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irrlicht-writes · 4 years

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the path we choose to walk on pt.4

So this is it. Part 4, everyone. The last part! We made it to the end! Wooo! (now I have to focus on my bang again) Thank you for being with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Tell me what you thought! Tell me what you liked! Tell me what you hated! (be nice though) @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @cass-said-i-love-you @professorerudite @insertdeeplyrics anyone else want on the tag list?

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Ao3

Part 4: let the good times roll

Sam and Eileen gift a painting set to Castiel one day. Dean isn’t sure why but they say it’s because he saved their baby. Later Cas admits to Dean that he barely remembers what happened.

As it turns out, Castiel sees the world vastly different than Dean. Dean’s no art critic, nor could he detect a masterpiece in the making but to him, Cas’ pieces feel alive. There is a certain aspect to them.

Castiel paints mostly with his fingers and the faces of the people are wonky at best but still, they stare right into Dean’s heart.

“They are dead,” Cas says, “but with this, they’re alive. There was a world people cannot understand today. You have changed so much in so little time and yet it remains – you will always look at the world with wonder in your eyes.”

Charlie helps them sell Cas’ art online. They sell somewhat well and Dean thinks that Cas is happy that he gets to help. Cas had said that he would’ve like to take a real job, but Dean shut him down very quickly.

Nobody would want to hire Cas – first, Cas didn’t even properly exist. And second; there would be too many days where Cas would have to stay at home. Any employer would only allow so many sick days and Dean is afraid of sending Cas to a therapist.

Even though he knows that they all probably need one, how would you even start explaining?

“Yeah, roughly 15 years ago I set off with my brother to find our dad and now our son turned into God. Oh and also we picked up this literal angel as our best friend and all of us – our son concluded who by the way was fathered by Lucifer – have died several times and then we just kind of went going.”

Yeah. No.

Not to mention all the additional bullshit Castiel would have to unpack. Dean’s been in a mental constitution once; he doesn’t really have to go there again. And he certainly doesn’t want Cas to go there – also, again.

The bees are still on Dean’s mind. He doesn’t need a repeat of that.

And anyway, the paintings are selling. And in time, they might even be able to ask for more money. Dean doesn’t really hold out hope but who knows?

Two years after Maria is born, Sam and Eileen get married. Dean knows that they’ve been discussing marriage for a long time and have never been able to decide whether it was for them or not. But then Eileen proposed and here they are.

“She asked me to accompany her with the ring shopping. I think she just wanted to use me for my fingers,” Cas says to Dean and Dean smirks.

“Do you think Jack’ll show up?”

“I don’t know. I’ve told him; and I’m sure he knows but whether or not he’ll actually show up... it would be good to see him again. But even if he can’t make it here, he’ll be watching over these two.”

They are about to begin the ceremony and Dean’s excited to be the Best Man. He’s never thought he’d get to be that for real so it feels like a dream. Maria’s supposed to be the Flower Girl but she hasn’t shown up yet.

“Cas,” Charlie rushes over to them. Cas blinks up at her, tilting his head.

“Maria doesn’t want to walk, she’s embarrassed. Do you think you can help her out?”

Maria has gotten overly attached to Cas in these past two years and Dean believes it’s just infatuation. After all, who could look into these big blue eyes and not fall for them? Dean, however, is a little bit upset over the fact that she likes Cas better than him. But he’ll just wait until Maria will appreciate cars. And that’s when Dean will win.

“Of course,” Cas replies, “come on, Miracle.”

Miracle has essentially become Castiel’s therapy dog. She follows him everywhere and makes sure he eats and drinks enough. She loves Cas to pieces and anyone who even looks at the angel wrong gets growled at.

Dean watches them walk away and gets his phone out. He knows that there is a photographer here that films things but he wants that piece for himself. And he has to go up there anyway, so he might just go now anyway.

It takes five more minutes before Cas was apparently able to convince Maria to come out – and even then, she’s getting carried. She’s holding the flower basket close to her chest and Cas encourages her to throw the petals down. Dean’s heart melts at the sight of them.

Cas stops next to the pew where Claire and Kaia are sitting and basically tells Maria to throw flowers on them. Claire laughs and playfully shoves Cas away from them. Jody and Donna are also getting petals thrown in their face. Everybody is smiling and Dean’s happy that he’s filming this.

Maria is giggling and throwing petals all over the place. “She was so stiff before,” Charlie whispers in his direction.

“She wasn’t even looking at me and now look at that. How is Cas’ gayness softer than mine?”

“You’re just intimidating.”

“Cas is an angel!”

Eileen is beautiful when she walks down the aisle. Sam next to him exhales and has the biggest smile on his stupid face.

“Mama so pretty!” Maria proclaims loudly while clapping her hands.

“Yes, she is,” Cas replies a little quieter. He has her sitting on his lap and he has a flower in his hair. Apparently Maria was supposed to give that to her mom but she had decided that it was for Cas, so now he was wearing the flower. It does fit him, Dean thinks.

The ceremony itself goes over without a hitch even though Sam almost breaks down crying twice. Dean was expecting more, if he’s honest. Maybe Sammy practised with Cas – apparently Cas is the solution to every problem.

