#even being able to feel someone’s yearning or whatever while they say no jsut sounds like the makings of a headache to me

[bluephoenixdruidicprincess]

Of Happiness and Failures -- Part 2 -- Lost and Found

Another Sastiel drabble I’ve had mulling over in my head for a while. So I decided, why not add to the first part and kind of make this a Sastiel Chronicles of drabbles and oneshots of just whatever kind of pops into my head. 

It had been 6 months since the loss of Dean and Sam could acknowledge to himself that he wasn’t coping well. He was trying, he was trying to live the life Dean told him to live, to live the life he himself had always wanted for himself. But somehow it all felt empty knowing Dean wasn’t around. As a teenager, he had always wanted the normal “apple pie life” -- a partner, two kids, a steady, respectable job, a house in suburbia, family meals, family game night every Thursday, yell at his son to get off the video games, threatening his daughter’s new boyfriend to treat her with respect -- but while having that fantasy, there was always a part of him that felt living this life that Dean and their father had been very vocal about that wasn’t possible, he felt like he could live out this fantasy and be alright as long as Dean was living in this world. Sure, Dean might disown him for running to this life, Dean may never be a part of this life Sam wanted, but Sam was okay with that, he was content with the feeling of just knowing Dean was out there somewhere. Now, the fantasy Sam had always dreamed of felt wrong to him...because he knew Dean wasn’t there. 

Dean, you jerk. That life you wanted me to live, it means nothing to me if you’re still now here, Sam thought to himself miserably. Sam had tried a few half-hearted attempts at dating in the past few months but it was just that, half-hearted. Nothing felt right to him anymore. Not even hunting felt right anymore. As much as he despised the life when he was younger, he couldn’t deny that there was a focus to it, something about it centered him. When he did go on hunts and he saved the kids, saved the dame and damsels in distress, he used to feel better, that everything going wrong in his life, it felt like it could be okay again. Now, he saves who he can save and while he’s glad he was able to help, even hunting doesn’t feel right to him anymore. Sam finds appreciation in doing hunts but also no longer feels that content center and focus he used to feel. He hunts the things, he saves the people, but it no longer feels like the family business. There’s just emptiness. 

And when he thinks about how empty he is, his mind goes to a place it really doesn’t want to go. It goes to Cas, to the loss of Cas. To the guilt of letting Cas go and not being able to bring him back. And thinking about Cas now, Sam decides for the first time to pray to Cas. He’d always thought about it but he was afraid to do it. He was afraid to be left with the knowledge of knowing there was no one on the other end that would hear him. But right in this moment, Sam feels at the darkest and just needs to do something familiar, something that always felt reassuring to him, even if it will inevitably break his heart. 

C-Cas? Castiel? Cas, are you there? I don’t know if you can hear me wherever you are. I doubt the Empty lets you receive phone calls. Or maybe Jack was able to save you? That might be too much to hope for. Speaking of which, you’d be so proud of Jack. He saved the world, just like you always believed he would. If Jack did save you, I’m sure you have lots of things to do, far more important things than listening to the prayers of a broken Winchester. I mean, the last time we were in this situation, I was lost with no soul and you were...somewhere, I prayed to you and you didn’t answer I remember being so irritated with you but now, with all of this time we’ve spent together, I think I understand why you didn’t answer. It wasn’t because you were busy, it was because you didn’t feel like I or Dean truly needed you at that point. And it’s always been like that, hasn’t it? You always place your worth and value on if you’re needed. But I’m telling you this right now, Cas. I’m not praying to you because I need you. I’m praying to you because I miss home and you were a part of that home and I want to see home again. I want to see you again. I don’t know why I’m doing this, you probably can’t hear me anyway. But if there’s a chance you can, just know that when I think of home, you were a part of it and no matter what you may have thought, you weren’t a part of it because I needed you there, you were a part of it because I wanted you there. And I just wish I could have that right now --

“Hello, Sam.” Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? His last hunt was with a djinn, maybe it didn’t go as well as he thought it did. Sam turned around and right before his eyes, there was that familiar trench coat cloaking an individual with blue eyes and dark hair and suddenly Sam didn’t care if this was a djinn dream, he’d happily die at the mercy of this hallucination if it meant he could see Cas one last time. Sam wasted no time, he ran up to Cas, this piece of his home that he’s at last found again and he hugs Castiel for all he’s worth. “Cas, I don’t care if this isn’t real, it’s so god damn good to see you again.”

