women pay attention

I’d love to see people sharing posts about prayers for Manchester and the like the way they do for attacks on larger cities such as London, Paris, Berlin, New York, etc. I don’t think people are fully comprehending what a major event this is. Manchester is the second largest city in the U.K. after London, the last major attack on the city was the 1996 IRA bombing, over 20 years ago. This is on par with the 2005 London Underground attack. 22 people died. It was a soft target. It was a concert. It targeted women and children. Please pay attention to this and what has happened. I lived in Manchester, I had a life there, I have friends there, so I am very personally invested in this, but I want everyone to care about what has happened. I want them to actually care. Take a few moments out of your day to think of these people who lost their lives, these children, simply because they wanted to go to a concert.

I love dystopian stories. I love them (in part) because any story about the end of humanity is always a story about why humanity is worth saving, even when it is at it’s worst. But the other reason I love dystopian stories is that a dystopian story is always a confession of awareness and a call to action. 

Nothing is new under the sun and that includes our worst nightmares. What makes dystopias scary is that they have already happened somewhere, or are already happening. For me, dystopian fiction has never been about “what if?” but “what are you going to do about it now that you know?”

The Handmaid’s Tale is already a reality for women of color. Fahrenheit 451 is an exploration of aspects of Stalin/Hitler’s rule. There is little to no difference between western socio-political landscapes and the ones portrayed in Children Of Men, The Hunger Games, etc.

I have seen a lot of liberal articles claiming with some degree of resigned smugness that The Handmaid’s Tale is already a reality in a tone that suggests this revalation is the point of that story. As if Margret Atwood unknowingly wrote about things that were already happening. Get a grip, people.

Atwood knew exactly what she was writing about. She knew that unethical illegal surrogacy practices were already rampant in non-western countries. But I’ll wager that she also knew that white women don’t pay attention to the struggles of non-western women unless they share that struggle.

A piece of Dystopian Fiction is not primarily written as a cautionary tale. You cannot warn people of something that is already happening. Dystopian fiction is almost always a call to action to help those that are already suffering and if you are so naive to think that dystopian fiction is ONLY cautionary then you haven’t been paying attention, have you? But now you know, so what are you going to do?

anonymous asked:

where exactly is it said ancient celts were ok with homosexuality?

Well, if you want to get into the grit of it, we have two particular records from historians. According to Diodorus Siculus, Celtic men had sexual relations with one another, favored equality in their relationships and were not preoccupied with beauty or age.[1] Also we have Athenaeus’ account further confirming homosexuality as commonplace. [2] You can always take historical records with a pinch of salt of course, but I would say given the Celts’ belief in animism, reincarnation, equality, and worship of nature, the diversity of sexual orientation must have been an equally natural aspect of their lives.

[1] “The oddest part about the whole business is that young men don’t care at all about appearance and will gladly give their bodies to anyone.” - Diodorus

[1b] “They [the Celts] have good-looking women but pay no attention to them - rather they weave around other males in a strange frenzy. They are accustomed to sleeping on the ground upon hides of wild beasts and wallow together with partners on both sides for fucking. And most paradoxically, heedless of their own dignity, they give up their well-satisfied bodies to the harvest of other men, and they do not regard this as a disgrace; rather the opposite - whenever their freely-offered gift of sexual gratification is not received favorably, they regard it a dishonor.” - Diodorus Siculus (Bibliotheke historike, V.32.7)

[2] “And among barbarians the Celts also, though they have very beautiful women, enjoy boys more: so that some of them often have two lovers to sleep with on their beds of animal skins.” - Athenaeus (Deipnosophistae, 603a)

I want a movie about 2 older lesbian/bisexual couples that after their children leave home move to a new place on the beach in Cape Cod and become fast friends. I want this movie to star the following actresses:

Jayne Atkinson(aka Catherine Durant on House of Cards)

Glenn Close(aka Patty Hewes on Damages)

Emma Thompson:(aka P.L Travers in Saving Mr. Banks)

Catherine Russell (aka Serena Campbell on Holby City)

Does anyone know anybody that can make this happen?? Bueller? Bueller?

Stop making moodboards and aesthetic posts that don’t have a single woman of color in them. 

Stop saying things such as “only true lesbians/bisexual women are fans of shows like The X Files or fans of white female celebrities like Gillian Anderson or Alycia Debnam Carey”. 