Later, at the party, Dean holds an embarrassing speech about Sam and after, Sam dunks his head into a pie. This is fair, because Dean definitely deserves that. It’s all good, though. Cas laughs and wipes Dean’s face clean and Maria – still in Cas’ lap – giggles like it’s Christmas.

Dean dances with Eileen and Sam dances with Cas and Maria. Charlie’s taking pictures and Dean loves it. Cas can’t dance for very long and he leans heavily onto Sam but he tries his best for Sam and Maria both.

Dean loves him.

And someday, he’ll man up enough to actually say these words. He just needs a little bit longer. And Cas is here to stay. Dean’ll work up the courage he needs and then it’ll be alright.

Charlie is dancing with Maria and Eileen is sitting next to Cas. She’s taken her shoes off and is likely complaining to the angel that her feet hurt. Cas is holding the wedding bouquet now and Dean knows that Eileen will insist he keep it.

“I wish she would’ve thrown it,” Claire says and Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

“You were hoping to catch it, weren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

At the end, Jack didn’t show. The party had ended a while ago, but Dean and Castiel are still sitting on a bench outside. It’s a nice night, and Dean doesn’t want to drive home yet. There are no clouds in the sky and the stars are shining bright. Dean reckons that that’s Jack’s doing. He still wishes he would’ve shown his face.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Castiel says while leaning on Dean’s shoulder. “You know he doesn’t do that well with a lot of people.”

Yes. That is true but still – he hadn’t even come to congratulate Sam? He also still hadn’t come to meet Maria yet. Dean wonders what work a God has to do. Didn’t Jack say he wanted to be hands off?

“Don’t you miss him?” Dean asks.

“Every day,” Castiel replies.

Castiel raises a hand towards the sky and Dean sees a shooting star. But the star stops after it passes Cas’ hand.

Castiel retracts his hand and there’s a golden orb floating above his palm.

“What’s that?”

It glows brightly and it’s almost too much for Dean to look at. It compels him in the same way it tells him to stay away from it. Where did it come from? Why is it here? What’s it going to do?

“Divinity,” Castiel quietly replies and closes his hand, making the orb disappear.

“Dean, really?”

Dean sighs. He knew it was a mistake to talk to Sam about this. But he knows that Charlie would’ve squealed in his ear and honestly, Claire is still a bit too young for this to talk about it. And yeah sure, Eileen would’ve been an option but even after all this time, Dean still hasn’t improved on his signing skills.

“I know it’s stupid.”

“I didn’t say that. But have you even choked up an I love you?”

Dean is quiet.

“Oh my god, I knew it. Dean, you can’t just propose like that!”

“...shut up.”

He pockets the box inside his jacket. He doesn’t want to propose right now anyway. It’s more like a promise to himself, that one day he might be worthy of this. If – when he’ll find the words one day, he’ll be good enough for Cas. He can be.

He will be.

For Cas, the best thing that ever happened to him.

For Cas, who still thinks he’s barely tolerated.

For Cas, who sees the world as more than it is.

For Cas, who loves so much and has never been loved in return.

Their first kiss doesn’t quite happen as Dean would’ve imagined it – not that he had ever been imagining it in the first place.

Cas is watching Dancing With The Stars and he’s really fascinated. Apparently, he’s never danced before. Dean’s never told him about Garth and Bess dancing in front of the window. He wonders how they’re doing now. Maybe they’re dancing right at this moment, while Sam and Castiel are finally asleep?

“Dean, please?” Castiel’s blue eyes are pleading and Dean has a hard time saying no. Cas always asks for so little and Dean’s always liked dancing when he got a chance to do it – which sadly is not often. So he sighs and stands up from the couch, offering his hand up to Cas.

“Might I have this dance, milady?”

Cas blinks at him in question, and then looks at the outstretched hand. At last, there’s a smile stealing itself across Castiel’s face and he gently takes Dean’s hand and hauls himself up.

“Of course, my lord.”

Dean chuckles and pulls Cas flush against him. It’s been a while since they were this close together without one of them on literal death’s door. Cas is alive and warm under his hands and Dean starts swaying. He’s never danced a real dance, much less so with another man. But it’s not like Cas could dance at all, so it’s okay. And besides – it’s not about the skill, it’s about the experience. And Cas –

Cas is laughing. It’s a happy laugh and he enjoys himself. It’s truly a sight to see. It’s rare to see Cas so relaxed and Dean feels more than privileged to witness this much less be the cause of it. Dean swirls Cas on the spot and as the swirl ends, Cas stumbles forward against Dean’s chest. Dean holds him tight and it’s a good feeling.

Cas’ hair is brushing against Dean’s chin and he feels calm. He gently puts one hand on Castiel’s cheek and Cas nuzzles into it. Castiel’s hand is loosely laying on Dean’s chest and the volume of the TV playing in the background is already fading away.

Dean’s in love.

He’s in love with Castiel.

He gently directs Castiel’s face upwards and looks at the big, blue, blinking eyes.

He doesn’t understand how he got to be so lucky.