Cas looks at him with that familiar perplexed expression he always carried when trying to figure out human emotions. And then he smiles at Sam. “I missed you too.”

“How long have you been back?” Sam asks, almost afraid to hear the answer. 

“Since Jack defeated Chuck. He brought me back from the Empty.” Cas pauses before continuing, “I am sorry I didn’t come to you or to Dean when I was brought back. I have no excuse. I could say I was working to fix heaven but the truth was that I was scared. I honestly didn’t know how to face you. We parted ways rather awkwardly.”

“It doesn’t matter, Cas. I’m just glad to know you’re still you and you’re still here. I’ve been so lost lately, Dean’s death, your disappearance, it was destroying me. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Even though you’re here, I still don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Yes, I know about Dean, if it consoles you, he is in heaven and he is content and happy and at peace. You say you’re lost? Can I help in some way? Not that I feel like you need me to or anything. I want to help you, Sam Winchester.” 

Sam laughs under his breath, “you heard the prayer didn’t you?”

“It was a rather potent beacon of yearning.” 

As they walk to the kitchen, “So, do you want anything? A beer, maybe,?” Sam asks. Jack knows, Cas probably deserves one. Cas responds, “Actually, a PB&J sandwich sounds good right about now.”

Sam looks back to Cas with a smile, “are you sure? You said you could no longer enjoy those.” Cas looks at Sam with a whimsical expression, “my time with the Empty, as brief as it may have been, made me realize some things.” Just because all I can taste are molecules, doesn’t mean I still can’t enjoy it. And while I was in the Empty, I found I deeply regretted not having a PB&J sandwich before I was taken.”

“Alright then, PB&J it is”. Sam starts taking out the necessary tools to make this famed sandwich that left such a mark on Cas. And as they sit down at the table, Cas with his PB&J and Sam with a beer, Cas gets right down to it. “Sam, why are you feeling lost? You defeated Chuck, and even though Dean isn’t here, nothing is stopping you now from truly living, so why aren’t you?”. 

“I don’t even really know. I’ve long since moved past the notion that I’d be able to have the “apple pie life.” And for  long while now, I’ve always been content with just being a hunter. But since Dean’s death, I don’t feel that contentness anymore. It just doesn’t feel right anymore and I don’t get it. I still enjoy helping people but there’s a spark that just isn’t there anymore.” 

“If I may, Sam, there’s a reason I’ve always felt a kindred spirit with you. At first, I thought it had to do with empathizing with someone who always wants to do the right thing even if it goes awfully wrong as we both have done. But now, I think I realize what we share in our kindred spirits. Not our mess-ups, not our want to do good deeds. This may jsut be a shot in the dark, but it’s no surprise that with Dean no longer with you, you don’t feel passion towards hunting. That was always Dean’s passion, you went along with it because you loved Dean and you wanted to be with him. But even for you, just helping people is not enough for you. Sam, why did you want to become a lawyer? If you simply wanted to help people, there so many careers you could have chosen from. What makes us kindred spirits is not our desire to want to help, its our desire to make things right. As a lawyer, you could not only help people, but bring people closure and I think that’s where your true calling lies.”

Sam let out a breath and then spoke, “So, you think I should become a lawyer? Go back to law school?”

