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spn ficlet: not on any map (dean, cas)
What's this? What's this? A commentfic/art meme at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sassy_otp and a multifandom dystopia commentmeme at random_dystopia? GDI, internet, why won't you let me write my summergen in peace?
Being that the finale is in 14 hours, I guess I should post this 6x20 coda already. Or maybe it's a 6x20 reprise? Either way, it was mainly caused by staring at these graphics until my heart threatened to crawl out my chest and die weeping on the floor.
Not On Any Map
Supernatural. Dean, Castiel. G. Spoilers through 6x20. 330ish words.
Maybe it’s your tunnel vision that undoes you, the suspicion that maybe you can only love a few people at a time if you want to love well. And what have you done well this past year? All the good things felt like one step forward after taking two steps back. You still think about Adam. At times, you find yourself missing Sid. You can’t tell if this is self-loathing or self-awareness.
Cas flitted in and out of your life as if on a whim. You couldn’t predict it unless you called him first, and even then it was questionable. “When’s Cas gonna show up?” they’d ask, but you’re as much his keeper as the weatherman is the keeper of the rain. There was once a time when a phone call at 4 AM meant he thought he found God or another way to beat the devil. Well, God has left the building. The devil is in a hole. Cas doesn’t even have a cellphone anymore.
For all that you’ve spent these past few years dismantling fate, you have lived your life along strict lines of inevitability. Your brother is the closest thing you have to believing in destiny: life always returns you to each other, and that’s just how it is. There is no such inevitability between you and Castiel. You are not each other’s assumptions; you are each other’s exceptions. There is no road map, no precedent. The two of you have always been your own cartographers, though at times you drew blind.
The holy fire throws the room into stark contrast. Cas is a blur of deflected questions, but he stills at the sound of your voice. You tell him to look you in the eye and he can’t. When you ask why, he replies you, like this is the only way he knows to find his way back to you. No part of you thinks you should’ve seen this coming, and that is maybe what hurts the most.
sassy_otp and a multifandom dystopia commentmeme at random_dystopia? GDI, internet, why won't you let me write my summergen in peace?Being that the finale is in 14 hours, I guess I should post this 6x20 coda already. Or maybe it's a 6x20 reprise? Either way, it was mainly caused by staring at these graphics until my heart threatened to crawl out my chest and die weeping on the floor.
Not On Any Map
Supernatural. Dean, Castiel. G. Spoilers through 6x20. 330ish words.
Maybe it’s your tunnel vision that undoes you, the suspicion that maybe you can only love a few people at a time if you want to love well. And what have you done well this past year? All the good things felt like one step forward after taking two steps back. You still think about Adam. At times, you find yourself missing Sid. You can’t tell if this is self-loathing or self-awareness.
Cas flitted in and out of your life as if on a whim. You couldn’t predict it unless you called him first, and even then it was questionable. “When’s Cas gonna show up?” they’d ask, but you’re as much his keeper as the weatherman is the keeper of the rain. There was once a time when a phone call at 4 AM meant he thought he found God or another way to beat the devil. Well, God has left the building. The devil is in a hole. Cas doesn’t even have a cellphone anymore.
For all that you’ve spent these past few years dismantling fate, you have lived your life along strict lines of inevitability. Your brother is the closest thing you have to believing in destiny: life always returns you to each other, and that’s just how it is. There is no such inevitability between you and Castiel. You are not each other’s assumptions; you are each other’s exceptions. There is no road map, no precedent. The two of you have always been your own cartographers, though at times you drew blind.
The holy fire throws the room into stark contrast. Cas is a blur of deflected questions, but he stills at the sound of your voice. You tell him to look you in the eye and he can’t. When you ask why, he replies you, like this is the only way he knows to find his way back to you. No part of you thinks you should’ve seen this coming, and that is maybe what hurts the most.