, nurturing, just touching. this one and my #2 fic are both about that. :) 

honeysuckle - 4k

“Your omega’s here, ok? Everything’s ok.”

Cas closes his eyes and leans a little into Dean’s solid warmth. His omega is here. He can smell them all over each other already.

“You made me such a nice nest, too.” Dean’s voice is low, honeyed and soft. He smells sweeter, it hangs thick and heavy in the air. “Show me.”

cas is an ace alpha who asks demi omega dean to join him for his rut for all those non-sexual needs. i like this one a lot! 

all the other things - 8.5k

Cas isn’t prepared for this. There was training when he started with Specialty Services Company, but not the kind of training that would make him ready for easing Dean out from under the hands that have hurt him. There’s something hidden but singing under there, if Cas is good enough.

i don’t see a lot of bdsm aus (where everyone is born as either a dom or a sub, and they generally don’t do well if they go long periods of time without dominating or submitting in some way) in this fandom, but i was excited to write one myself! i also adore sex worker aus so this scratched more than one itch. :) also, it’s the softest. 

the only permanent thing - 8.5k

When Dean looks down, he’s shocked he hadn’t noticed it before. The bunting that has lived under the soft dip of his elbow his entire life, frozen in flight, is perched on a branch covered in leaves.

The bird isn’t moving now, but sometime last night he did, and sometime last night he was given a place to rest.

apparently i worked on a lot of fun tropes this year! this is a soulmate mark one, where the marks are like tattoos that come alive when your soulmate is near. featuring mental illness, neurological illness, and demi cas.

ace high - 4k

Cas takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ve never done anything like that before. I swear I’m not…”

“Trying to disrespect my chastity?”

i’ve been wanting to write more beta characters and here we are! they’re coworkers and there’s only one bed. you can probably guess how that goes. i apologize for the misleading title - there are neither aces or drugs in this one. 

BOTTOM 3 FICS PUBLISHED IN 2019

in the brutal rain - 1.5k (dcj)

Cas has always been “not quite right,” as his and Jimmy’s mother put it, so it was a shock to find out that Dean was interested in him in the first place. Jimmy’s usually the one that people like, while Cas stands off to the side, looking at flowers.

Was that hesitation before inviting Cas along? Was that a grimace when Cas embarrassed them in front of their friends? Are there whispers when he leaves the room?

cas is an anxious wreck (and grey-ace), jimmy’s nb, they’re all grossly in love. this fic is basically about cas haven’t an anxiety attack and his partners being there to support him. :) 

tough love - 2k (dcs)

Cas goes willingly into the chair in the corner, inhaling deep to scent Dean’s arousal spiking as Stiles stalks to him. “Don’t touch my mate,” Cas snarls, and he sees the delight twitching at the corner of Dean’s mouth to hear it, before Stiles grabs him roughly by the hair and kicks his legs out from under him.

when dean’s in heat, they call up their friend stiles and play a little game. i didn’t really expect anyone to read this one since it’s connoncon and Impure Destiel. but i had fun writing it! 

most perfect possession - 4k

“Hey,” Dean says, grinning. “I kinda like you.”

“And you’re willing to announce it to all of our friends and loved ones.”

“Let’s do this.”

beginning of the riptides sequel! i feel like i didn’t “market” this right so probably none of the riptides readers saw it (and it’s still marked as a wip). tell your friends! 

[goodfemalecharacters]

14x06 Coda: Definition Love

destiel, Jack asking more about love, 2k

When Jack opens his eyes, the first words out of his mouth are the very last words that Dean would have expected.

“What is love, then?”

Dean lets out a shaky breath.  Despite himself, he’s grown to care about Jack.  He doesn’t know what he would have done if he’d had to tell Sam—had to tell Cas—that he was gone.

The last hour or so has passed in a blur.  After Jack’s collapse, Dean hauled him into his room and tucked him beneath the covers.  He’s been pacing back and forth, dialing and redialing ever since.

He lowers the cellphone at the sound of Jack’s voice and sits gingerly at the end of the kid’s bed.  The tinny recording of Cas’s voicemail keeps playing even as he muffles it into the blankets.  

There’s a sour scent just beginning to tinge the air.  How he hadn’t noticed before is beyond him.  Dean thinks of the trials—of bloody tissues in the trash can—and mentally kicks himself.

“You scared the hell out of me, kid.”

Jack’s eyes lower. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the high points of his cheeks glow red.  He bunches the blankets in his fist and doesn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“Don’t be sorry.”