“I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m just making observations and I hope that can help you in what you decide to do next.” Cas gets up from the table, “Thanks for the sandwich, it really was enjoyable and I am so happy to see you again but-”

“You have to leave” Sam finished for Cas, “I get it. You and Jack are creating a new heaven. And go do that. Make a heaven where Dean can be truly at peace, he deserves it. And thank you, I don’t know know what I’m going to do yet but you gave me things to think about and I think with that knowledge, I think I can find myself again. And don’t be a stranger.”

“Don’t worry, Sam, I won’t ever be a stranger again, because you’re my home too.” And with that, Cas disappeared and for the first time in a long time, Sam felt something bright, he felt hope. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with this hope, but it’s there and he’s never going to let go of it again. 

[rickktish]

Do you ever just...

look at the stuff you know you can never publish without somebody saying “kinky” and turning it into a fetish thing, even though it’s really not a fetish thing at all, and feel sad?

There’s stuff I know I will never be able to share with anyone because it reads as being super kinky. It’s not kinky. It’s world-buildy. But other people don’t think how I think, other people don’t look at things the way I look at them, and other people don’t have the opinions I have. 

I just... I yearn for a platform where I can share something without being afraid of accidentally making someone uncomfortable because of what they think is a sex thing when I don’t view it as a sex thing. I yearn for a society where I can share something creative without having to worry about social issues and opinions and pushing everyone’s triggers by describing the human body.

Today I was scrolling through one of my favorite tags and found someone crying for everyone to unfollow someone else because they supposedly drew child pornography and fetishized trans people. Except that nothing in their argument actually looked like there was any porn or fetishization occurring whatsoever, so I decided to explore the person being defamed myself. And you know what? I just read one of the most beautiful, heartwarming fan comics I’ve ever seen, with a masterfully organized story and wonderfully done EVERYTHING and I loved it to bits and it takes place in a fantasy world which the author of the original work outlined but (as far as I’m aware) never fully fleshed out. One of the characters is shirtless as originally drawn by the author of the original work. The (cisfem) fan artist headcanons this character as trans, and states in her explanation of the story that she spent a long time debating how to incorporate that into her work, and ultimately decided that the character shouldn’t be forced to have recieved top surgery in a medieval setting or to change his outfit in order to “qualify” to be trans. So she draws him throughout the entire comic series, which is at least a hundred posts long and totally worth reading through, as having his breasts exposed when he’s shirtless.

The person who was defaming that artist whose post I initially read was incensed that this cis artist had chosen to depict this character in this way. They held the belief that the artist was sexualizing an underage character and fetishizing his transness by using he/him pronouns for him while exposing his breasts. They argued that the artist clearly hadn’t asked the opinions of any trans people on this matter and ought to be degraded for it.

Except... as a trans man, reading about a trans man who is comfortable enough and free enough in his world to not have to get top surgery or cover up to be accepted was enormously freeing for me. It was incredible to me how accepting literally everyone in the comic was, even to the point of punting me out of my suspension of disbelief several times. Literally no one misgendered this character even once. The only time in-universe that the character’s sex was discussed was for a gag referring to a child he and his partner had accidentally adopted. And the artist’s style is wonderfully unique and simplistic and hardly graphic, to the point that while it was sometimes clear that the character had his breasts exposed, there was never anything uncomfortable or sexual about it. It was literally just another piece of character design, another facet of his apparel reflecting his personality and character. It was glorious, and I revelled in the absolute freedom that this character experienced, that I deeply envied and longed for. (which is not to say that I want to be able to walk around with my chest exposed, because I’m honestly usually not comfortable even in just short sleeves; I prefer to stay well-covered regardless, but the element of acceptance was astounding and deeply moving to me.)

But apparently several people have gone after this artist for “sexualizing” a character and “fetishizing” his transness by not requiring that he “pass.” Not only the person whose discourse initially led me to that artist and their comic, but others as well.

