#cas + PTSD

[shallowseeker]

My favorite new thing is that even when Cas was having a psychological breakdown, he still found a way to rag on Sam about his annoying personality.

[bisaster-energy]

people who hc cas as this just. guy that helps dean with his issues and trauma. why are you living that "no one cares that you're broken cas" life. why are you not caring about him.

[dessertbird]

Daily Destiel 💙💚

I’m fine. No you’re not, Cas. 🥺😭💔

[suncaptor]

literally every main character has autistic traits and ptsd let's be real.

[bitacrytic]

Cast a Shadow [02]

"Are you willing to do anything I want?"

"Okay," Joe said, letting go of Ming as he tried to shrug Ming off his elbows. "This is getting weird."

Ming kissed him, crashing his lips into Joe's so quickly that for a moment their teeth clashed. 

When Joe gasped in shock, Ming slotted his tongue into Joe's mouth, grabbing him by the neck as he turned Joe's head the way he wanted. Joe melted against him, holding on to Ming as Ming pressed him back till Joe hit the bonnet of his car.

WARNING: ABUSE, TRAUMA RESPONSE, NONCON

CHAPTER TWO

It was a miracle that Ming was alone.

Joe rarely saw him alone. The few times he had, Ming's guards always appeared like the wind, brushing off any encounter like human interaction was a danger to Ming's health.

But this time, he was alone.

As Joe slowed down and lowered the passenger window, he half expected to be accosted by the big, buff men who seemed able to disappear and appear at a moment's notice. But no one came.

"Do you need a ride?" Joe asked.

Ming didn't reply.

Squatting on the side of the road with a forgotten cigarette slowly burning between his fingers, Ming stared into nothingness. Even when Joe honked his horn, Ming didn't move, didn't startle.

Wherever his mind was, it wasn't anywhere near where he was squatting.

Clearing to the side, Joe got out, pulling off his jacket as he approached Joe to cover him. Once again, he wondered if the guards were present. If they were, he wondered why they hadn't come to get Ming.

As he squatted to meet Ming, Ming gasped nearly jumping out of his skin as Joe moved to steady him. With nothing else to stop their fall, Joe slammed Ming into the metal bars right behind him as Ming groaned in pain, finally coming back to life.

"What the fuck?" Ming cussed, closing his eyes as he grimaced.

"I'm so sorry."

Joe had such horrid luck. For weeks, he'd been trying to talk to Ming since he got back into the country. Unlike his sister who was a regular visitor on set, her brother had never been to any of the sets of any of the movies that Akarayota Enterprises sponsored. The only reason Joe knew who Ming was, was because he'd walked into him at the hotel where Wut threw a closing party, in Tong's last movie.

As far as Joe knew, Ming didn't interact with anyone in the movie industry and probably didn't even watch any movies. A silent recluse who was always followed by big, scary guards.

It was just Joe's luck that the one day he'd found Ming alone, the one day they could actually talk, he'd gone and mistakenly assaulted the man.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

"Get your hands off me," Ming said, shrugging Joe off as Joe moved away.

"My bad. Look, I-" He searched for a way to salvage the situation. "Do you need a ride home?"

"I'll find my way home."

"How?" Joe asked. "Where are your bodyguards?"

"They're where they're supposed to be," Ming said, a somber anger in his tone.

Joe immediately backed away, hands raised in the air for Ming to see.

"That's fine," he said. "I meant no offense."

He turned and headed to the car when he heard a soft gasp emit from Ming.

"Are you alright?" Joe turned back to find Ming staring at him, eyes wide with barely concealed horror. "What's the problem?"

"You just..." Ming began, shaking his head. "You... from behind. You look like someone I know."

"Oh?" Joe asked with an exaggerated, charming smile. "I've been told I have a stunning behind. I should," he said. "After all, I'm Tong Saelim's stand-in."

"Stand in?" Ming asked, unconsciously taking a step toward Joe. "What's that?"

"A stunt double for the movie star."

"Tong is a movie star?"

"You don't know that?" Joe asked, perplexed. "He's your sister's friend."

Ming scoffed. "More like fiancée."