Dean bends down, just a little, and ever so gently presses his lips against Castiel’s mouth.

It’s a quiet kiss, one that doesn’t require anything.

“Dean,” is all that Cas says afterwards but Dean quietly hushes him.

“Shh,” he replies and kisses him again.

It’s easier than anything else he’s ever done.

He doesn’t remember why he was ever afraid of this.

This, right here, is where he’s meant to be.

With the TV running in the background, in his shitty apartment, in worn-out clothes, with a dog sleeping in her bed, kissing Castiel.

Sometimes things are just easy.

Dean holds Castiel tight and thankfully, Castiel doesn’t speak.

It’s the most comforting silence and Dean cherishes it.

He’s in love.

It’s a soft thing, after. Nothing changes and yet, so much is different.

He kisses Cas in the morning before he goes to work; in the afternoon when he returns; when they make dinner; when they watch TV.

It’s the easiest thing in the world.

And yet, Dean knows that Cas wonders.

I know you don’t love me.

But Dean does. He just can’t say it. If he did, then – then what would John say? Dad would judge him for this. Dad would call him a girl; and a fairy; and tell Dean that Dad hadn’t raised a gay son.

He’s still thinking about this in bed. Next to him, Cas is fast asleep, holding onto Dean’s arm. Miracle is snoring in her own doggy bed.

“I love Cas,” Dean says toneless into the dark room and is instantly overcome by anxiety. Somehow, even after all these years, he expects John to bust through the door and expose him and nail him to the cross or something.

He turns to his side and looks at Cas. The angel looks so relaxed in his sleep and Dean gently pats his hair. Cas mumbles a bit and burrows closer to Dean as if to seek warmth. Dean puts his free arm around him and pulls him as close as possible, tucking the angel under his chin.

He doesn’t know what to do. Cas deserves to be told. But whenever Dean thinks it might be the right time for it – then there’s John standing in the distance, observing and judging him. Dean knows he just has to do it, that he just has to push through. Dad is dead and nothing can happen anymore. But this fear is far too ingrained inside his brain. Maybe writing a letter would help? But somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.

Dean needs to say it.

He has to say it.

But he can’t.

He can’t.

For all his bravery, for all his courage – he can’t.

“A bird learns to fly when it falls.”

Cas is not in bed when Dean wakes up.

“Water will whittle away the mountain.”

Cas is nowhere to be found inside the apartment. Miracle is quiet.

“A flower will break through the concrete.”

Dean panics. In his panic, he runs outside.

“Long after its death, a star will remain in the sky.”

Outside it’s foggy.

But there is Cas.

Cas is standing outside, barefooted, and Dean is rooted to the spot.

There are golden orbs floating around Castiel.

Divinity, Cas had called them.

“Cas,” Dean breathes and the angel turns around.

“Hello, Dean.”

“What are those?”

“I’ve told you. Divinity.”

“Yes, I know, but what are they?”

“A burden shared is a burden lifted. Ever since I woke all the way back before time existed, a great many stars have died. And still, some remain in the sky. Did you never wonder where they go?

Their physical form shall burn from velocity, but what about the stars? What about them? Who catches them? Where do they go? Shall they forever be lost in space?

I was lost too, you know. I was lost ever since the start. Sometimes I think I remember. Sometimes I think I remember an all consuming light in the dark. Sometimes I think I remember the beginning before it ever began. Sometimes I think I remember the void, the naught.

And then, just as quickly, I lose it again.

Why did Father abandon us?

Why did He create so many of us, if none of us mattered?

Come with us, the stars whispered to me, we have no answers but mayhap we shall find them.

Why did the stars exist, if only to die? I didn’t want them to be lost and so I collected them. I found them in the void and I took them with me for I thought I might find a purpose within them. And in time, they started finding me. I became their haven, their destination.

But still, I was lost. Each time a star would find me, I think I can see the light in the void again, the end after the end. But soon these memories are gone, too, and I can only hold on to scraps. And I wonder.

What if I don’t remember at all? What if what I see are just fragments from the stars, showing me what they saw in their last moments?

Dean, you must know: time is not linear. What happens before will happen after. The end happens before the start and sometimes the beginning happens in the middle. This time, this life is just one stream amongst them all.

Some stars tell me of the end; and others tell me of the start. Maybe some tell me of the middle. And maybe some tell me of all, and all I get is the light in the void at the start.

I’ve wondered.

Why am I broken?

Why am I, of all the angels, the only one that’s cracked?

What went wrong?

Why was it only ever me? Why wasn’t perfect like the others? Why weren’t others cracked as I was?

Why was I the only one that’s ever looked to the stars and collected them?

What if Father never made me?

What if – what if I was created by something else?

And if so, what was it? And why? And why did Father allow me to continue existing? Did He perhaps just not notice? Did He perhaps just not care? Did He perhaps just think me merely another insignificant angel that He needn’t pay attention to?

What broke the connection?

Why am I the only angel to love you?

Was I whole before, perhaps, but if that was so – what shattered me? What put me back together? Where did the missing pieces go?

The light I remember in the naught – what is it? Where does it come from? Why does it matter at all, why do I care if it lights up the void or not?