Stop expecting lesbian, pansexual, bisexual, and queer women of color to consume the same media you as white women-loving women do. Stop expecting them to put up with white-dominated wlw spaces and wlw content. Stop being deliberately or unconsciously exclusive when you write humorous posts or community-centered posts. 

Any wlw space that is racist is exclusive and unsafe. Not every wlw is white. Women of color who are also lesbian, pansexual, queer, or bisexual are subject to the intersections of white supremacy and homophobia, particularly if they are black and/or trans. Stop fawning over racist media and racist celebrities in the name of “representation”. Stop upholding white wlw characters over women-loving female characters of color. 

Stop mourning white wlw characters while simultaneously praising the brutal deaths of black lesbians and other sapphic woc characters. Stop forgetting that immigrant wlw, wlw who are refugees and who are fleeing war and persecution, and wlw who have not grown up with Eurocentric cultural norms will adhere to the same things white wlw adhere to. 

Stop prioritizing media representation over the safety and wellbeing of the most marginalized members of the wlw community, aka women of color. Start paying attention to them. Frankly, wlw spaces that are racist, antiblack, and imperialistic are useless and serve no purpose in healing, solidarity, or community building. 

anonymous asked:

Hello! I was wondering if you could explain how the you felt about Belle's dress in Bath? I'm no clothes person designer person and I just couldn't bring myself to like it, to me it looked really out of place? But you felt it was justified under the context of the film? How so? I'm really curious to hear your thoughts, and really any person who does costuming, on the 2017 Belle dress. I hope that doesn't sound impertinent of me. I just really admire your skills and your opinions about costume!

Hey there! Super not impertinent at all! I appreciate you being interested in my thoughts at all! Highlighting the important bits for anyone who wants to skim. 

So… I still kind of hate the dress. In a movie that went fairly authentic and paid a lot of attention to period and accuracy for literally every other costume, it seems a shame that they followed the actress’ opinions on how it should be structured. As numerous other people have said, a properly fitted and worn corset is not restrictive, but supportive. As a costumer, I would have loved to see a gown that elevated the period style and reflected the animated look much more. There was so much potential for a truly showstopping gown. 

I understand Emma’s choice and insistence on no corset, though - given that she is a small woman and considering all the flack the Cinderella movie and lead caught for looking impossibly small in a corset, I can understand Emma’s desire to forego it all together. Especially since it is a given that young girls and women would pay/are paying attention to how she looked in this Disney film. It’s a two-edge sword: either you’re crucified for presenting unrealistic body-standards to impressionable young women, or you’re crucified for not being historical or true to the animated look. 

Since they chose to follow Emma’s wishes, they then justified that choice within the context of the movie. I don’t think I’m giving anything away by saying that they chose to make Belle a woman out of her time. There are plenty of moments where either by her action or dialogue from or about her, the movie makes plain that Belle is ahead of her time. So when the time comes for a dress to be created for her, it is justified that it is a modern looking gown. They are painting her as a modern feminist trapped in a more restrictive time (you can make your own judgments about whether or not they are successful in this characterization). Belle’s modern sensibilities are reflected in the modernness of her gown. 

In this context, the gown is fairly successful. I appreciate the movement of the dress while in motion - which was especially helped by the lightness of the fabric and the plentiful petticoats underneath. The petticoats really helped give it a bit more of a historical silhouette and movement. Not enough to be considered historically accurate by any stretch, but enough to help connect it to the rest of the films costuming. It was kind of a cousin, though not a full sibling of the other costumes in the film. I was also a bit disappointed by the construction of the gown. Actual embroidered details rather than glued on sparkles would have helped elevate the gown. 

So all that to say, I still don’t love it… I think they really missed an opportunity to make something incredible, but considering the choices they made, I do think the dress was justified, although it was still not as beautifully done as it could have been within the restraints given. 

elriviel  asked:

Hi Neo! I really enjoyed your last heacanons! :D Could you please do hc about the guys (including Leiftan) asking for attention from guardienne?

Hey Elriviel! I’m glad you enjoyed my previous headcanons! ^.^

And thanks for including Leiftan! I love this shady guy and there’s hardly any requests for him (4 for Leif, 13 for the other guys) so I was pretty stoked about writing this!

I hope you enjoy the headcanons!


