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adeptune01 · 1 year

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alright sorry to go on a supernatural rant in 2023 but...

it makes me feel insane.

Not to beat a dead horse or anything but like destiel will be it for me. Nothing else will ever compare to it. Like a man is raised by an absent father- a father who demands to be obeyed without question. A father who praises guilt, who tells the man that he is his brother's keeper. That he is responsible for all of his actions and those actions affects on others. The weight of the world is on his shoulders and he must bear it alone.

This man, the one that is single-handedly trying to save himself along with everyone he's ever crossed paths with, fails. He sacrifices himself to save his brother and he dies. He's sent to hell, a land of eternal punishment. 'No less than I deserve' he probably thinks.

But then he is saved. Not because of anything he's done. Not because of a deal he or his brother or his father has made. He is saved by a cosmic being of unfathomable power because of his nature which has been deemed by THEE Abrahamic God as being fundamentally good. The man who has hated himself his whole life for not being enough, not doing enough, is declared to be good.

And he feels guilty as hell. He didn't deserve this. Of those hundreds of people he's helped over the years...one of them...ANY of them is better than him. If he's God's strongest soldier then God is going to lose. He is going to fail God just like he failed his own father.

The man spirals while the heavenly power that saved him watches from afar. The power understands the man. He understands what it's like to hold Father to the highest esteem. He understands what it's like to blindly follow orders, hoping for the best. He also understands that the man has the brightest hope-filled soul he has ever seen.

So the power decides to help, and to do so he breaks away from the rest of heaven's contingency. He grows into his name- Castiel. The shield of God (I am not joking that is what Castiel means), created to protect humanity. AND become a pair with the Michael Sword- the man who believes he is unworthy- DEAN.

Through the years- DECADES- there's ups and downs. Divots and cracks in the Almighty's plans. But nothing they can't handle. They grow close and become more than allies in the fight against ghastly horrors beyond comprehension, they become best friends.

They have wild west movie marathons in the basement room designated as Dean's own "Fortress of Deanitude". They hang out late at night at crappy diners eating crappy pie. They go out cruising the town. They listen to the same music. They play pranks on each other. They learn about and remember each other's interests.

Their relationship grows deeper.

They fight. They lie. They attempt to kill each other. They raise a son together. They try to mentor a daughter. They leave. They come back. They mourn. They celebrate.

Together.

Two beings- one human, one angel- who were alone- whose defining characteristic was who their fathers were- prove that it's possible to break free from predestination, from circumstance. Their love, first as friends, then as something more, is as strong as the force that binds the universe- stronger, even.

And then they die.

Separately. Both convinced that the one thing they've wanted, the unnamed thing they've been fighting for, is the one thing they can't have. Because their fathers said so.

Despite everything, in the end, their fathers won. Dean died on the job he couldn't quit from an accident he couldn't help. Cas died obeying the first and most important commandment his Father gave him- to love and protect humanity.

THAT story is what I will never be able to get over. Not mentioning the gothic Americana aesthetic, the clear Protestant 'for by faith' message, the criticism of hyper-masculinity, the exploration of the 'American Dream'.....

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phoenixmakeswords · 5 years

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Dented Ch. 3--AU

Finally thought of a name for the AU.

“Why haven’t you answered my texts? Do you not want me anymore?” I ask carefully. Just asking hurts. I forgot this much pain was possible.

“What? Kristoff, of course I want you. You’re my son. I just got your texts five seconds ago. Remember I was going on that camping trip? I told you about it at the restaurant. And that I wouldn’t have cell service.”

“I feel like a dumbass.”

“I still love you. Come in. You’re not okay. What’s going on?” She leads me from the entry hall to the spacious pale blue living room.

“Besides Regan being horrible? I went to a party on Friday. Clare’s girlfriend was having at her lake house. Anyway, it happened again.” My face twists into a grimace as I sink onto the matching blue sectional. It’s much softer and more plush than mine.

“What’d Regan do? Who was it?”

I show her the text reluctantly. It gives me a little time to dredge up the courage to tell her about the party.

“I was really drunk. Blackout drunk. Clare told me today he was blond and she thought his name might be James. I remember doing shots with Clare and then I woke up in a bed.”

“Did Clare know? Did anyone try to help you?”

“Yeah, she knew. Apparently, I could be heard over the music. Nobody did anything that I know of.”

