When The Calf Walked Out

“But I like you. You’re nice. I don’t want to be–” Jonathan fell silent, thinking of how he’d been punished for whining. He began to shudder, teeth chattering at the sudden, horrible cold he felt. Everywhere was dark, and wet, and bone-chillingly cold. 

Castiel’s face shifted in Jonathan’s vision as the other man stood, the visage before him now tooth-filled and cruel. Jonathan’s face went pale, eye wide in horror as he stared at Castiel, the thing that was Castiel and yet was not. He couldn’t move–he’d been tricked. Castiel said he would heal him, but he wasn’t going to heal him at all. He was going to cut Jonathan up and eat him, burn him or smash him. Healing couldn’t exist for him. And there were so many teeth…

No, he was there. Castiel was there, safe and kind. He kissed Jonathan, as sweetly as though Jonathan was the dearest person to him in the world.

“I won’t be scared.” Jonathan whispered. “Promise.”

He felt safe and warm as Castiel laid his hands on him. As though nothing horrible had happened. As if Jonathan was curled up tight in bed, not hurting at all, just happily dozing in the sunlight. It smelled nice, too. Everything was okay. Jonathan could just rest, and have breakfast later.

He barely heard Castiel drop to the floor.

@heavenly-soldier

When Castiel fell to the floor, he started shaking softly. His eyes pinned in the ceiling, as he tried to focus into healing himself, and not the voices that started overwhelming him. Like Jesus and main Saints did, humans have the power to do miracles. What they need is to know how to manage their soul, and use it as power. Like Castiel did. Castiel knew more than anyone how to use his soul to heal. But he wasn’t an angel anymore. What he did took all his strength.

He hoped Jonathan’s eye was healed, or at least the man could think clearly now, not see visions. That’s where he focused. He focused on healing him mentally and emotionally. Close deep wounds that seemed to affect the man really bad.

As he was shaking on the floor, choking, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. He needed to calm down and then let himself rest, let his soul heal properly. Once he calmed down, he took a few shaky breaths and called his name. “Jonathan?” he asked sitting up with difficulty. In any minute he would pass out. “Do you feel any… Different?” he mumbled, his eyes glowing still.

Jonathan blinked. He felt better. His leg hurt less, and his chest and arms didn’t feel stiff at all. And--and he could see how far away Castiel was. Dimly. Very dimly, he could, like a wing fluttering at the edge of his vision, signaling him. Castiel’s eyes were glowing, but Jonathan didn’t feel afraid. Just safe as could be. Loved, even. And heavier, somehow. A little off-balance, but the buried memory of that feeling was so sudden to remember that it practically hurt. 

“I feel so wonderful...you helped. You healed all the bad scratches. I can breathe easier, too--you fixed my lungs! It feels so good. You feel good. And my leg doesn’t pound so. It’s like having a weight taken off--”

Jonathan looked at Castiel, suddenly uncertain. “I do feel different. But you’re hurting now. I don’t want you to hurt so...” 

 It was as though the angel had uncovered something Jonathan didn’t want him to know, or had kept a secret out of habit for a very long time.

“How did you know?” he whispered. It wasn’t fear or upset in his voice, it was something sweeter, the same voice of somebody opening a gift that they desperately wanted or needed. How had Castiel known what had happened to him, so long ago, when Jonathan had forced himself to forget? Yet he had known, had given Jonathan what the young man had wanted above all else. 

When The Calf Walked Out

“But I like you. You’re nice. I don’t want to be--” Jonathan fell silent, thinking of how he’d been punished for whining. He began to shudder, teeth chattering at the sudden, horrible cold he felt. Everywhere was dark, and wet, and bone-chillingly cold. 

Castiel’s face shifted in Jonathan’s vision as the other man stood, the visage before him now tooth-filled and cruel. Jonathan’s face went pale, eye wide in horror as he stared at Castiel, the thing that was Castiel and yet was not. He couldn’t move--he’d been tricked. Castiel said he would heal him, but he wasn’t going to heal him at all. He was going to cut Jonathan up and eat him, burn him or smash him. Healing couldn’t exist for him. And there were so many teeth...

No, he was there. Castiel was there, safe and kind. He kissed Jonathan, as sweetly as though Jonathan was the dearest person to him in the world.

“I won’t be scared.” Jonathan whispered. “Promise.”

He felt safe and warm as Castiel laid his hands on him. As though nothing horrible had happened. As if Jonathan was curled up tight in bed, not hurting at all, just happily dozing in the sunlight. It smelled nice, too. Everything was okay. Jonathan could just rest, and have breakfast later.

He barely heard Castiel drop to the floor.

@heavenly-soldier

When The Calf Walked Out

@heavenly-soldier

There were fishes in Jonathan’s room again. They smacked their mouths as they floated over him, darting at his limbs. Their bodies grew larger and larger and paler and paler, turning from yellowish brown to silver. Their spines turned from tough thorn-like protrusions to long, thin needles, poking and scraping his skin. 