"What?" Joe asked, ears prickling for that bit of information. Mostly because it was the kind of thing Yim would want to hear about.

"No," Ming said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have said that." He covered the distance between them. "You can't tell anyone."

"Okay," Joe agreed immediately, noting how distressed Ming sounded and looked. "I won't tell anyone," Joe said, holding Ming by the shoulder, to keep him calm but mostly to keep him from coming closer so he wouldn’t mistakenly shove Joe into the street. "I promise."

Breathing hard, staring at Joe like he was trying to choose whether to trust him or not, Ming frowned at him as his hands held Joe by the elbow, keeping Joe from actually moving away.

"You don't have to worry about me," Joe said, starting to worry as Ming's hands tightened. "I won't say a thing."

Ming leaned closer, moving right into Joe's space as Joe held his ground, weary but curious as to what Ming was going to do.

"Are you a good actor?" Ming randomly asked, confusing Joe beyond reason.

"Uh... as good as I need to be."

Because as beautiful as Ming was, Joe was slowly starting to realize why he didn't welcome human interaction. In the two minutes since they'd met, they'd hopped from one conversation to another with no clear transition. And while it was fun to stare into the round, big eyes of the mysterious pretty boy, Joe wasn't sure he was ever going to be able to keep up.

"Do you do as you're told?"

"What?" Joe asked, unable to fight the cringe that went through his body.

"Are you willing to do anything I want?"

"Okay," Joe said, letting go of Ming as he tried to shrug Ming off his elbows. "This is getting weird."

Ming kissed him, crashing his lips into Joe's so quickly that for a moment their teeth clashed. 

When Joe gasped in shock, Ming slotted his tongue into Joe's mouth, grabbing him by the neck as he turned Joe's head the way he wanted. Joe melted against him, holding on to Ming as Ming pressed him back till Joe hit the bonnet of his car.

As much as he wanted to keep going, Joe turned his head away, dislodging the kiss as Ming's hands clenched his jaw, trying to bring him right back.

"We're outside," Joe said immediately.

Just then, the lights from a passing vehicle washed over them as Ming seemed to come back to himself, looking away from Joe as the spell broke for another second.

"How far away do you live?" Ming asked, watching the other car drive away.

"Not far," Joe replied, his heart beating in his chest at what Ming's question could possibly mean.

"Take me there," Ming said.

And for once, Joe couldn't believe that good luck had somehow found its way to his doorstep.

*

There was no way.

Joe couldn't believe it.

Not even while it was happening.

With his knees spread against his bed, Joe rocked back against Ming's targeted thrusts as he pumped his dick with his free hand. It hadn't even been up for discussion. The moment they got into the apartment, Ming had stripped and positioned Joe on his knees, whispering against his skin as he kissed down Joe's back. Speaking words that were barely meant for Joe's ears.

But Joe wasn't usually particular about the mechanics. As long as everyone involved had a good time, Joe was always down. If Ming didn't want to bottom, that was just fine. By the time Ming slid into Joe, inch after inch till Joe was quivering with need, Joe realized that he'd been right not to fight Ming about it.

Moaning away as Ming pounded into him, Joe wished for his orgasm, coasting towards it with reckless abandon. So close. So hard. So sweet. Joe's eyes were clenched shut in anticipation, in thirsty want. So near.

"Oh," Joe gasped when he felt Ming's fingers encircle his neck.

At first, it was a passing flicker. A tentative touch that came and went between thrusts. But as the night progressed, Ming's touch became more certain, pressing against Joe's throat with more boldness each time.

As Joe's orgasm neared though, both of Ming's hands wrapped around his neck, pressing tightly against his throat till Joe's movements staggered. He batted at Ming's hand, a silent request for Ming to let up, but Ming only pressed harder, his thrusts coming in with more force than he'd used before.

"Ming," Joe croaked out as the hand tugging Joe's dick went to his neck, tapping harder.

But it just seemed to incite Ming more as he pushed Joe's head down.

Mind spinning at the abrupt appearance of possible danger, Joe reached for Ming's hands with both of his but the movement left him without a wedge as his head flopped onto the bed, dislodging Ming's dick completely.

