Send me “Don’t chase the rabbit” and your muse will be shown a random memory from my muse’s past.
Soulless dared Jen to sext Castiel so. [text] Angel, I'd like nothing better than to have you under me so I can ride you until you're singing Hallelujah. (Jensen)
What's green, fuzzy, and will kill you if it falls out of a tree? A pool table.
This is a true statement.
pssssst! (sweet and sour sauce on my body)
(SOMEONE GET THIS WOMAN SOME SAUCE, STAT! SHE WANTS IT HER WAAAAY!)
❝ It’s very rude to stare! ❞
"Apologies," she muttered absently, continuing with the action without any indication of stopping. "It is just, I do not get to see angel’s wings very often," she brushed her hand through an appendage, all sense of politeness having left her. She felt fractals in the shape of feathers and nitrogen burn across her skin. She saw periwinkle and fuchsia coalesce around where her hand had brushed while the other beat a powerful counter rhythm that had the capacity to shake her bones to dust.
"Ah, apologies," she continued to murmur, "I did not mean to insinuate it that…way." She was focusing on a section that looked a thousand meters away yet remained inches from her face. Another area was undergoing considerable debate in her head, if it looked more like opals or diamonds, before Castiel’s waving hands caught her attention.
She blinked, and finally registered the worry on his face. Yidhra felt slightly embarrassed at her lack of decorum, and looked completely away from Castiel’s form to avoid being distracted.
His pleas for an answer struck her deeply, and she pushed aside her petty guilt for now. He needed help.
"You have not contacted Heaven for an answer?" She kept her gaze fixated on the wall. The brilliance of his wings was only discernible out of the corner of her eye, and she intended to keep it that.
It was a relief that the hands had finally caught Yidhra’s attention enough for her to stop. No longer being observed by Yidhra, the wings settled themselves into a more comfortable form made up of less physical and more fractions. “I don’t want to contact heaven.” He admitted. “I’m slightly afraid with what the answer will be. There are certain moments when an angels wings will be physical. Not all of them pleasant.” Maybe if he could find a way to hide his wings again and simply ignore the problem it would fade away to the back of his mind and never bother him again.
"Besides, this dosen’t hurt at all. And it’s…well it’s very inconvenient because I don’t think a human would handle seeing them well so I would have to keep them hidden carefully. And my halo is still not in view, so that strikes out a few things this could be."
The brightness of his being dimmed slightly, and she tried not to miss it too terribly.
"Yes," Yidhra agreed, "best to keep them as hidden as possible. As I recall it takes the fortitude of a Prophet or a Chosen One to be able to see even a fraction of the Light without going blind."
"I’m happy it doesn’t hurt," she said sincerely, "but what could it be if you’ve already eliminated a few possibilities?"
And the mention of his halo gave her pause. In all of the distraction of his wings she had forgotten the Holy Crown that adorns all angels. If she has seen one, her memory of it is either hazy or deliberately smeared. All she has in a image of gold and righteousness that can’t be blunted by mercy.
"Well, one thing it could be that is obviously isn’t is I’m dying. Because that only happens as a reflex when our wings attempt to try and fly us away one last time from whatever it is that’s hurting us. It’s why all dead angels leave behind an imprint of their wings on the moment of death. But that is a near instantaneous event. So I’m…I’m lost on this one." He gave a hopeless sort of shrug which sent the wings moving quickly through several planes of existence before settling back on just out of sight perception. Castiel sighed heavily. "It could be somethings wrong with me, but I can’t even begin to think what that could be. I’m at a loss right now Yidhra."
"You don’t need physical pleasure to understand the ideals of love! It hardly takes a human to understand that! And what is love to humans past the biological? You all seem to be so perpetually hung up on the idealized concept of sex that i’m surprised you even attempt it! And there is nothing wrong with having sex with someone for their benefit more than your own. People can have sex with someone they don’t love, or do it for money, of even do it to someone they dislike, so why can’t I also put the idea forth that you can do it for the sole purpose of giving something nice to someone you love? Why can’t their appreciation and the shared moment be enough of a reward?” Castiel sounded dangerously close to frustrated, like he was trying to explain something intangible as tangible, trying to force the concepts of a creature that isn’t physical into something a creature that was could understand.