Why do I cling to a light that does not matter?

I –

I’m lost, Dean.

Amidst the stars, I am lost.

From here on out, where do I go?”

Dean reaches out.

Castiel is standing there all alone, surrounded by what remains of the stars – surrounded by divinity.

He takes Castiel’s hand.

“Go with me,” he says.

“I love you,” he says.

Amidst the stars, Castiel smiles.

Dean thinks he can see the light that Castiel spoke about.

It’s a soft, shining light and it’s free.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a big thing, Cas, you know? What if I fail?”

“Then we’ll fail together.”

Dean buys a corner lot. It’s very expensive. But he has a dream. He doesn’t want to work construction forever. He deserves to be happy. And Cas is here. Cas is here, and Sam is here, and Eileen is here – and everyone is here.

He’s not alone and he can rely on all these people. They want to help him; they want him to be happy. He can do this. For the first time in his life, he can do something solely for himself.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have to depend only on himself.

Sam hoists Maria out of the car seat. He wants to go and help Eileen out of the car but if he did, she’d kick him in the shin.

“Are there no balloons?” Maria wants to know. Sam looks up. True, there are no balloons outside.

“I’m sure Uncle Dean’s got some inside, sweetheart.”

Maria grins from ear to ear and hugs her monkey toy harder. Cas had given it to her just a few years ago. It hadn’t even been her birthday; he had just wanted to give something to his niece. Sam is glad that they get along so well. But sometimes he debates: should they tell her that Cas is an angel? It’s not a problem right now, but he and Dean and Eileen will start aging one day while Cas will not.

But, ah well, it might be best to cross that bridge when they’d get there.

“Hunter’s Rest is a nice name,” Eileen says when she finally steps next to Sam. Sam just nods. It’s true. Sam had kept suggesting Roadhouse, in Ellen’s and Ash’s and Jo’s legacy but Dean had always refused. Dean hadn’t wanted to be a copy-cat of what they’ve been.

Dean wants something that’s his own.

And Sam couldn’t be happier for him.

It was a long road, getting here, and even now he could scarcely believe it.

But the Hunter’s Rest is officially opening today.

He smiles at Eileen, takes both his girl’s hands and enters Dean’s bar.

“Uncle Dean!”

Maria yells as soon as she spots her uncle and throws herself at his middle from across the room. Dean laughs and catches her. He lifts her up and holds her on his hip.

“How’s my favourite tornado?”

She giggles and hugs him tight.

“Where’s Uncle Cas?”

“He’s still in the back, sweetheart. Be nice to him today, okay? It’s not a good day. But I know he’ll be happy to see you, so why don’t you go say hello?”

Maria nods with a solemn expression on her face. She knows about Uncle Cas’ bad days. She shouldn’t be too loud on these and she has to understand that he might not want to play as much with her. She loves Uncle Cas. She wouldn’t tell this to anyone because she knows Uncle Dean would be upset, but Uncle Cas is her favourite. There’s a glow about him that she can’t explain to anyone, but it draws her to him.

Uncle Dean puts her on the ground and she goes to find Uncle Cas. When she finds him, he smiles at her. He looks tired and sick, but he glows so brightly today.

“Hello, Maria,” he greets her.

She steps closer and climbs into his lap.

“I love you,” she says and Uncle Cas hugs her tight.

“Looks good, Dean,” Sam says to Dean in the meantime. Dean grins and pulls his brother close. He nods at Eileen who waves back.

“How are we coming along?” he asks her and she rubs her stomach.

“Good,” she replies, “the doctor says it’s two.”

“Two, huh? Man, Sammy, you dog!”

Sam laughs and Dean slaps him on the shoulder.

“Maria was really hoping for some balloons,” Sam says and Dean shrugs.

“I have some in the back, but I don’t know if I should hang them up. It’s gonna be a few hours still until official opening, you know?”

“Are Charlie and Stevie coming?”

“Yeah, Charlie’s gonna help me set up the music. The others are coming too, but Donna can’t make it. Some important thing came up but she’s gonna drop by in the coming days.”

Sam nods.

“There should be balloons,” Eileen pipes up and Dean sighs deeply.

“Fine,” he says then, “but y’all are helping me with that. I ain’t the only one blowing these things up.”

“I overheard,” Cas says as he’s rolling out of the back in his wheelchair. On his lap, there are Maria and a big load of balloons.

Dean sighs. “Why am I being set up?”

Castiel smiles at Dean. “Because balloons make everything better. We should’ve gotten glitter, too, you know? We’ll help, Dean.”

“Bad day, huh?” Sam asks him while they are placing the balloons. Dean nods.

“Last couple days actually. Yesterday was the worst; he wouldn’t even get out of bed. The day before that, he spent almost all day puking into the toilet. But he’s getting better now, I think. It’s just – I know that he’s sick. I know that these days happen and that they’ll happen again, it just – it just fucking scares me, y’know? Knowing that there’s nothing I can do, no spell to find to cure him or anything – it just makes me feel so helpless.”