"Ming, this isn't-"

Ming lifted a leg and stamped right on the back of Joe's head as Joe reacted on impulse. Turning over on the bed, he grabbed Ming's leg, shoved it away, and pulled Ming to the side, throwing his weight around as he switched their positions.

On his back, beneath Joe, Ming laughed at him, his face twisted into maniacal glee.

"I forgot that you're a stuntman."

"What the fuck was that?"

"I'm sorry," Ming said. "I mean, I was going to negotiate but I've decided I quite like that your resistance is real."

"Are you crazy?" Joe asked, his heart beating a million beats per minute as he looked down at the man he'd only ever seen as angelic, who'd somehow caught a devilish glint in his eyes.

"You should know," Ming said. "That my bodyguards are never more than twenty feet away from me."

"What the fuck does that have to do with you trying to kill me?"

Instead of answering, Ming called out, "Willy!"

"Yes, Khun-Ming," a deep voice answered from just outside Joe's doors as they opened and a tall, muscular man walked into the apartment.

Breath shuddering, Joe tried to get up. Ming held him in place.

"I'm going to do a few things tonight and I honestly don't want you to like any of them."

"Ming-" Joe began but Ming cut in.

"Take out your gun, Willy."

Willy reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun with a silencer already attached to it.

"What are you doing?" Joe asked, shoving Ming away as he crawled toward the edge of the bed to get away.

"If he gets off the bed, shoot him in the leg, Willy."

Joe stopped moving just as his foot was about to touch the ground. Putting his foot back in, he turned to Ming.

"Why are you doing this?" Joe asked, his whole body rigid with the thought that Ming was crazy enough to get Joe shot and rich enough for such a crime not to matter.

"If he raises his voice at me again," Ming said, looking right at Joe. "Shoot him in the leg, Willy."

"Please," Joe said, kneeling before Ming as Ming crawled over to Joe.

"If he tries to fight me in any way," Ming said. "What are you supposed to do, Willy?"

"Shoot him in the leg," Willy replied. 

"Oh," Joe whimpered as he covered his mouth as scared tears fell from his eyes.

Moving behind Joe again, Ming's hand returned to Joe's neck. Joe winced, closing his eyes as more tears poured from them.

"How does it feel," Ming asked. "Now that you can't hurt me?"

"I have never-"

"Shhhhhh," Ming said

Joe's mouth clamped shut.

With his nails digging into the side of Joe's neck, Ming asked, "Do you want to suck my cock?"

"Oh god," Joe pleaded.

"Tell the truth," Ming said.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Tell the fucking truth, Tong!" Ming commanded.

Crying, Joe said, "I am not Tong."

"Yes you are," Ming whispered as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss against the back of Joe’s shoulder. "You’ve buried yourself in my skin Tong, but tonight? You’re the one who’s going to bleed."

As Joe quivered beneath Ming’s mockingly soft touch, he realized that he should have known.

If the pretty boy that Joe had been thirsting after for weeks suddenly wanted to fuck Joe, he should have known.

That his luck had never been that good, to begin with.

♡♡♡♡

♤♤♤♤

Chapter One on AO3

[anadrenalineslut]

people getting mad headcanons to me is like getting mad at someone for playing pretend incorrectly like what do you mean i'm pretending this character is autistic incorrectly?

[starnana7]

não gosto qnd falam q o cas merecia melhor que o dean, sim, o dean cometeu erros e eles nem sempre eram os melhores um com os outros, mas vcs falam isso como se só o dean tivesse errado, como se o cas também nunca tivesse feito nada, o que só é mentira e também só descredibiliza e simplifica demais o relacionamento deles. infelizmente as circunstâncias não eram as melhoras para os dois serem as melhores versões deles mesmos, mas isso que deixa o relacionamento do cas e do dean mais bonito ainda. é e sempre será destiel então juro não vamos falar besteira… fã ou hater. tipo o fato de que o cas ama o dean incondicionalmente, mesmo com todos os defeitos e erros dele, ele literalmente viu o dean por completo e mesmo assim ama ele — por causa disso, ele ama o dean, porque ele sabe que, mesmo que o dean se veja como alguem ruim ou ainda comete alguns erros, dentro dele é só amor. e o cas sabe o quanto de merda ele fez também, ele traiu o dean, fez os anjos caírem, matou inúmeros deles… e mesmo assim o dean também ama ele, mesmo assim o dean prefere ter ele, amaldiçoado ou não. então juro esse discurso aqui # não cola # eles foram feitos um para o outro !!!

mesmo discurso vale para quem acha q é unilateral e não consegue ver o dean como bissexual e acha que ele tratava o cas que nem merda sendo que isso só é mentira.