  • Nevra is used to women paying him attention with minimal effort.
  • So he’s a little bemused when you don’t.
  • He tries to tempt you into spending some time with him, but there’s little difference between alluring Nevra and normal Nevra so he fails epically.
  • It’s frustrating for him, but he keeps trying until you notice he’s being more persistent than usual.
  • He still has to say it though.
  • When he finally admits he wants attention, he’s surprised he gets it so quickly. With copious amounts of teasing of course
  • He’s quick to monopolize your attention with passionate kisses, hugs and general sweetness ‘til there’s nothing but him on your mind.


  • Ezarel has never really needed anyone’s attention other than his own so wanting the attention of another person is a bit confusing for him.
  • He’s unused to trying to get attention and gets a little restless when he goes to see you.
  • Unlike Nevra, who tries and fails to be subtle, Ez is upfront about wanting to spend time with you.
  • It’s super embarrassing for him to admit it but he’s willing to go through a little embarrassment to get your attention.
  • He really wishes he didn’t blush so brightly though
  • When you do spend time together, he teases you relentlessly as ‘payback’ for making him blush so hard. Any protests from your side and silenced swiftly with a kiss.


  • When Valkyon wants affection, he just asks.
  • The man’s like stone pillar when he does.
  • No red face, no stuttering, he might as well be asking you to pass him the salt!
  • But don’t be fooled.
  • He’s nervous.
  • Super nervous.
  • He doesn’t like being a bother, and thinks asking you to spend time with him is a little selfish.
  • But he asks anyway, figuring the reward is more than worth the risk.
  • Whenever you agree, he lights up like the sun.
  • Seriously, his smile is blinding. And contagious.
  • He’ll always spoil you once he’s got your attention, always finding different ways of showing his appreciation. He prefers the classic: hugs and kisses


  • Leiftan wants your attention whenever he can get it.
  • He loves showering you with compliments before suggesting you join him for a walk.
  • Or rather, he’d love to.
  • Unfortunately, due to the nature of his work, he doesn’t know when he’ll be called away and can’t waste time with pretty words. He wants to spend as much time as possible with you after all.
  • So he’s blunt, almost embarrassingly so, about wanting to spend time with you.
  • Your ‘yes’ always makes him smile.
  • He’s always a gentleman when you give him attention, and makes sure you feel loved and appreciated when you’re together.

god knows it’d be free + easy to talk about the problematic treatment of gay dudes in fandom circles Without acting like the root of the injustice is dumb untrustworthy fetishizing women paying more attention to lesbophobia :( but god knows that men are eerily incapable of speaking for themselves without going 4 miles out of their way to talk over & trivialize the experience of misogyny for no goddamn reason

You Don’t Have To Be Grateful For Creeps

It started as a calm Saturday morning, that warm moment in bed before me and my boyfriend put our glasses on, both of us squinting groggily at iPhones held inches from our faces. It’s become part of the modern wake up routine. Open my eyes, stretch a little, take out my mouth guard, check my phone for social media notifications.

I’m very active on several social media platforms - Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter - so I always wake up to a slew of comments, messages and likes. This particular morning, however, I noticed that most of my Instagram notifications were from the same person, some guy I didn’t know. I kept scrolling, becoming increasingly unnerved.

“Ugh.” I said.

“What’s up?” my boyfriend asked.

I handed him my phone. He blanched as he scrolled through. This guy had liked so many of my photos on Instagram that pages and pages of my notifications feed were just him - a small icon (his face) and the words “so and so liked your photo”. As we looked at the screen, the notifications that he was liking my photos were still pouring in.

This was disconcerting, so I left my phone in the hallway while we got ready for the day. After I showered, I poked my damp head out of the bathroom to check it. It was sitting on my boyfriend’s bureau, lighting up with notifications every few seconds. All from this same guy. Now I was freaked out. I felt the beginning of an anxiety attack swooping down upon me like a seagull who’s spotted an errant Cheeto. In a show of 21st century gallantry, my boyfriend picked my phone up, opened Instagram and blocked this dude.

This isn’t a rare occurrence. As someone who is a creator and puts a lot of her life on the internet, things like this happen fairly often. When I complain about it, people are usually confused. Doesn’t that make sense? they ask. You’re making yourself available for liking and commenting and messaging. Why is it a surprise when people are doing it? Shouldn’t you be grateful for the traffic, the attention?

Well, sure. I love social media. I really enjoy connecting with people online. I can pick up my phone and see my best friends liking a video of my new dye job on Facebook, see followers commenting on a photo of the book I’m reading on Instagram with how much they liked it, see fans tweeting at me their excitement for my upcoming film on Twitter, hear from strangers on Tumblr say how much they appreciated and related to my last blog post. That’s pretty magical. It can be a shower of positivity.