Sam puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, you’re doing great. What you’re going through – what you both are going through – is extremely stressful. I can’t even imagine. I can’t imagine all the hurdles you had to go through to get here. How scary it has to be to wake at night and see Cas being sick again. I’m proud of you, Dean. I really am. You’re holding it together so well and if – if you ever have to break, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. You’re not alone. You’re never alone, Dean.”

Dean huffs out a laugh and turns to hug his brother.

It’s true.

Their lone journey is over.

They started with just the two of them.

But they’re never going to be alone again.

“I love you,” Dean whispers into dark hair.

“I don’t know when I fell in love. I don’t know when I realised. But I love you. I love all of you.

We’ve endured a great many things, you and I. We fell and rose together, we burned and crashed together. And in all this time, you weren’t even supposed to be there. But you were. You fought and clawed your way back to me every single time, and I’ve never even said thank you. I never once appreciated all the pain and misery you had to endure just to get back to me.

No matter what, you were there. You were there for me and Sam when nobody else was. You stayed by your side since the very beginning and you overturned everything you believed in because you started to believe in me. You had faith in me, the man without faith. And through you – you became my faith. I believed in nothing, I had faith in nothing – except you. I had faith in you. When you were gone, so was my faith gone. And when you returned, you brought it back with you.

When we met, you told me that good things do happen.

For so long, I didn’t believe you. But you were right. And know what? That good thing that would happen to me was right in front of me. And we didn’t know. Neither of us knew. Who could’ve imagined?

A man afraid of flying and an angel afraid of falling.

We really did meet in the middle, huh?

I’m sorry, Cas. I never did right by you. All your life you thought you were wrong because you weren’t like the others. You always believed that you needed to atone for your sins someway. And I – I didn’t help you. I made you think that you were expendable, that you weren’t worth anything. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, because I was wrong.

You’re worth everything. You matter so much, Cas – to me, to Sam, to the world. I’m sorry that all of us have fallen short. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it up to you for all eternity, because I love you. If you’ll have me for whatever reason, then I’m yours. And I’m never going to let go. If I lose you, I will stop at nothing to find you again.

It’s you and me. Now and forever.”

“Look for the light,” Castiel whispers into the darkness.

“Look for the light and you’ll always find me there.”

At the end of a long, long life, Dean opens his eyes.

Above him, there’s nothing but endless stretches of blue sky.

Dean sits up and looks around.

He’s in an onion field and he stands up.

He turns to the side and sees him there.

There’s a trench-coat angel standing in the onion field, surrounded by the golden orbs of stars.

The wings behind him are magnificent and have the colour of a rainbow.

Dean starts approaching him.

Behind the angel, there is a massive tree.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

#supernatural #Destiel #castiel #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #eileen leahy #writing #spn fix it #spn 15x20 #fanfiction #hurt #hurt/comfort #dean x castiel #userpris

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saffronic · 7 years

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wooo boy, is it one of those days again? probably. do i want to talk about it? sure, why not. to no one in specific, just to myself and to get this out of my chest, really. no need to read this, it’s mostly a vent i will probably get rid of later.

i walked a long way in making myself feel better, and i know that there will be days i will fall back. but that’s okay, because my strides forward are much wider than the small trips i take on my way. am i where i want to be in my life? fuck no. i will get there though, without realizing it. what is it that i want in life? i have no idea actually.

i used to think that i wanted to be an artist, or a graphic designer, or an animator. but slowly, as depression took over, anxiety made me realize how behind i am when it comes to artistic creativity and progress, i just.. i don’t know. i never felt like i was where i wanted to be. here’s the bad part: last year i was happy with my progress. this year, i am not. i feel like i’ve hardly drawn any at all, and where my progress idled for the longest time. why? why’s this a thing all of a sudden?

ill answer those questions after i’ve answered where i want to be in life. summary: i don’t know. i want to be happy, that’s all. big job, small job, normal life, abnormal, as an artist, or as a secretary, i don’t give a hoot right now. i just want to feel like im moving forward. and i don’t feel that. i wanted to be, at one point, a kid’s book illustrator, but not even that comes to my mind anymore. i even settled to have art as some sort of hobby that could be a bit lucrative...

but right now it’s becoming a chore to just pick up a pencil and sketch, just to try and see my progress and hope whatever i put out is worth a damn. i am very unsatisfied, i am tired, i dislike my art, i dislike my style and i hardly have any inspiration. i know people say fight through the art block, fight through the whole lack of ideas, but i have so many files and pen sketches that i don’t like looking at.

i sketched porn, i sketched faces, i sketched dumb to cute stuff, nothing really that makes me feel the groove again. maybe i lack a fandom or something i’m really into? not entirely, i am very into pokemon (games, go and cards) but i guess i lack a few pushes to really get into it. and boy, i tried original characters too, and that went down the drain fast.

am i writing any? no. well, yes, but it’s mostly rp’s with kimmi and i am very thankful she puts up with my dumb butt when we tackle pokemon go stuff. i love the stories we tackle, and i want to elaborate on them more every time. i do want to draw about them too, but again, art eludes me.