[its-wabby-stuff]

It’s the Apocalypse, But We Can Still Have Fun

This image is a little outdated btw ^^

Chapter One/Two:

The bright red glow of Raph’s ninpo illuminated the hallways as the building settled. The sounds of cracking and rumbling echoed through the building, like thunder in a rainstorm. It wasn’t going to hold for long. Dust from the concrete started to fill the space, making it difficult to breathe, and harder to see.

“Help!” A tiny voice called out. It came from my right, but I couldn’t see anyone. “Help! I’m slipping!” Slipping? Oh no, they’re holding onto something. They’re about to fall. Look down. There was a giant hole in the ground, and a small hand gripping the edge. The floor was barely holding on, and just above it, a support pillar was caving under the weight. That was a loaded space. He had to move.

“Kid, if you can hear me, I need you to let go!”

“What!?”

“Let go!”

“But- I’ll get hurt,” his voice cracked.

“You’re going to have to trust me,” I said as comforting as I could, “I’ll catch you, I promise.”

A chill ran up my spine as the very nature of the world felt colder and darker as that terrible purple monster returned to the corner of my eye. Something that always made me pause, just for a second and turn my head. Nothing. Nothing was really there. They weren’t really here. It’s just a mind game, a trick of the light, something I still can’t explain. But I could hear his voice. Whispering words that carried the weight of screams. I woN,T mÆKe Įt iÑ tïMe. I hAve nØ iDęa wHErë hĒ Įs. I dOn,T kńOw Whæt I’m d°1ng. Agh, this isn’t the time. The kid wasn’t letting go- but the massive pillar was and the ceiling collapsed.

“DROP! NOW!” The little hand slipped over the edge.

[dayeongi]

The older I grow, the more intensely I say "Jesus fucking christ that was some really messed up shit I've survived through" and it's both as horrifying as it is something to be proud of

[shallowseeker]

Moral injury + the horror of the Violent Self

This especially describes post-Heaven-war Cas (then, Cas checks out of life by taking Sam's pain + commits symbolic suicide in Purgatory) and post-Gadreel-Dean (then, Dean checks out of life as drugged-up!disinhibited!Demon + commits symbolic suicide by turning into a bomb to take out Amara):

Moral injury describes the deleterious effects of acts of commission (e.g., killing noncombatants), omission (e.g., failing to prevent a massacre), or betrayal (i.e., by a trusted authority figure) during military service that transgress accepted behavioral boundaries and norms. Transgressive acts are proposed to lead to a guilt- and shame-based syndrome consisting of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms, demoralization, self-handicapping, and self-injury.

The most common potentially transgressive act was killing an enemy combatant (17%)

General combat exposure was indirectly related to PTSD through fear

Overall, these findings suggest that veterans with a history of potentially transgressive acts may present to the VA with a constellation of symptoms that are associated with combat-related guilt

focusing on fear-related outcomes and ignoring guilt- and shame-based reactions may lead to an incomplete case conceptualization

x & x

[deansmom]

Reading cas as autistic is a totally valid take, but I also kinda hate it because I hate how it’s always this other worldly being who has no context for social cues/norms that is read as autistic. It just feels even more Othering tbh

Like cas watched humanity for centuries, am I supposed to believe that he doesn’t have a vague working knowledge of our weird social norms and expectations? He’s an angel, he’s not a human, so he doesn’t feel any desire to fit in or concern himself with those unwritten rules. This is evident when you watch the other angels interact with humans. They’re all like “please bsffr rn, I have THINGS to do. I literally don’t care about your feelings.”