“How’re you doing with this?”

“Oh, I'm peachy. I lashed out at the one guy I actually trust. I'm cutting class because I don’t want to look at Clare right now. Things are just fabulous. Oh, and I'm not sleeping and I'm really depressed. Can’t get better.”

“Have you thought about getting help? I believe you, Kristoff. I hope you know that. I'm sorry you’re suffering.”

“Yeah, telling a stranger about this sounds great.”

“Kristoff.”

“I might be leaving the bakery.”

“I thought you loved it.”

“I sorta slept with a guy’s brother and he’s being a jerk to me about it.”

“Were you a couple?” She sounds more excited than I expected by the possibility of me having a boyfriend.

“No. Just a hookup.”

“You know that’s not safe. Are you using protection at least?”

“If they don’t wanna use a condom, I don’t sleep with them. That’s like the only rule I have.”

“At least you’re being smart.”

“How was the camping trip?” I don’t want to discuss my sex life.

“It was good. There’s something really important I need to talk to you about.”

“You found a fae village in the woods.” I smirk teasingly at her. She’s my best friend. That might make me a mama’s boy. I don’t care.

“No. I met a guy. He’s really sweet. He asked me to dinner for this Friday.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s sweet. He’s genuine. He has kids of his own. He’s very respectful.”

“Does he work?”

“He’s a video game designer.”

“How’d you meet him? Was he a client?”

“His sister is my best friend. He came on the trip with us. The poor thing, he was the only man there. We started talking and we just…clicked.”

“You didn’t sleep with him, did you?” The idea fills me with horror.

“Kristoff!”

“Now you know how I felt.”

“You’re a brat. If you need to not be alone, you know you can stay here.”

“I know. Ransom’s been staying since it happened. He sleeps in the guest room. And he keeps making me breakfast.”

“Do you like him?”

“Does it matter? I'm so fu—screwed-up. I mean, yeah, we slept together before it happened.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. I know that’s hard for you to believe. But you do.”

“If it hadn’t happened, he was gonna ask me out.” I sigh softly.

“And? How do you feel about that?”

“You sound like a therapist. It would’ve been nice. I mean, he’s a great person. He’s hot. He’s smart.”

“Is he still interested?”

“I think so.”

“Are you interested?”

I nod slowly. He’s someone I would like to date. Someone I could maybe be with.

“He sounds like a good guy. He might be good for you,” she tells me gently.

“He is a good guy. He deserves better than a mess like me.”

The depression has become a physical weight in my chest. What happened and the fact I don’t deserve to be happy or in a stable, healthy relationship don’t help any. I am worthless.

“Alright, you have me really worried. Kristoff, are you thinking about killing yourself?”

“I'm not quite there yet.”

“Bu you’re still really bad?”

“Yeah. I don’t get like this.”

“I know. If you need to check in somewhere, I’ll take you. You have my support.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t wanna be hospitalized. I don’t wanna start therapy. I just wanna get through this crap on my own and go on with my life.” I rub my fingers absently over my phoenix tattoo. It was the first piece of ink I got. And it’s the most meaningful. Because phoenixes rise from the ashes. No matter what I face, I'm able to bounce back eventually. Right now, I need that reminder.

“I hate to tell you this, but you’re not Superman. There’s no shame in getting help.”

“I know that.”

I don’t want to need help. I know how society sees people who have mental health issues. And I don’t want them to see me that way. Ransom comes over after his shift tonight. He has a black duffel bag with him this time. Anger flickers in his jade eyes, despite his friendly smile.

“If you don’t wanna babysit me, it’s fine,” I assure him quickly.

“You’re not the problem. I like you. I met your sister.”

“How’d that go? Regan’s a nightmare, isn’t she?”

“You’re nothing alike. We’ve already butted heads.”

“So, they hired her?”

“Don’t threaten me like that. Did you know your sister doesn’t like Jews?” An edge slips into his low voice. I don’t like the distrust in his green eyes.

“No. Ransom, if I had, I would’ve told you.”

“Riley told her off. I know she’s your family and everything, but she was an utter bitch to me.”

“That would be Regan. Are you okay?” I touch his forearm gently. The sleeve of his black hoodie is soft.

“I'm irritated with her. I'm more worried about you.” He smiles gently.

“You still like me? I'm sorry she was nasty.”

“You’re not racist. You okay? I’ve dealt with it a lot.”