Suddenly, all he can think about is Sam, swallowed in the sheets of a too-big motel bed, lower lip quivering as he fought off another round of shaking shoulders,

“I got some medicine in you while you were out, but I don’t know how much it will help.”

They’d run out of medicine that week, Dean remembers.  He shakes off the memory of his six-year-old brother.  Sam’s fever had come down with some ibuprofen in him.  He knows better than to hope it’ll be the same for a Nephilim.

Jack lets out a wracking cough.  Dean springs from his seat and hands him a tissue so he doesn’t smear blood in his blankets.

“For the record,” Dean says, taking the now-bloody tissue and dumping it in the trash can next to Jack’s bed, “this is not what a cold looks like.”

Jack says nothing.

Dean sighs.  He might not be able to snap his fingers and make the kid stop coughing up blood, but he can at least answer the question.

“Love is needing someone,” he says quietly. “Not because of what they can do for you, but because of what they are for you.”

Jack nods—keeps nodding, because his head is heavy and he can’t quite stop.

“Sit up a minute,” Dean tells him.

He pulls Jack forward a little, fluffs his pillow.  Jack sinks back into it the moment Dean lets go, letting out a sigh.  Dean heads toward the door, convinced that Jack isn’t going to die, at least not right this moment.

“Dean?” Jack says after a moment, voice small, “I love you.”

Dean pauses, hand on the light switch. “Get some sleep.  Cas will be home soon.”

Jack manages to lever himself up on to his elbows when he hears the door open.  He tries not to frown when Charlie walks through the door instead of Cas or Sam.

“I brought provisions,” she says. “Sam will come see you soon.  He’s got two hunters up in Albuquerque that have never seen a ghoul before.”

Jack tries to smile.  It must look a little lopsided, because Charlie’s fades.

“Laptop, DVDs, the whole shebang.”

She sets her offering down on the end of Jack’s bed.

His face lights up. “Star Wars?”

Charlie grins. “Best movies of all time.  I love Leia.”

He’s been turning over what Dean said in his mind for the last few hours as he stared at the ceiling—his chest hurts too much to do anything else—and it doesn’t quite make sense yet.

“Charlie, what’s love?”

A flash of emotions play out across her face, one after the other.  It’s too fast for Jack to follow.  She finally settles on a neutral expression.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that you’re not talking about Leia.”

Jack nods.  He knows why someone would love her—she’s the coolest.

“Love is pretending you love cupcakes, even if you don’t, just because she makes them for you.”

Her eyes glitter a little with tears.  Jack focuses on the shiny DVD cover while she recovers.

“Anyway.  Rest.  The others will swing around soon.”

Jack watches her retreating back until the door clicks shut and then slides the DVD out.

Toward the end of The Empire Strikes Back, Jack pauses on “I know” and fishes his phone out of the tangle of his sheets.

Mary?

He types and retypes the text a few times before he finally sends it.

what’s love?

If anyone would know, it would be Mary.  When they were captured by Michael, she’d tell him stories at night as she patched him up after Michael’s experiments.  About Sam and Dean when they were kids, about her husband, her parents.  

Love had been in every one.

She hesitates on her answer.  Jack can see the bubbles appear and then disappear.  He holds his phone tighter.

Love is being there for someone.

Then, another text.

I heard from Sam.  I’m on my way.

Love is being there.  Jack puts the phone away, and despite the pain in his chest, he doesn’t think he’s felt this at ease since Lucifer stole his Grace.

By the time Sam bursts into his room, Jack is nearly done with Return of the Jedi.  Sam has the beginning of a five o’clock shadow edging on to his face.  Jack wonders distractedly if that’s what happens when he gets worried—he just grows a beard.

“Jack.”

Jack tries to suppress a cough.  His whole body shakes with it.  Sam sits down on the edge of his bed, reaches out to take his temperature with the back of his hand.  It’s cool.  Jack leans into it despite himself.

He’s expecting Sam to yell at him for putting himself—for putting Dean—in danger.  The buddy system doesn’t do much good when one of the buddies is spitting up blood in between interviewing witnesses.  Sam doesn’t.

“I thought—” Sam’s voice stops.

He looks so much older than the last time Jack saw him.  For the first time, he notices the glint of silver just beginning to poke through the roots of Sam’s hair.  Sam scrubs a hand over his face.  It doesn’t do much to make him look less exhausted.