It can be.

I look at my social media like a garden in front of my house. I like making it interesting and cool to look at. I appreciate when folks walk by and smile, or say “Hey, cool garden!”. Thanks! How nice!

But what if you woke up, looked out the window and some random guy was standing in front of your garden, screaming I LIKE YOUR GARDEN over and over? What if you found out he had been there all night? What if he didn’t leave?

He’s not doing anything violent. He’s not stomping on your flowers. He’s not slicing branches of your hedges. He’s complimenting you, right?

He’s also making himself known. He’s taking the time to make sure you’re aware that he likes your garden. He’s interrupting benevolent passersby who’d like to compliment your garden and shouting over them for hours straight so that in order to hear them, you’ve got to hear him, too.

I’m not against looking at people’s internet gardens. There are two kinds of people in this world - folks who stalk those they’re interested in online, and liars. I do it all the time. I’ll find a writer whose work I love on Twitter and read months of their tweets. I’ll find a lady whose fashion sense I admire on Instagram and look at a bunch of pictures of her outfits. When I met my boyfriend, of course I looked him up so I could find pictures of his handsome, scruffy mug.

But making sure people know you’re doing it is unnerving.

It’s unnerving because it’s invasive. It’s invasive to my mental landscape, to my notifications feed, to my time. Just block them, people insist. It’s invasive because blocking people takes time out of my day. What if that person is so determined that they’ll make a new account? This has happened to me countless times. It’s invasive because it forces me to ask, what do you want? Being willfully invasive to someone’s life is what being a creep is. Why should anyone be thankful for that?

People want attention, they want to be seen, they want to interact. I understand that. That’s what the glory of the internet is all about.

I’m a writer and a filmmaker. Building my platform on the internet is something that’s important to me. Reaching more fans and collaborators is a priority. I appreciate every person who reads my writing, sends me Twin Peaks articles on Twitter and likes my book posts on Instagram. But I’m allowed to feel both grateful that people are taking the time to interact with me online and uncomfortable if I think someone is showing me an excessive amount of attention. Because it’s still my fucking platform. If I want you to get off because you’re being a creep, that’s my right. I get to decide.

Oh, but what if they just didn’t realize they were being creepy? Okay. Bummer, man. I don’t know you, you sent me 15 messages on Instagram about how much you liked my hair and I blocked you and now you’re confused. Figure it out. It’s not anyone’s job to teach you how to not be a creep. The onus is on you to behave in a manner that does not make people uncomfortable. This is how civilization works. You’re a grown person.

Women especially pay close attention to this stuff. Because often, that guy screaming in the garden starts leaving messages in the mailbox. He’ll start getting angry because you aren’t responding. He’ll start trying to peek into the windows.

You might feel disappointed and upset that I didn’t respond to you, or I blocked you. You didn’t mean to freak me out. But you’re not realizing your behavior is the same as the guy who liked 80 of my tweets and then DMed me a picture of his dick, or the guy that screenshotted scores of my Snaps and then tried to get my address.

So, no. No one should be grateful that they’re getting freaked out by a person obsessing over them online. This is the same mentality that says that catcalling is a compliment. People have the right to exist in public places comfortably, without excessive, unsolicited, unrequited attention. Being harassed or creeped out isn’t the price anyone should have to pay to be on social media, let alone something to be thankful for. Why should you be happy about something that makes you uncomfortable?

When someone likes an Instagram photo, they’re not stuffing a quarter into a pinball machine. We’re human beings, not attention arcades.

Originally posted by rorschachabrax

Self-consciousness is a learned thing.

It usually starts when you’re very young—a figure of authority or someone whom you love and respect telling you not to do this, or that things are done like that. Those notions are then solidified and tweaked and nurtured by the media you consume: television shows, advertisements, news, books, toys… everything has an effect on how you see the world. Objectively, Castiel knows this. Objectively, he’s aware he’s being ridiculous.

But with the door locked, standing barefoot and nude in front of the bathroom mirror, that objectivity is worth about as much as dust mite. That is to say: nothing.