art eludes me for a lot of things right now. and i get a bit jealous when i see other artists succeed and visibly improve when i can’t see that with my own things. hhhhhh, but i know im not the only artist that feels this, and i know it’s something okay to admit and take control over by admitting it because that’s a normal feeling. so yes, i do feel slightly jealous when i find someone else’s art so much better and gorgeous and note their progress--because i can’t see mine. i can’t feel it.

in short, i want to draw, and i miss the ways i was inspired when i was in college. the programs helped, having someone shove me and tell me ‘you have to spit shit out of your brain for a grade’ sort of helped me progress. and i was good. i miss that so much. and sometimes i wished i had someone to do that now with me, but i know i can’t expect that from anyone but myself and i am not one bit consistent with myself right now because i am lost my one routine, which was my job. and that in itself helped me with my mental scheduling. hell, it was probably the most accomplished i’ve felt in a long time. i was at least able to draw things during work when there was nothing else to do. all of those lapis and peridots...

i know this too will pass. i know i’ll kick my ass into gear. but i feel like i need to cry about this sometimes because it is hard being optimistic every day. yep, i’m upset at myself.

let me have this moment to cry. what’s wrong with that.

#the rust is silly #just breathe #breathe #very personal

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self-shipper-snowdrop · 5 years

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To My S/I Letters: Part 10

Wooo were at the doubles now… but hey, what can I say, I have a lot of love to give :P (besides all of the posts from here are less than four f/os so I’m good lmao)

A quick but important reminder! All of my ships exist completely independently of one another- each relationship has it’s own s/i, so each one happens by itself! Just something to keep in mind, since that means each relationship basically happens in it’s own timeline in terms of writing!

This is the Persona 5 letter set!

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My dear Joker,

You know, you say that you steal corrupt hearts, like the ones we take from palaces as the insanity of our lives continues on as Phantom Thieves. But yet, there’s one heart that you seemed to take all on your own- and that’s mine. From the day when we first met when you made me laugh, and it seemed to be all smiles until I crossed over into a place I wasn’t supposed to be. You’d kept my safe until my own persona had awakened, and we fought side by side.

But with every infiltration, I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes off of you. Before I knew it my heart was completely lost- in your hands, with no hope of getting it back. You’d probably think that I’d ask to return it, but in reality, I’m asking for something different from you- to keep hold of it, and never to let go.

Ever since I feel for you, the world has been brighter and more beautiful. I feel safer within it, and that I can trust you more than anyone else. There’s never a time with you that I can’t bring myself to smoke, and there aren’t very many I can say do that to me. So please, Akira, would you hold on to my heart for a little longer?

〜Bronwen

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Dearest Futaba,

Alert! There’s been a security breach… seems as if I’ve hacked your heart. But I think we both know that this kind of hack is the type that you want to keep around. There aren’t many that are helpful, but I’m thinking that this one has the distinct advantage of bringing us together.

But in truth, I’m incredibly lucky to be with you. I remember how in the beginning, neither of us could seem to look one another in the eye. We were so shy that getting through conversations could be hard, the first phase of our relationship built over the phone. Yet still, we broke through each other’s shells, a little bit at a time.

Now we’re here- able to hold hands, talk without worry, make it out in this world so long as we’re together. For that reason, I’m happy to be with you. We’ve grown so much together and I can see that we’re still improving every day, thanks to the support we have now. I couldn’t have done this far without you, so thank you for being here with me.

Yours,

〜Bronwen

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My panther,

I’m so glad to be with you. I love running my hands through your hair, looking into your eyes, and holding your hand wherever we go. I love the movie nights were I can cuddle into your side and rest my head on your shoulder, feeling your arm around me as we laugh, cry and have fun together.

When it comes to you, I seem to fall in love all over again very time that I see you. My heart aches when you leave, but she springs to life the moment that you’re back. It’s almost as if I’m addicted to you and being around you, because even if it’s only for a few hours until school rolls around once again, every quick kiss goodbye is bittersweet, my dearest Ann.

Although, in truth, it makes every reunion that much brighter.

Thinking of you,

〜Bronwen

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To my beloved Yusuke,

You’ve always compared me to art- paintings and sculptures alike, even if I’ve always been uncertain that I’m worthy of it. But while I hold on to every single word, especially as you ask to sketch me for practice or use me as your model, I feel as if the true masterpiece is my love for you.

I was drawn to you the moment that I saw you, even if the circumstances then were odd back then, there was always something about you that seemed to light a spark within my heart. The more time passed the more that single spark grew, until it became an ember trying to mutter out ‘I love you’. Now, the ember is a roaring inferno, as sometimes I’m so overwhelmed with how much I care for you I want to call out that I adore you to the skies above. The further miracle is that you felt the same way, and even called me your muse the day you told me that you felt the same way. I feel that story is more a work of art that anything else; because it’s not us me or you, it’s both of us, together.

Yours,

〜Bronwen

#romantic; the princess and the joker #romantic; hacked hearts #romantic; cats in the night #romantic; the perfect painting

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galaxy-starheart · 7 years

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16 MILLION SUBSCRIBERS!