I shake my head quietly. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve talked about it enough today.

“What do you need? We can go do something. Or watch movies or whatever will help,” he murmurs gently.

“I'm sorry. You don’t have to stay.”

“You’re my friend. You’re in crisis. I'm not abandoning you.”

I didn’t think he’d want to stay. I know it’s inconvenient. A hassle. Which means I am. But here he is.

“Thanks.”

“How was class? Did anything interesting happen?” He sounds so genuinely interested it surprises me. Guys don’t do that.

“I walked out. Clare and I got into it and I didn’t want to look at her.” I sigh shakily. I feel like all I do anymore is break down. So much for ‘masculinity.’

“You cut class? You never do that. What happened?”

“She knew what happened. Everyone knew. And nobody tried to help me. She blamed me. I didn’t hear from her all weekend either.”

“I thought she was your friend.”

“Yeah, so did I.”

“For what it’s worth, I believe you. And it’s really crappy that they did nothing.”

“Thanks. How’d you meet my sister?”

“I did a tattoo for her. A simple rose she picked out of the book. Took twenty minutes. She argued with me about the aftercare. Called me a stupid kike. That was when Riley stepped in.” He rakes a hand through his hair.

“She should’ve never done that. You’re not stupid. And she should’ve never called you a slur. I'm sorry.”

“I didn’t get a tip. Because my people are ‘money hungry penny-pinching misers.’” He toys with his blue Star of David necklace. I’ve noticed he does this when he’s upset.

“How much was the tattoo?”

“Forty. It’s not a money thing, Kris. It’s the fact she played the anti-Semitic card. The fact she used my race as the reason to not give me a tip, not my work.”

“I knew you were tryin’ to get a new car. That’s why I asked. I'm sorry.”

“You’re not giving me the tip your sister should’ve. I don’t take handouts or pity.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to piss you off. I'm sorry, Ransom. I was tryin’ to be nice.”

“Were you? Or were you trying to be my ‘rescuer’?”

“Yeah, I was! I thought you’d be happy that I was tryin’ to make up for her.” I flinch at the sound of my own raised voice.

“I stand on my own feet. By my own merit.” He sounds just as angry as I am.

“I don’t wanna fight with you.” I don’t have the energy. I’ve spent it on fighting the battle raging inside my head.

“Me either. And you didn’t need me arguing while you’re already feeling bad. Which makes me an ass. I owe you an apology for that. I'm sorry.”

“Forgiven. Thank you for staying.”

“You’re welcome. And I'm not being nice to you just so we can hook up again when you’re okay.”

“I wouldn’t hate you if you were.”

I wish that wasn’t true. I wish I would be angry with him if he was using me. But I can’t do that. Ransom’s sleeping soundly on the couch when I get up. He’s even more adorable asleep. I envy his easy sleep.

I start breakfast, even though I don’t feel much like eating. I don’t feel like going to work or class either, but I have to.

“Good morning. Did you get any sleep?” Ransom says, startling me.

“A couple hours.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I am. I'm gonna send my teachers a text and explain what’s going on.”

I know I can’t avoid Clare forever. I shouldn’t have to. She should’ve believed me and been on my side. But she wasn’t. We’ve known each other since we were fourteen. I mean, I used to go to her family’s holidays because Regan and I fought so much. Clare’s pretty much family to me.

“Good idea. Any way you can take your classes online?” He looks perfectly at home in my kitchen with one of my mugs clutched in his slender hands. I wish the thought didn’t make my stomach twinge. I’ve never had hope for a picket fence of my own.

“I’ll ask.”

I dread going to work almost as much as dealing with Clare. Maybe more.

“Text me on break?” he asks hopefully.

I agree easily. By the end of my shift, I'm ready to quit. Eight hours of being sexually harassed does my fragile mental health zero favors. My boss knows. She doesn’t care.

I don’t tell Ransom over text. I don’t want to upset him. If I tell him at all, it’ll be face-to-face.

I have a text from him, inviting me to dinner. He’s clarified that it’s not a date, which I appreciate. I agree easily.

Maybe if I wasn’t such a broken mess, I’d ask him out. Maybe if I thought he could like me more than for just sex. Maybe if I wasn’t so scared. But I am.

#my writing #lgbt fiction #kris pov #phoenix writes #writing excerpt #original fiction #original fanfiction #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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