Honestly, Cas doesn’t even know where these insecurities are coming from. They’re not leftover from Jimmy because there hasn’t been a Jimmy for years, and Dean and Sam have been nothing if not supportive in Castiel’s fumbled attempts at humanity, and. And everything’s been fine. It’s been…

Frowning, Cas looks down at his chest and brushes over the beauty mark above his nipple. Asymmetrical. Blue eyes flick up to meet blue in the mirror: his left is not the same as his right. Castiel touches his hair and rubs at his scruffy jaw and bites his lip. He traces a finger down his visible hipbone and cringes. Humans enjoy symmetry. Perfection. Things that are not too much or too little but just right. Cas has read magazine articles featuring beautifully shaped people—he’s seen attractive, perfect-looking bodies populate his Netflix and be sold to him on billboards. The women he pays less attention to, but the men…

Cas clenches his jaw.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Idk if you still do the MM AU thing, f you do could you do one with all the characters and what country they would rep in YOI?

um….ok i like did all of this and idk if this is what you wanted but i tried


  • PICHIT (Thailand!!)
  • precious, adorable, my sonsbands
  • deserves protection
  • i love them both so much
  • yoosung accusing Seven of loving MC and Pichit accusing Yuuri and Viktor of being MARRIED

Originally posted by karasunowings


  • ITS J.J. STYLE (Canada!!)
  • everyone sees a narcissistic jerk
  • but inside he is hard working and soft
  • and he just works so, so hard
  • handsome 
  • only dances to songs with his name in them

Originally posted by miidoriyas


  • Mila Babicheva (Russia!!!!)
  • beautiful
  • mistreated
  • deserves more screen time
  • i am in love

Originally posted by dazaiosamu-s


  • Seung Gil Lee (SOUTH KOREA!!)
  • lets play a game. is this the wikipedia description for Jumin Han or Seung Gil Lee?
  • “a stoic and calculating young man. He is generally emotionless. Due to his handsome looks, he’s very popular, especially with women, but pays no attention to his fans and often treats other people in a cold, detached manner”
  • am i right or am i right
  • i bet Seung Gil Lee is secretly soft too

Originally posted by soul-angelos


  • “mom! the assignments!”
  • “crap, crap, crap!”

Originally posted by sansan9


  • Viktor (Russia)
  • they arent really alike but my hands are tied here
  • same haircut
  • i love them both so much
  • beautiful
  • old men

Originally posted by ffsillkms


  • the epitome of angst
  • everyone get away from me
  • you all suck
  • when he smiles everyone in the world screams
  • [has a lot of feelings]
  • [wants to be loved]

Originally posted by vividlyanime

sorry yuuri

anonymous asked:

Where has Pence been during the Comey mess? Nowhere I can see. Comments about the "investigation"? Crickets. Know what I think? Pence the Pure is taking notes & gathering a dossier on why Congress should invoke the 25th. Trump out, Pence in. Which is what he's wanted all along & so does half of Congress. BUT Pence is even more of a danger than FerretWig b/c he actually knows how government works. He HATES women & loves Russia. Pay close attention to the man behind the curtain.

Oh, preach! I’m hoping he gets caught up in this mess, too. But I’m kinda hoping the impeachment doesn’t happen till after the midterm elections. Reasons…

A teaser of my newest crossover video! :D I have never really done a proper love triangle before so this will be fun! >:D . It will hopefully be the hottest and steamiest video I have ever made and will most likely be rated 13+ (even though the original idea is 18+). <3 It was also this I was referring to in my latest GIF. They are all aliens after all, so what stops me from giving the ladies some powers?!  . Pitch: The relationship between two lifelong friends is put to the ultimate test when one of them saves a criminal from execution.They could never have predicted that such an innocent act of mercy would throw them both into a complicated world of secrets and betrayal, where the line between love and lust is impossible to see. . And yes, this was totally inspired by my MEP part “Devotion”. X3
Okay, the new Adam Sandler movie on Netflix, “The Ridiculous Six”, is not getting enough discussion about how staggeringly racist and sexist it is. The three Native American female characters are called “Wears No Bra”, “Beaver’s Breath”, and “Smoking Fox”, who is at one point referred to as “Pocha-Hot-Tits”. The degradation of Native American women is fucking astounding. In addition, the Mexican character wears a sombrero and speaks wistfully of “taco trees”. TACO TREES. Can we talk about how fucking awful this movie is, please?
I Found

Song: I Found – Amber Run

Pairing: Castiel x Dean (Destiel)

Summary: Castiel wasn’t meant to feel. He wasn’t supposed to care for the man in front of him. It was forbidden to love a human. Castiel never intended to fall in love with the eldest Winchester. But he found love where it wasn’t supposed to be; right in front of him.