WOOO!!! We made it to 16 million! I'm so proud of @therealjacksepticeye and this whole community for getting this far. I will never regret clicking on the one video- I believe it was one of @pixlpit's animations- that convinced me to subscribe to the channel and become part of this amazing community. I've been part of this community since just before the 8 mil milestone. Over these three years (wow, it's been three years?) I've watched the sub count double and the community grow, and it's just SO AMAZING. I wish I could have been here from the very beginning to see the channel slowly grow from the start, but at least I get to see it grow from now on because I'm sure as hell not unsubbing. Everyone I've met in this community is so goddamn nice and sweet and amazing, and I love how talented everyone is. More subscribers means more people to enjoy and create beautiful things, and more people who can make lifelong friendships. More subscribers means more people who's lives will be drastically improved- even SAVED- by the kindness and uplifting words from both Jack and the community. I know for a fact if I hadn't subbed my life wouldn't be nearly as happy as it is now, and I wouldn't have met half as many beautiful and amazing friends. @therealjacksepticeye I'd like to say thank you so much for starting the channel, for making videos every day, and for being so amazingly uplifting and funny no matter what. You've done so much for so many people, and you absolutely deserve to be thanked for it. You may say that the community is what made all this happen in the first place, but let me ask you this: who started the channel? Who posts daily hilarious videos? Who screams his head off every day for the entertainment of all of us? Who makes us theorise endlessly and gives us inspiration for art and writing? Who brought this community together in the first place? YOU! THATS WHO! This community is an earthquake of positivity and inspiration, but the epicenter is you! Thank you for all of this, and congratulations on 16 million subs!

#jse #jacksepticeye #jse community

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ourimpavidheroine · 8 years

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so are you saying you never want a comment that disagrees with you? sorry, not trying to be rude, just asking. I don't mean the other kind of comments like transphobic or whatever.

Well, I’m glad you don’t mean transphobic comments (or any others of that ilk) because no one needs to justify and/or explain deleting those.

What it comes down to is the difference between critique and criticism. A fair amount of readers don’t know (or care, in some cases!) the difference between the two.

A critique is something that the writer (or artist, or whomever) could potentially find useful in improving their craft.

A criticism is simply complaining about what you don’t like. There is no benefit at all to the creator in question.

So let me give an example:

CRITIQUE

Wait, I’m confused here. Is Wu in love with Qi or not? It’s not clear from that last chapter.

Why is this helpful? Well, it tells me that the reader is not picking up what I am putting down, so to speak. Now, there could be several reasons for this. It might be that I have not played all of my cards yet - I may have something planned and I am deliberately writing a slow reveal. In which case, all is well! It might be, however, that I have something clear in my head but I am not getting it across to my readers as well as I think I am. In which case, this is very important information! This is good feedback! I can go back and look at my work with a critical eye and say, you know, the reader is right and I am being too vague here, so I need to address this with more clarity in the next chapter (or whatever). I have gotten these kinds of comments and I always publish them. I value them, very much.

CRITICISM

I was really into this story until you introduced polyamory. It’s a terrible idea. I hate it.

What is the purpose of this remark? Will it help me to improve as a writer? No, it won’t. Will I change my story line because of it? Not even close. Is there anything that I, as a writer, can do with this remark? Absolutely not. But see, that’s the entire point of criticism. When people post comments like that it is all for themselves. There is no real exchange of ideas happening there; there is no response I can give as a writer to them that will be satisfactory. I am certainly not going to apologize because a reader doesn’t like what I have done with a story, be it characterization or plot. Why on earth would I apologize? I’m not sorry I wrote it that way. The reader is under absolutely no obligation to continue reading my story; they certainly haven’t paid for it. Only once has any of the readers leaving these kinds of comments been a reader that had left any kind of other feedback for me. In other words, people who make those kinds of comments have never bothered to engage with me before and are still not engaging with me. They just want to make a dramatic exit and have the last word. Why on earth should I indulge them in this?

I’ve been active on the internet since 1992; I have watched the rise of the comment section trolls. They don’t actually care about whatever it is they are trolling, despite their strident claims to the contrary. They’re just there to fuck shit up. People who care about something want to enjoy engaging with other fans, not proving other fans wrong. That’s your litmus test, right there. Is this person trying to engage with me in mutual enjoyable discourse or are they there to prove me wrong? If it is the former, then go for it, even if it might get a little heated (because that happens sometimes). If it is the latter, then fuck ‘em.

As I said earlier, my own personal troll here doesn’t actually like my fic and has said that directly. They are reading it for no other reason than to make horrible comments on it. (And this only came about after months of not actually reading my fanfic but coming here on Tumblr and asking my “opinion” on ATLA and/or TLOK which was a transparent excuse to reblog my answers with really nasty commentary on them, attempting to somehow prove me wrong. It was only after I stopped biting on their Asks that they actually went and started reading my fanfic.) I’m not going to help them do that by leaving their comments up on my work; it’s abuse, plain and simple, and I do not feel under any obligation to help an abuser. Especially not my own. My troll has tried over and over again to tell me that I am wrong for deleting their comments, by the way. They absolutely want me to help them by being complicit in my own abuse. Which is, in fact, a textbook abuser’s move; hell, it’s number one on the list. And it’s just not going to happen.