And again, Jack just has no context for Why he’s supposed to follow these unwritten rules that humans have. It’s not that he doesn’t understand them or he’s unaware of them, he’s just like “…right, but have you considered that you’re all actively dying and it literally doesn’t matter if I say please or not?” And his outbursts are quite literally just the result of an incredibly powerful Being being part human and not being able to emotionally regulate well because he’s been alive for [checks watch] 3 years and most of that was full of trauma, which fundamentally changes the way your brain is wired and how it processes emotions????

Like, I DO understand these reads and I don’t want to yuck anybody’s yum because I can see a lot of those behaviors in them. But something about deciding the alien (Spock) or angel (cas) or nephilim (Jack) character is autistic does rub me the wrong way, and I can’t quite put my finger on what about it feels so Othering/icky.

[lesbiten]

the later writers of supernatural want me to care about dean so much and im sorry but past like season 7 he is nothing to me

[dessertbird]

Daily Destiel 💙💚

Talk to me. 🥹🥺❤️

[suncaptor]

the thing is I don't actually think Cas can fix the neurobiology of disorder in the brain in many situations even though they're references to that in vague terms. which is why even though this is not the authorial intent I think the best he could do was transfer some of the malfunction with his vessel's to have some type of template without altering certain necessary parts of Sam's brain (including memories & identity) which left him with a rush of neurochemicals active in hyperarousal and psychosis and Sam with his memories which would still take in the form of PTSD again but without the sudden onslaught of the wall breaking in his head.

[crayonurchin]

Hey you know when you think you're doing really good and it takes a single trigger to sent you flying back to a bad spot that you end up truly breaking down to your therapist about?

Yeah...

Except SURPRISE THAT'S NOT THE END!!!

Cuz you were in a good enough spot to feel the impact of falling down that far! That, my dear, is a sign of progress. So pick yourself up and get back to climbing and reach more checkpoints in this hike.

[starkskypines]

truth in the angel’s garden

a little sabriel for swoon june day 16: alternate prompt: hug

>>>

Sam breathes out a quick breath and then another and another and tries to get a handle on his raging emotions. It’s dark in his room and that’s a hindrance to his breathing, so he reaches for the light switch as quick as he can, letting the thundering in his chest remind him that he’s still alive. The light flooding the room is too bright, like staring into the light of Gabriel’s angel grace before Sam forces his eyes shut lest he goes blind, but it beats off the demons well enough. Figurative ones that is. The ones that haunt Sam’s dreams until they become nightmares that leave him waking terrified like this.

It’s a consistent thing now with him being a hunter for so long. He’s grown used to nights like these for the most part. As much as one can get used to something that no normal, sane person would ever be used to. He’s used to them enough to be able to get some rest at night. He has his routine at this point, and it works to calm him down. He focuses on the light both literally and figuratively. The lightbulb provides light to fight off the darkness in his room. The warm images of Dean and Cas and Jack and Gabriel provide light to fight off the darkness in his mind.

Tonight, he focuses on the memory of him and Jack looking for the perfect flowers for Castiel’s garden. It was only a few days ago that they went flower shopping. They went through the farmers market first and then the greenhouse a few blocks over. Jack was very specific about getting the right flowers for Cas and scared of disappointing him. Sam told him that this wasn’t something that could end in disappointment. If they got the wrong flowers, Cas would love them anyway because of the gesture. Jack believed him eventually, and they left with a trunk full of a variety of flowers. From daffodils to sunflowers to tulips. And even ferns and a climbing vine of some sort that Sam didn’t quite understand the appeal, but that Jack knew was something Cas spoke of before.

And of course, Cas did love the flowers and the gesture behind them, and he planted them almost immediately in his flower garden right outside Sam’s window. Well, right outside the living room window downstairs, which Sam is above and which Sam could go to right now. He could let the rich scent of dirt and the lingering floral scent wash over him like a tide across the shore of a beach he secretly calls home because he’s never been able to call a burn-blacked house in Kansas home.

Sam spent the night at Dean and Cas’s for the weekend before he heads back out to California for a few weeks, though on nights like these, he wonders why even bother going back to his empty apartment there. He doesn’t truly miss California enough to keep returning, but he doesn’t have reason enough to impose his stay here.

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