Warning: angst, abuse, very little fluff, flashbacks (in italics)

Words: 2, 807 (got a bit carried away)

A/N: first time writing a Destiel one shot, and I thought I’d use the song I Found by Amber Run only because I currently relate to the song, it means a lot. It also reminded me of Destiel, the song describes them well. Please do excuse any mistakes with grammar, spelling, etc. It is 2am here and I’m tired. If you enjoyed this, I might do a part 2, a sequel .x

Castiel had offered to help research for a case and was currently sitting quietly in the library of the Bunker, reading the book in front of him. The two men were searching every book on the shelves for any clue of what they were hunting; soon rendering useless within the seven hours of countless page flipping and book tossing.

He couldn’t concentrate any longer. Instead, his concentration was soon focused on the freckles that scattered lightly across the cheeks of the elder Winchester’s face. He made it his mission to count every dot spotted on his face, since Dean was currently sitting still, it was easy for him to do so. His gaze flickered from Dean’s cheeks to his nose to his forehead where a few freckles were also scattered.

Too lost in his counting, he didn’t take note in the fact that Dean felt his gaze and was now looking at him. The corners of Dean’s mouth lifted ever so slightly, watching the man in front of him study his face. But soon enough, Castiel dropped his gaze to see Dean’s emerald eyes staring right back at him causing pink to tint his cheeks.

Castiel looked away, too embarrassed to continue to stare. Instead, his focus turned onto Sam, who stood up from his position in the chair on the other side of the room. Sam let out a yawn as he closed the book and looked over towards Castiel and Dean. He held back a smile as he watched Dean stare at the sapphire eyed man; wishing he’d make a move already.

“Are you tired?” The Angel asked kindly. Sam nodded in response, causing Dean to snap out of his trance and look towards his younger brother.

“Yeah, I might head to bed, too,” Dean mumbled, pushing the book away from him. As much as Castiel hated it, he was upset that Dean would be leaving him alone. He knew that Dean was a human, he needed to sleep. But he wanted to spend every waking moment with the green eyed man.

Sam patted Dean’s back and nodded towards Castiel, before retreating towards his bedroom. Dean remained seated, despite agreeing with the younger Winchester. He didn’t want to leave the presence of the Angel sitting right in front of him.

“I should leave so that you can get some sleep,” the words Dean dreaded spilled out of the Angel’s mouth. He didn’t want him to leave. He wanted so badly to drag him to bed with him and seek the warmth the Angel’s body can provide. But he couldn’t do that; he wasn’t supposed to feel this way towards a man.

“Okay,” was all Dean said as he looked at Castiel. They stared at one another for a while longer, before Dean decided it was needed to leave. He stood from his chair and walked towards the hall that lead to his bedroom, only to be stopped by Castiel.

Dean’s heart thumped loudly in his chest as he watched the Angel walk towards him. What is he doing? Any closer and I think my heart might combust, Dean thought. But Castiel kept moving forward and eventually, was toe to toe with the Winchester. He didn’t know what he was doing in front of Dean, but he couldn’t walk away now.

Castiel surprised himself as he pulled Dean into a tight embrace. He could tell that it stunned Dean, considering the late reaction to the hug. But Dean hugged him back, clinging tightly onto the Angel.

“Goodnight,” Castiel whispered in his ear, pressing a light kiss to Dean’s cheek. This time, it was Dean’s cheeks that were tinted pink.

“N-Night Cas,” Dean stuttered, pulling away and attempting to hold back the grin that fought to show. Castiel smiled at him before vanishing into thin air, leaving behind a speechless Dean.


That was all Castiel could see. He couldn’t make out his surroundings; all that was clear to him was that he was chained to a chair and in absolute pain. It left the Angel in confusion, clueless to what happened to him and why he was in agony.

All that he could remember was leaving the Bunker after bidding Dean Goodnight. After that he roamed the streets in hopes to find an open store to find a small gift for the man. He didn’t remember blacking out. He didn’t remember anyone coming up from behind and attacking him. He didn’t remember a single thing and it scared the heck out of him.

Castiel attempted to shift in the chair, only causing more pain to jolt through his body. The sharpest pain remained in his stomach, indicating that he was harmed most there than any other body part. He used all the strength he had left to attempt to heal his body, but his grace failed him and remained wounded.