And it makes me sad. Because I write stories about trans men who accept their bodies. I don’t have the experience of a trans woman to feel comfortable writing about that without being afraid of incorrectly portraying that experience, though I’d like to someday try to do that as well in my storytelling. I write stories about trans men who hate their female shape when they’re referred to by female pronouns but can accept and love it when they use male ones-- because that is my experience. I have pages upon pages of journals examining my own perspective, exploring why “she” hates her body and “he” loves his when they are both me and I am both and I have been both but somehow they define my paradigm, my self-view, my world, and I have no answers but I can only write what I know and what I know is taking comfort in accepting my body as it is and my pronouns as they are. This artist, although she is cis and has not experienced what I have, managed to portray that perfectly, and it resonated so deeply with me that I read everything she’s created for that series in a single sitting.

I write about breasts. I write about men with breasts. I write about women with breasts. I write about uncomfortable things, about different perspectives from the norm, about possibilities I have never seen explored. 

I write about an A/B/O universe where it’s not about sex, it’s about a society shaped by a biology entirely different to the one which has shaped our own. I write about Dom/Sub/Switch worlds that don’t have a single drop of citrus in them but have a whole lot about what it means to be “safe” and why it matters how much control you hold over your every moment of breath upon this earth. I write about fetishes in a de-fetishized context, because when you get bored enough to read every single fic on a list for a fandom you learn things you never imagined were a thing, and personally when I learn things I start creating.

But I can never post stories I write about trans men who breastfeed their children, not without editing that part of it out. I can never publish stories about people in their earlyi  teens who are aware of and formulating opinions on this “sex” thing, because even though American kids are taught the mechanics of sex when they’re twelve and thirteen and fourteen the internet doesn’t want to know that they-- that WE-- think on it and consider what the things we learn mean in an actual, world context. I read an argument recently that boiled down to “don’t headcanon fourteen-year-olds as ace they shouldn’t even be thinking about sex what’s wrong with you” and all I could read was “sure, we TEACH them about sex at that age but they’re not supposed to actually THINK about it” and I don’t think I’ve ever read a more accurate description of the American education system and it burned me, down to my very core.

This got a lot longer than I intended, but I guess all I’m really trying to say is that it makes me sad how pervasive our expectation of sex as a perversion is in this culture. This online culture, this world culture-- we talk and talk and talk about sex and shame those who do or think anything outside the “norm”-- whatever that qualifies as for the two week period you happen to be writing during-- and I don’t think anyone on this fucking hellsite even really understands what sex even is on a fundamental level. I’m sure it sounds insane to anyone outside my own head, but the very first thing we fetishized as humans was sex itself and I kind of really wish we hadn’t done that, because it led to the setting of a billion other rules of what is “normal” in regard to procreative acts and what is “kinky” and what is liable to give the next everyday joe to happen upon the pose a boner. 

Sex is an act of procreation. It is an expression between people of an understanding deeper than words can depict, whether that is one of love or one of shared escapism or one of impulsiveness. As soon as it was turned into an act of pure recreation, it became a hot mess that you all can’t help poking at and making weird faces. I have a friend who can’t even stand to listen to a health class discussion of sex because it makes her so deeply uncomfortable and that makes me so fucking sad you have no idea. 

I just... I wish the societal view of sex and its relation to the body didn’t exist sometimes. I wish people didn’t think in terms of sex first and ideas after. I wish people could actually be mature for once in their lives and remember that it’s not all about who can get the biggest orgasm from the weirdest shit.

i know other people’s opinions are different from my own. I try really hard to respect them. really hard. But sometimes, when things don’t make sense in my mind, when I see what I’m 98% positive is a better way of looking at an issue, I just... my empathy function shuts down and I jsut want people to listen and think for once in their lives about why they think of sex the way they do. Why they think of anything the way they do, really. But sex especially. 

Maybe I just want everyone to be able to compartmentalize the way I can, and I know that’s not reasonable in any way shape or form but it’s 3 am and I’m tired of bullshit and i’m’ sad and i’m angry except I’m not really angry I’m actually just sad. Really, really sad. and kind of hopeless.