Here’s another snippet that’s really a whole chapter. And yet ANOTHER that was spawned by talking with @theriverscribe This was the start to the DID fic we talked about. I got so damn nervous, I have a good chunk of the thing plotted out and never ended up writing more than a few chapters and chunks before I got scared I was screwing up and buried it in my files. This here is a very rough – unedited – first chapter
Continuing my catch-up coda spam, here’s the next one! Written without any knowledge of 13.13.
PSA: quite a few of my taglist subscribers suddenly aren’t able to be tagged anymore. If you’d like to be added to or removed from the taglist, or your url has changed, please send me a note so I can update! Thank you!
It was kind of nice.
Not mind control. Mind control is never nice. Having his feelings messed with always leaves a roiling pit like Charybdis in the bottom of Dean’s stomach, a sort of disgust that won’t ever manifest as anything other than shame.
But it was kind of nice to just enjoy being in love for a minute.
Notes: Would anyone be interested in a companion fic to this?
He was never going to die. Never going to stop feeling sharp hunger pains in his stomach, never not going to feel his own blood sliding down his skin. Never going to get rid of wires sealing his lips shut so he couldn’t even scream out his agony. It was a fact he was slowly resigning himself to.
Then his cell door opened.
His cell door never opened, not even when they fed him. They just shoved the food through a slot in the door. It usually didn’t land anywhere near him, forcing him to crawl forward as far as his chains would let him and eat off the floor like a dog. (He hadn’t eaten in a while. The wire got in the way.) Even when they tortured him, they knocked him out with magic so they could move him to the room with all the weapons without letting him learn the layout of the place and possibly plan his escape.
“Gabriel?”
Gabriel raised his head, muscles screaming in protest, and squinted through the blood in his eyes. Whoever it was was so tall and broad they blocked most of the light that came through the open door. God, he couldn’t even see their soul. He almost wept.
The person approached Gabriel and he didn’t even bother to flinch, just let his head drop forward and closed his eyes. The person didn’t draw on his skin with a knife or sow wires into his skin, though. They were doing something with his chains – taking them off? Were they going to move him somewhere? The chains clattered against the stone bench Gabriel sat on. The person squatted down to take off the chains around his ankles.
They stood up and picked him up like he was a rag doll. Their shirt was too rough on his skin and their hands were too tight on his wounds. Gabriel’s head lolled back and he tried to moan pitifully, but between the wires in his lips and the dried blood gluing them together, no noise came out.
Read the rest on AO3 (because it’s apparently too long for tumblr mobile to handle and I can’t post it from my laptop at the moment).
Part 5/24: Kenopsia noun 1. the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that is usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet
It used to be that Castiel loved the bunker at night.
Before, when he was still an angel (and on the rare occasions he spent the
night), he would wander the quiet halls or sit up in the library. The steady
ticking of the clock in the war room and the hum of the refrigerator were
welcome and comforting sounds, reminders of the precious souls that worked and breathed
and lived within the bunker’s walls. And in some small way, it was as though
Castiel was keeping watch, standing guard over his human charges. His family.
He would walk past their bedroom doors and hear soft sounds and gentle snores
and he would know that all was well.
Since he fell, nights in the bunker have stopped being a comfort;
for reasons Castiel can’t identify, the building unnerves him. When it’s late,
the only place he can find any kind of solace is his own bedroom. It’s
isolating, yes, lonesome even. But the walls don’t feel so close and the air
doesn’t seem so… dead.
Castiel likes the car though. He always has, despite his grumblings
about wings and cramped spaces and the dullness of driving. But the Impala is
different, somehow separate from all of that. She’s a part of the family, as
much as anyone. She’s a wife and a mother and a protector; she’s safety and
she’s home.
And now, traveling down the 160 with the radio playing
softly and Sam and Dean bickering in the front seat, Castiel feels more calm
and at peace than he has in weeks.
“Hey, Cas.”
Castiel blinks and looks forward. Dean’s turned around in
the front seat, looking at him expectantly. It’s with some surprise that
Castiel notes they’re parked; he’s apparently been staring off into space.
“Chow time, you comin’ in?” Dean says, then starts climbing
out of the driver’s seat.
“Yeah, right,” Castiel says, peering through the windshield
at the dingy-looking Burger King. Its harsh, glowing sign lights up the empty parking
lot, and when Castiel steps out of the car after Dean, he notes that the road
behind them is completely deserted too. It must be very late. “Where are we?”
“Kayenta. Still a couple hours out,” Dean says over his
shoulder.
Charlie, a highly-strung, openly gay over-thinker, and Nick, a cheerful, soft-hearted rugby player, meet at a British all-boys grammar school. Friendship blooms quickly, but could there be something more…?
Nick and Charlie are characters from my debut novel, Solitaire. Heartstopper updates three times a month, on the 1st, 11th, and 21st.
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Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 