“Love,” Jack says abruptly, wanting to distract him. “Dean tried to explain it to me.”

A smile. “Dean?  As in, my brother?”

Jack just stares at him. “He’s the only Dean I know.”

Sam snorts. “Yeah, I know.  He’s just not really—love and love, you know?  Not really his bag.”

Jack doesn’t know what he could possibly mean by that.  He’s not sure if it’s the pounding headache that’s beginning to build behind his eyes or not.  He must look confused, because Sam keeps going.

“Love, huh?” Sam smooths his hands over his thighs, brushes some dirt off the knees of his jeans. “Forgiveness.  That’s love.”

Jack can’t help the yawn.  He tries his best to fight it back, but Sam still notices.  His face softens.

“You need rest.  Whatever this is—well.  You’ll need all the strength you can get.”

When Jack opens his eyes again, it’s to find Castiel sitting by his bedside.  He blinks blearily for a moment.  It’s hard to keep his eyes open. “Hello, Jack,” Cas says, leaning forward. He brushes some of Jack’s hair out of his face.  Jack’s throat closes over, and it’s not his illness.  He’s seen that movement in movies and TV shows.

As far as Jack is concerned, he doesn’t have a father.  But he imagines this is what it’s like. “I brought you soup.” Jack tries to sit up, but he doesn’t have the energy.  Cas braces a hand behind his head and helps him lean against the headboard.  Jack has never felt so weak in his life. “Thanks,” Jack manages to croak. He takes a swallow as Cas raises a spoon to his mouth.  Jack can’t quite tell what the flavor is, but the warmth feels good on his throat.  His whole body aches, and even the slight movement hurts.  He closes his eyes. “I tried to heal you while you were asleep.” Neither of them need to finish the sentence.  Something cold settles in Jack’s chest. He doesn’t think he’s afraid to die—facing down Lucifer in that church, all he’d wanted was for Sam to escape.  But the thought of Cas here in this room, alone, Cas carrying his body, wrapped in a sheet—it nearly breaks him. “Cas—“ he starts, but he can’t quite finish the thought. Cas spoons another mouthful into Jack’s mouth.  When a bit escapes on to his chin, Cas wipes it away. “Dean said I should give you ‘the talk,’ but only once you’re better.” He puts actual air quotes around the words.  Jack tried to smile, but it takes pretty much all of his energy to stay upright. “Tell me about love, then.”

Cas smiles.  There’s a flicker of the Castiel that Jack knows beneath the worried hunch of his shoulders.

“Love is coming home,” Cas tells him. “Come on.  Eat the rest of your soup.”

Love, Jack decides, is a lot simpler than the movies say.

“Hey.”

Cas looks up from the pile of books in front of him.  None of them have shown him how to save Jack, and his flipping between pages has gotten more and more frantic as the evening has worn on.

“Dean,” he acknowledges, turning back to the book.

It’s about angelic diseases.  And, as far as Cas knows, it’s totally false.  He’s never heard of an angel getting sick before.  

“It’s been hours.  You need to take a break.”

Cas glares. “I do not need breaks.”

Dean sinks into the chair beside him, watching him carefully.  For his part, Cas returns his gaze to the pile in front of him.  It’s become clear these past through hours that the cure to Jack’s illness isn’t going to be in a book.  There have only been about a dozen Nephilims over the course of human history.  None, to Cas’s knowledge, have ever had their Grace ripped out.

“I’ve been thinking about something since I talked to Jack.”

Something about the tone in his voice makes Cas look up from his book.  Dean takes one from the top of the stack and opens it to the table of contents.

“He asked me about love.”

Cas nods.  Apparently, he’s just been asking around the bunker.  He’d overheard Charlie telling Maggie about it when he’d gone to find a few more books.

“And I started thinking.  About how I’ve never said some things that I should have.”

This is not the right time for this.

“Dean—”

Dean doesn’t look at him. “After Ramiel nearly killed you, you said something.  And I was too scared to do anything about it.  I just need you to know that—”

“—I know,” Cas says. “I do, Dean.  I just can’t.  Not right now.  With Jack, I—”

Dean nods, looks down at the books. “Right.  Yeah.”

He gets up.

When he returns, he has coffee and a blanket that he passes over to Cas without a word.  Then, he takes the seat beside him and opens up his book.  Cas glances over at him when Dean’s not looking.  There’s going to be a time for this, he swears it.

Because being here with Dean?  It’s like coming home.

(ao3)