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Alex, 22. Blogging from the Boston area.

I like all the things! I am in half a million fandoms, I like to write, I like to play video games, I like to talk about things that are serious and I really like to talk about things that aren't. I have a lot of opinions on media and narrative and am generally full of feels.

Currently Watching:

Currently Playing
Thief

Currently Reading:
The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

I am lady Dean Winchester.

I watch Third Star too much.



***2012 & 2013 Nanowrimo winner****
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sadrobotinabowlerhat:

Summary: Dean can’t stay, Castiel can’t leave, and Sam’s left to fill out the insurance forms. Watching an angel break is one thing, but figuring out where to put the pieces is something else.

Crossposted at AO3 and Livejournal


[Cas, I am not Lucifer.  Calm the fuck down and just listen.  Come on, stop fighting, it’s me, Cas…]

Sam leaves Dean with a desperate, struggling Castiel and goes to find Meg, followed down the hall by Dean’s grunted assurances that he has it “under control, Sammy, just go.”  Half an hour later, Sam bursts through the door to find Castiel sitting on the bed and Dean crouched against the wall, staring at his hands.

“He just stopped, man,” Dean says without glancing up.  “He was Linda Blair one second and then just, I don’t know.  Gone.  He stopped struggling, said, ‘It’s fine.’ and sat down.  He hasn’t moved for…” He checks his watch. “Ten minutes.”

Sam turns from Dean to Castiel.  He tries to examine the angel from the doorway, though he has no idea what to signs to look for. Even offline like this, Cas doesn’t seem human.  He’s staring at nothing, but his gaze isn’t empty.  It’s like he can still read the universe in every dust mote that floats by his eyes – even if none of it registers.  Sam nods. “You think it’s gonna stick?” 

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Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing? Beautiful in a trillion different ways. The last perfect handiwork of God. You ever hear the story of how I fell from grace? You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him. More than anything. And then God created…you. The little hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before you—to love you, more than him. And I said, “Father, I can’t.” I said, “These human beings are flawed, murderous.” And for that, God had Michael cast me into hell. Now, tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right? Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it?

Why would I want to destroy this stunning thing? Beautiful in a trillion different ways. The last perfect handiwork of God. You ever hear the story of how I fell from grace? You know why God cast me down? Because I loved him. More than anything. And then God created…you. The little hairless apes. And then he asked all of us to bow down before you—to love you, more than him. And I said, “Father, I can’t.” I said, “These human beings are flawed, murderous.” And for that, God had Michael cast me into hell. Now, tell me, does the punishment fit the crime? Especially when I was right? Look at what six billion of you have done to this thing, and how many of you blame me for it?