The sound of a door opening caught Castiel’s attention, listening closely to the footsteps that came closer. All too suddenly, a light turned on above Cas, blinding him temporarily. When his sight recovered, he took in his own appearance, noticing his torn shirt and the deep gashes that littered his stomach. His eyes then flickered towards the figure that stood in front of him, trying to see who his capturer was. But the light that shone only on Castiel didn’t allow enough light to see his surroundings.

“I see you’re awake, finally,” a hoarse male voice spoke, “only took you, what, four days?”

Four days? This caused Castiel’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion. He had been passed out for four days. He didn’t know what to think.

“Who are you?” Castiel’s voice croaked.

The man stepped forward and leaned down towards Castiel, his eyes pitch black with a wicked grin on his face. He started to laugh at Castiel cluelessness, finding pleasure in the weakened Angel sitting beneath him.

“All I’ll say is that one of your brother’s have sent me here,” he patted Castiel’s cheek, causing the Angel to wince in pain.

“What do you want with me?”

Though, before the man could respond, the door slammed opened and a grunt could be heard. There was a sound of a flicker before more lights came on, brightening the room, once again blinding Castiel. When the Angel was able to see, he looked up to see his brother, Jonah, walking closer towards him. It was evident that his brother was here to torture him, probably even kill him, proven by the fact that he held an angel blade.

This made Castiel attempt to sit up straighter, pulling at the chains that held him down. His eyes darted between the blade and his brother’s gaze. He tried his best to remain calm and show that he wasn’t terrified of the two men in front of him. Whatever had he done to deserve such harm?

“Do you know why you’re here, dearest brother?” Jonah asked, pointing the blade at the Angel. Castiel only shook his head in response, knowing his voice would betray him and show fear.

“You’re being punished, Castiel,” Jonah rolled his eyes, sliding his hands through Castiel’s hair and tugging it back. Castiel noticeably winced when the angel blade made gentle contact with the skin on his neck.

The Angel didn’t know what to do. He was useless against the two of them – heck, he was useless in general considering he was in restraints. As of now, he wasn’t concerned about a way to escape; his mind was consumed with the thought of being punished. What for? What have I done? Why is Jonah working with the evil?

“For what?” Castiel gulped, feeling the blade draw down his chest lightly.

He looked up at his brother, seeing nothing but betrayal. Castiel was beginning to welcome any punishment, for it seem less painful than watching his brother, one he trusted most, drag a fatal blade across his chest. He couldn’t understand what he had done to upset his brother.

“For finding love in the wrong place, Castiel,” Jonah replied, “you fell in love with a human.”

And with the words Jonah said, he pierced the blade into Castiel’s skin and dragged it across his chest. A scream left the poor Angel’s mouth, holding back the tears that were bound to fall from the intense pain.

“We, Angels, aren’t meant to feel,” he carried on, dragging the blade back up to his neck, “you had one mission to drag that hopeless man from perdition and instead, you fell in love with him.”

Jonah dragged the blade across his jaw, Castiel whimpering and pleading with his eyes for him to stop. That only egged him on, pressing the blade into his skin and dragging it further across his jaw, reaching his cheek. The sounds of Castiel’s screamed blurred against his own ears.

“You fell in love with a hunter,” he pressed on, his intention to harm Castiel more emotionally than physically, “a hunter that has hunted Angels before.”

Castiel closed his eyes tightly, holding back tears.

“A man who sleeps with multiple women and pays no attention to you,” Jonah whispered into Castiel’s ear. A whimper left Castiel’s lips as the brother who betrayed him dug the blade deep into his chest.

Castiel couldn’t feel the pain the blade brought, though. Instead, he felt pain for the eldest Winchester. He didn’t know what the feeling was, but he didn’t like it one bit. Perhaps this was the heartbreak that Dean had mentioned once before. Maybe this is what Sam felt when he lost Jess. If this is what the famous heartbreak felt like, he didn’t want it anymore. He wished more than anything for the emotional pain to rid itself than the physical.

Castiel’s vision started to blur, black dots appearing out of nowhere. He felt weak. He felt like he was going to die. He wouldn’t mind that. But just as Castiel was about to close his eyes, he heard the door opening again, and faint shouts before everything went black.

“Cas?” Dean questioned, looking at the man he grew fond of.

Castiel turned to look at him, his eyes widening at the sight. In front of him was the man he loved, covered in bruises and gashes, obviously just got back from a hunt. Castiel instantly walked over to the emerald eyed man, placing two fingers to his forehead and watching his wounds heal.

