I LOVE THIS MEME

[misachan]

From musesfool:

Pick any passage of 500 words or less from any story I've written, and comment to this post with that selection. I will then give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what's going on in the character's heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the fic, lots of awful puns, and anything else that you’d expect to find on a DVD commentary track.

But probably not so much with the puns, since punning is not one of my dubious talents.

Story index here. Which I should probably update. Huh. Will do so now. Done!

Comments

meme

[robynize.livejournal.com]

I always love this fic, read and re read again and again. If I am over the 500 words, ack, sorry!
I love the ending scene here. Cas's resignation that all path's end in destruction. Dean's epiphany, and how he figured out the weapon and a way out!!! I so adore your work :-)


I know the path I've chosen. I don't expect any ending other than destruction."

"Bullshit. That's giving up."

"It's reality." He stared off into the mist. "I've done so many things you're not aware of yet. I know the price I'll pay."

"All the more reason to knock it off now, Cas. Before you hit that point of no return."

Castiel actually laughed, a bitter, hopeless sound. "I passed that point so long ago I'll never find it again."

Dean didn't know why, but the past year had come to a sudden, desperate head. "Find a different way. God knows there's no shortage here."

"There is no other. Not for me. This is the path I'm on, Dean."

Dean grabbed Castiel by his coat and dragged him backward off the path and into the dense underbrush; Cas cried out when they crossed that threshold and Dean also felt a quick surge of pain, like a hard punch to the chest. "There. Now it's not." Dean was done with walking. He was done with destiny, with prophecy, with the no-win situation that had been the thirty odd years of his life so far. He was done with denying what it meant when he saw time after time that an angel's worst nightmares all centered around Dean Winchester.

You really don't know? echoed through his mind again. He wrapped one arm around Castiel's waist to hold him up. "You should've let Raphael burn me back there," Dean whispered into his ear. "Would've prevented everything. Saved yourself a lot of trouble."

Castiel shook his head. "I couldn't."

Dean remembered the mocking, desperate eyes of that other Cas, the one he'd let slowly break and drown until there was only the shell left. He was done with that, too. Castiel had claimed Dean was good at defying expectations but when Dean kissed him under those ghostly trees he felt like the only surprising thing about it was that it had taken so long to happen. Dean felt a tight weight slip from him, almost like how he'd always imagined it felt for a shifter to slip its skin. He wondered if that was all those possible worlds where he'd never had the guts to do this falling away. All he could muster for those other Deans was pity. "I'm not gonna let you burn either, Cas." He trailed the pad of his thumb along Cas' jawline before kissing him again and this time Castiel returned the kiss, a hard, breathless, desperate kiss as if all Castiel wanted to do was crawl inside Dean. Dean didn't know what the hell had been wrong with them all this time.

Meme

[rinnus.livejournal.com]

One of my absolute favourites,an emotional rollercoaster.
I was going from shocked to depressed,then melting and happy
and a little bit unhappy,cause it ended to soon...
Harsh words

"Dumb son of a bitch," he whispered, the empty coat a heavy weight on his arm.

From the corner of the room came a very, very faint sound. "...Dean?"

Dean jumped up from the floor like a shot. He crossed the room and felt his legs almost give out when he found Castiel huddled and shivering in the corner, his suit soaked through with blood.

He looked up at Dean, somehow mustering the energy to look reproachful. "You...you were gone a very long time."

"Holy shit." He dropped to his knees, taking off his flannel overshirt and pressing it against the stab wound . "Holy shit, Cas, I thought you were dead."

"I lost my phone," he said as Dean helped him sit against the wall, as if that was vitally important information Dean needed to know. His skin was pale and clammy and his eyes huge, staring at Dean with a vaguely dazed expression. "I can't find it."

"Shh, shh," Dean said. "Don't worry about that. I'll get you a better one." He kept his voice very calm; if a lifetime of hunting was good for anything, it was learning how to talk someone through shock. "Just relax."

Cas nodded. "He stole my coat," he said in a very small voice, as if he still couldn't believe that had happened.

"Yeah, I know, but I got it back for you," Dean said, showing him the trenchcoat still draped over his arm. "See? Safe and sound."

He reached out to touch the fabric, his hand shaking. "Oh. Thank you." His brow furrowed as he tried to piece together information. "You...met Ambriel," he worked out slowly.

"That his name? Yeah, we met him, the smirking son of a bitch."

"Did you...." He shuddered, one arm cradling against his chest as the other fumbled for Dean's shoulder.

"Steady, steady, Cas, stay with me here." Dean pressed his hand against the side of his neck, stroked his thumb along his jaw. "Relax, you gotta relax. I know it hurts. And yeah, we took care of him. He's not going to come after you again, promise." Dean remembered blood dripping from the tip of Ambriel's sword. "God, Cas," he whispered. "He said he'd put that sword through your heart. He said you were dead."

He shook his head. "Only wounded me. Didn't...stay to be sure." His lips twitched up. "Ambriel was...was always careless."

"Yeah, lucky for us."

"Happened...so fast. Forgot he was fast." Dean felt him draw in a pained, shaking breath. "Re...regretted our quarrel. I spoke rashly. I....Dean...."