I have watched a lot of young and/or fragile writers pour their hearts and souls into writing fanfic, only to walk away because a reader felt entitled to leave useless, unhelpful and sometimes even cruel criticism. That goes for young artists as well; I’ve seen the absolutely horrible bullying that goes on here on Tumblr. Sending Asks telling an artist to kill themselves! What the actual fuck! It’s why, quite frankly, I have gently dissuaded my daughter from getting a Tumblr account and posting her art here. Those kinds of comments would devastate her. There is a big difference between telling an artist, “Hey, you know, I see you whitewashed Korra there, and as a person of color I’d really like to tell you why that’s a hurtful thing to do us and oh here are some links that explain about it as well,” and telling them to kill themselves or die in a fire or never draw again. But see, that’s the thing. There is a real sense of entitlement that comes with leaving criticism that just blows my mind. To me, it reads as if the consumer of the art thinks that the creator actually owes them something, even if that something is forcing them to pay attention to the consumer by leaving unhelpful, rude and sometimes even abusive commentary. I strongly disagree with this. Creators are not obligated to their fans. Or as Neil Gaiman once famously put it, “[The Creator] is not your bitch.”

It’s not that big a leap to go from leaving a comment telling a creator that you don’t like something to stalking someone online to making actual threats and/or doxxing them. The anonymity of the internet makes it very easy, in fact. Internet trolls that cross over the line from being an entitled asshole to engaging in actual illegal behavior had to start somewhere. And that start isn’t by reading half a chapter of fic and backing out to find something else they like better or just scrolling past art they don’t like, you know?

Every single time a writer leaves up garbage commentary on their work, they are giving their tacit approval of a reader’s belief that they are entitled to shit all over said work.

It’s not the same when it comes to a professional writer, of course. For one thing, they are being paid for their work. For another, reviews on Goodreads or Amazon or on review sites aren’t about engaging the author in discourse about their work. Authors (unless they are Anne Rice or something, wooo-weee) are not responding to reviews. Reviews are all about readers getting their chance to let other readers know how they felt about the work. Dude, if I am going to be shelling out cold hard cash for a book then I’d like to read some nuanced reviews of it first, for sure. I ignore the stupid troll ones, of course. Most of those get downvoted anyhow because nobody likes a troll but a troll.

That being said…do we leave reviews on AO3 or Tumblr in order to tell other readers how we felt about a writer’s work? No. We do not. We leave comments, because we are engaging in fandom discourse with the writer, someone else who loves the fandom as much as we do.

Reviews and comments are not the same thing, kids. There’s a reason why they are two separate words. There is a reason why AO3 and Tumblr (and fanfiction.net, etc.) very deliberately use the word comments and why Goodreads and Amazon and The National Book Review use the word review. Language matters.

In other words, comments ≠ reviews.

Fanfic is not the same as original published work. Fandom is made up of people who love their particular fandom; fanfic is written by writers that are creating transformative works out of love. (Not that we wouldn’t mind money or anything, but that’s not the end goal.) Two completely separate worlds. Sure, sometimes the lines get blurred - I myself once met a writer at a signing whom I admired and embarrassed the hell out of myself by fangirling all over him. (He was very gracious about it.) But he was there to do a signing, not chitterchat over Tumblr for hours over why it is Bolin can lavabend but not metalbend. Totally different scenario. There are quite a few published writers here on Tumblr who engage with their fans, but they are still not engaging with them over their book reviews, I can tell you that much.

And in any case, who the hell scrolls down on AO3 to read all of the comments before they read the fanfic anyhow? I’m not saying that it couldn’t happen, I’m just saying it’s not the general practice. Not even fanfic readers are using the comments section as a means of deciding whether or not they want to read a fic. People read the tags and the summaries and go by word of mouth when it comes to choosing a fanfic to read. Again - comments section, not a review section!

Some fandom creators can handle critique or criticism and some can’t. Some writers leave up all the shit commentary on their fics and that’s fine. It’s their choice and I’m all about choice! But for me, I’m not going to be any part of teaching a reader on AO3 that they are entitled to shit all over someone’s work just because they don’t understand what the hell the comments section is for. I surely am not going to allow them to think that it is okay to be an asshole in my comments section just because they think it is somehow their god-given right to be one. Freedom of speech does not mean I have to let you take a dump all over my front lawn, you feel me? Go crap all over your own space.

It may not hurt me, a crusty old bitch who could care less if some stranger off the internet is offended by polyamory. But it could hurt and discourage other fanfic writers and anyone who has followed me for any length of time knows how much of a Tumblr Mom I am. I want to encourage new creators. I want to support them as they feel their way about, as they try to improve their work. I try to give as much written support as I can in terms of commenting, reblogging, etc. But I also want them to understand that they are not under any obligation to deal with the haters. Comments are not meant to be reviews; they sure as hell are not meant to be criticism. Leaving up hate on my own work does not get that message across to either the haters or the creators who are having to deal with that hate, as far as I am concerned. And that’s why I won’t do it.

#administrative post #suicide cw #trolls #abuse cw #anonymous

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eulogy34-blog · 5 years

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