“Why’d you do that?” Dean asked, frowning at his arm that once held a gash.

Castiel studied his reaction, stepping back when he noticed that Dean wasn’t happy with what he did. That made him sigh, looking down and walking over to the bed. He took a seat, glancing at his love, before looking down at the floor.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Castiel mumbled, “It makes me feel some sort of bad emotion. I am not meant to feel emotions.”

Dean stared lovingly at the Angel sitting on his bed. He walked over to him and sat beside him, not being so subtle about his position, pressing his thigh against the Angel’s.

“It’s okay to feel emotion, Cas,” Dean placed his hand on the Angel’s knee, “it means you are alive.”

Castiel turned his head to look at Dean. His gaze went from Dean’s eyes to his lips back to his eyes again. He felt an instinct to just lean forward and kiss the man, but he fought the urge to do so, not wanting to scare the man.

“I’m alive because of you,” Cas admitted. He didn’t mean it in the sense of Dean saving Castiel’s ass multiple times, but in the sense that Dean makes Castiel feel emotions. Dean is making Castiel more so human than he is an Angel. He is making Castiel feel happy.

“Someone has to save your Angel ass, right?” Dean chuckled, squeezing Castiel’s knee before getting up, “now, teleport us to the diner because I’m hungry.”

“Cas!” Dean shouted, rushing over to the man that lay limp in the chair. Panic coursed through his veins as he gazed at the open wounds on Cas’ body. Tears started to build as he took in the appearance of the Angel who won his heart.

He quickly set Cas free of the restraints and kneeled between his legs. He let out a shaky breath as he looked as Castiel’s stomach. He removed his plaid shirt and wrapped it around the Angel’s stomach, in attempt to stop the bleeding.

“Wake up Cas,” He placed Castiel’s head in his hands, leaning his forehead against the Angel’s; “you can’t leave me.”

Sam was shouting in the background, but Dean could not hear him. He was silently praying for God to bring his Angel back to life. He needed his angel. He never got to tell him.

“Please, Castiel,” he pleaded quietly one last time, closing his eyes as tears fell freely, “I love you.”

Dean couldn’t feel the gaze of the Angel’s sapphire eyes. He watched sadly as the love of his life cried for the life of his own. The emotional pain Jonah had put him through was vanished into thin air at the words Dean whispered.

Castiel once saw Dean as a warning sign; not to be mess with humans. ‘Don’t get involved; don’t develop emotions for the humans’ his brothers would always remind him. But he lost his concentration as soon as those emerald eyes caught sight of his sapphire ones. Despite having tried multiple times to rid the emotions that begun to surface, he failed. He had begun to miss Dean more than he did before.

His brothers always told him that he’d lose his mind if he ever caught feelings for a human. But he found that his mind was more at ease when he was with the green eyed man more than his own family. A great man once told Castiel; having emotions isn’t bad, it simply means that you are alive.

Screw heaven. He loves me, back. Castiel thought, causing a faint smile to appear on his face.

“I love you,” he whispered with a hoarse voice.

Dean’s eyes snapped open as he looked into his lover’s eyes once more. He could see that Cas was holding back his own tears, as Castiel weakly reached up to lay his hand on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean ignored the fact that his brother was in the same room as him, and instead, came to terms with the fact that he was attracted to men as well.

He couldn’t hold back anymore, pulling Castiel’s face towards his own and kissing him with all that he had. Castiel melted straight in the kiss, wincing when he tried to pull him closer. Every second they wasted on not making the move was put into this one kiss; all the passion that burned for each other.

“About time,” Sam mumbled to himself, wiping the blood off his face, before heading back to the car to give them some privacy.

Castiel pulled back to catch his breath, gazing at Dean with love evident in his eyes. He was soon pulled back into reality when he tried to sit up, letting out a loud cry in pain. His grace wasn’t strong enough to heal his wounds; he had been tortured too much for that. He had to wait a couple of days until his grace restored itself, so he could heal himself completely.

“Why’d they torture you?” Dean asked quietly, placing his arm under Castiel’s knees and the other across his back. Cas winced when Dean picked him up, the pain being unbearable. He closed his eyes tightly, praying the pain would subside.

Castiel tried to focus on the man carrying him instead. Focusing on his question, he tried to find the right words to explain why they did that. His heart broke at the sight of Dean’s face, sadness devoured both men.

“I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be, right in front of me, and he was trying to talk some sense to me.”

A/N: fuck knows it that was good enough, but i cried a little.