Meme

[sirenshaper.livejournal.com]

I really would love a commentary on this passage from "Torn." In my opinion it's the most haunting, chilling thing you've ever written. Thanks! :)

That they'd broken his faith was worse than what they'd done to his body. Dean thought back over the past two weeks, thought over his dreams. Of course he'd dreamed of Hell, of knives and pain and blood, he always did, but had any of those dreams been out of the ordinary? More vivid than normal? How many of those dreams had been Cas reaching for him and Dean not understanding?

Help me.

Dean supposed in the end it didn't matter. In a way, the prayers had worked; Cas was safe now, and Dean was going to make sure he stayed that way --- starting with Threat #1 right in front of him. "You still curious about why you got summoned?" Dean crouched back down. "You and me are gonna send a message to all of your asshole brothers and sisters. They need to know how this war's gonna go from here on out."

Josiah blinked in confusion. "The war is over," he said, as if Dean had just told him the sky was orange.

"You wanted the war over, you shouldn't have left Cas breathing. And you shouldn't have given me extra incentive to see you bastards bleed." He showed off his blade, letting it catch the light. "Bought this knife at a yard sale a couple of years ago. Told Sam I just thought it looked cool, but the truth is I used to have one just like it. Somehow I knew it would come in handy." He looked at the angel, who was looking distinctly more nervous than a few minutes before. "You might not have noticed yet, but your mojo's disrupted while you're in there," he said, gesturing at the sigils lining the outside of the circle. Sam had walked up, a cruel smile of anticipation on his face. "Now I know one of you bastards is a bit of a fan --- and really, with this face who wouldn't be --- but I think some of you up there have forgotten why Michael was so hot to jump my bones in the first place."

Josiah's eyes darted between Dean and Sam. "You're the Righteous Man."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, but what made me the Righteous Man, huh? You remember?" He let out a patient sigh. "The reason I was supposed to say yes to Michael was that I'd already said yes to someone else."

Understanding dawned in the angel's eyes. "You don't dare. Such an act would blacken your soul...."

"Yeah, before you finish that I've already killed one of you bastards, or didn't you notice Zachariah's been a no show at the Heaven office parties. And my brother's soul can't come to the phone right now, so there's not much blackening that can happen there." Dean smiled, grim and feral. "You shouldn't have put your hands on him." He stepped into the ring.

Josiah screamed more than once. Much more than once.

It turned out the hardest part was getting the wings to show. He was surprised at how deceptively delicate they were. Almost fragile.

Dean remembered being a happy little boy, chasing down butterflies.

[grasshopr-molly.livejournal.com]

From "Gone Too Long":

"You should see the look on your face. I forgot what it was like when you gave a shit." He looked back up at the sky, rain plastering his hair back and flowing down his face in rivulets. "How long do you have here before Zachariah decides you've learned your lesson?"

"Three days. Well, three then, more like one and a half now."

Cas took a long pull from the vodka bottle beside him. "Do me a favor then?"

Dean blinked. "Sure. Shoot."

"When you meet back up with the other me, I need you to give him a message." Dean nodded, ready to remember whatever prophecy or wisdom Cas wanted him to take back to the past.

So Dean was entirely unprepared for Cas to lunge forward and kiss him. When on pure instinct he opened his mouth to the kiss Cas shuddered and pressed closer, his hands cold and trembling to the point that Dean pressed his own over them. Cas finally pulled back like someone had a gun to his head, breaking the kiss with a desperate little whimper that gave Dean the horrible impression that Cas was about to cry. "Just..." he started, his voice cracking before he cleared his throat and got back under control. "Tell him not to wait so damn long to do that this time around."

Dean would have sworn on everything he'd ever loved that he'd had no idea it would have even occurred to Castiel to want to do this. And then in an instant it seemed ludicrous that he couldn't have known; so many things fell into place that Dean felt like an idiot for not realizing it before. "Cas...."

"I wanted you to kiss me that night before we faced Raphael," Cas said, his voice shaking and fragile. "Do you remember, Dean?" Dean flashed back to laughing his ass off outside that brothel, clapping one arm around Cas' shoulders. He remembered Cas had smiled at him and Dean didn't understand why he hadn't grabbed Cas by that stupid coat of his and kissed him then and there. "Why didn't you kiss me then?"

Dean shushed him gently, brushing his sodden hair out of his eyes. "I'm sorry, man," Dean whispered, pressing a light kiss to his lips. "I didn't know, Cas, swear to God I didn't." Cas shivered and Dean pulled him closer, running his hands over Cas' bare arms to try to warm him up. "I didn't know," he repeated before before kissing him again, long and slow and deep this time. Cas opened to the kiss like a drowning man finding a breath of air, his hands in Dean's hair and trying to get under his clothes; Dean tasted rain and booze and the bitter tang of pills.

"I missed you," Cas whispered between breaths. "I missed this and I missed you. I wish you were still you." Dean made soothing sounds as Cas shook against him; he slid one hand past Cas' waistband and over his too-sharp hipbone, wondering if Cas had always been this thin under all those clothes.