"Dean doesn’t think I’m incapable. He told me I was his friend, and that he needed me. Need means useful and useful means capable."
“Useful doesn’t mean capable. Useful means useful. Like a tool. You’re Dean’s screwdriver.” Which was funny in a way, because Dean wouldn’t admit to wanting to screw Cas for anything.
“I never said you needed it, I’m saying love is more complicated than physical pleasure. If you can’t get the simple things how exactly do you think you’re going to get anything more complicated, feathers.” Sam rolled his eyes. Just because the idea of love sickened him didn’t mean it sickened everybody. Obviously. Why else would there be so many romantic comedies. Bleh. “Good sex is an ideal. Not that you’d know it if it kicked you in the eye.”
Sam scoffed. “If you’re talking about sex for love it’s supposed to be two-sided. If it isn’t you’re just feeding the other person’s optimism about the relationship. No self respecting human would force sex on someone who isn’t going to enjoy it past having a ‘shared moment’. Maybe angels have one-sided, obligatory sexual relationships that can be compared to gold-diggers, whores, victims and vindictive predators but you know what, that’s your prerogative.”
"I’m not a tool." Lie. Lair. Angels were tools. The ‘instruments of God’ and all that. It was even in their title. An instrument. But just because heaven saw them that way didn’t mean Dean did. "I’m his friend." He said firmly. Because if he couldn’t hold onto that what was there left? "Asexuals don’t like the idea of sex at all, yet there are those romantically involved that still engage for their partner. Frankly it all boils down to this, I have no desire at the present moment for sex of any kind from anyone. But if I loved someone and they loved me back and for both of us it was past platonic I would initiate intercourse with them. Because to watch another person allow themselves to unravel, to show a private side of themselves with no holds barred, that’s beautiful. And nothing you say can make me regret this choice of feel shame for it. This works for me, maybe you disagree, but I have every right to do what I want."
Huh, really? Guess that’s something different I suppose, did she like like him using that instead? Would be an awkward thing to use if one of them didnt like fish, though.
It was a he, and he died half a year ago. So it was just, bittersweet to be reminded of it. Happy and sad at the same time. He only used it with the person he was in love with. It was very sweet.
A ‘he’. “Oh right, sorry”, Dean apologized, feeling like a dick for making assumptions. Misgendering someone Cas knew, and who had passed so recently, Dean hoped he didnt ruffle the other man’s feathers. “My condolences. That does sound like as sweet thing to do for someone you love. Were you two close, he sounds like he was a good man”.
"We were very close. I took the loss hard at the time. I’m alright now. I mean, I’ve grieved and accepted it. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss him still. He was my best friend."
He was in his bed again. Sam was actually getting used to it, finding a sprawled lump under the blankets. Sometimes with wings, sometimes without. Both had merits. Without made it easier to get in beside Castiel, with was warmer. Either way he usually got up before Cas, he rarely slept longer than an hour or two. Today he tried an experiment. Sam often worked on weekends, and on leaving he pressed a kiss to Castiel's neck- and gently wrote his name S A M in permanent marker there before he left.
It wasn’t long after Sam had left that Castiel woke up. Fading grace or not, an angel was still an angel, and while he may now need to take certain actions to help keep himself functional it wasn’t nearly on the level a human would require. At least not yet. But the place he had decided on when the need hit was nice. It was big, soft, and smelled safe. Waking up was still a disorienting feeling, even after his last stint as a human. Nothing made up for several hundred thousand years of never needing to sleep. Today when he woke up there was something different. Ink. He rubbed at it with the pad of a finger and ultimately decided to leave it be. It wasn’t worth the haste of washing off.