“Please don’t. Please don’t. Don’t have more.” Jonathan pleaded, covering his face with his hands. “Go ‘way.” He huddled further under his blankets, drawing them up to his nose. 

“I won’t do it again.”

Castiel couldn’t remember how long he was into the mental institution. It was surely long enough. The leviathans were dead, Sam and Dean visited him, very often, and Meg… Meg was dead. It seemed like he would spend the rest of his life there. Graceless anymore. Dean insisted to take him away from there, but felt like freaking out in the thought of leaving the place that Meg had died. Very rarely Cas had moments that his mind was clear. Dean and Sam were searching for a cure but the former angel knew there wasn’t one.

Dazed from the pills he had taken he started wondering around. He heard a man yelling and couldn’t help but follow the voice and get into his room, tiling his head. He still had that need to help people. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes sir. Just fine. Happy as can be!”  Jonathan yelped, beginning to cry even as he tried to stop from doing so. His good eye stared at Castiel, careful. The fishes were gone from his sight, but he was certain they were still nearby. 

Who Castiel was, exactly, Jonathan wasn’t sure. He must be there to test Jonathan, to see if he was humble, else he would make horrible things fall out of Jonathan’s mouth. No, Jonathan wouldn’t make any trouble, no sir. 

Jonathan would be humble. He would be nice and good and humble and quiet. He would clean everything for the nice man with soft hair, so there was no bad things falling out of his mouth. Maybe he would make the tears into pearls. And then Jonathan could send all the pearls away to feed people.

Unless maybe Castiel was an owl-robot man, from the moon, here to take Jonathan’s other eye to feed his children. 

“Just fine, sir.” Jonathan repeated. “Happy as can be.”

Castiel tilted his head. He sighed as he didn’t know what to do. “Why are you calling me sir?” he asked as he sat next to him. “Your face… Why are you crying?” he asked softly as he swept his tears. All Castiel could see any ore was pain. He was surrounded by pain and he couldn’t handle it. He just wished he still had his powers to heal each and every one of them. He sighed and gave him a soft smile. He felt like his body was on fire but he ignored. He was feeling like his whole body was burning so he pulled a little bit back, not wanting the man to be hurt. He hugged himself and forced a sad smile at him.

“I am sorry you are in pain. I hope I didn’t harm you…” he stuttered and swept his own tears. He was surely feeling calmer with the high dosage of pills they were giving him, but the wounds from the cage were still worse than ever. “You can come to my room. I have some food that I don’t want to eat, and they will force me all to eat it. Are you hungry? You seem really thin…” he whispered.

He himself was really thin, he was barely eating anymore, but he didn’t care. He was a fucking angel. He would survive. And if he didn’t, he would just die. It would be easier than this suffering. “If you come to my room and eat, I may try heal your wounds. If I have any power left in me. But you have to hurry, before he returns. Alright?”

“Because you’re big. You have magic. Of course I call…call you sir. What is your name? My name is Jonathan. What should I call you? You can call me whatever you want.” He smiled a little back at the other man, leaning into his touch. It felt so good to be touched nicely. 

“You don’t hurt. You don’t hurt at all, sir.“ he patted Castiel’s hand, trying to wipe at the other’s tears. “Yes. I would like to eat. But he gets angry if I eat too much. It’s bad for me–” He didn’t want the Monster King to come back. The Monster King told him what he could eat when he came, and was so angry when he disobeyed.

Healing, the nice man said. Jonathan could be healed. All the pain could go away, at least for a little while. His leg wouldn’t throb so, maybe. Or his chest wouldn’t itch and ache by turns. 

“Yes please. Fast as I can.” he took Castiel’s hand, limping forwards. 

Castiel took Jonathan to his room, and offered him his plate of food. “No one will know, alright? And don’t call me sir, please. You can call me Cas.” he forced a small smile and bowed his head a little. He was trying to block the voices. Telling him to stay away or the poor man would die. How… But he didn’t have his powers, how he thought he could help and heal the man? He sighed sadly, sat to his bed and hugged his knees. He hated these voices. He wished he could disappear.

“Do you like cats? I like cats but their won’t let me have one, did you know that a cat ran for mayor in Mexico City at 2013? I am sure it would be a great mayor…” he smiled to himself. “Did you also know that a cat purrs for self-healing?” he said sweetly and giggled a little. “Wish this could work for humans too. But I am not one anyway.” he said and rested his head to his knees.

“Why such a young man is here? You are really really young. I am old. Thousands of years old and I am here because I had to save my friend, but you, why are you here?” he said softly as he looked up at him.

“Cas is a lovely name.” Jonathan said. He was a little unsure of the food, because if he ate it, he might be stuck here forever or turned into something strange. But that was alright. As long as he didn’t touch his face, Jonathan wouldn’t see whatever truth this was, and didn’t want to. 

“Thank you for not telling, Cas. I don’t want him angry. Thank you for the food.” Jonathan said, daring a few careful bites of food. When Cas curled up on the end of the bed, he gave the other man a pat, trying to reassure him. Cas was so nice, offering food. 

“I like cats. Kitties, they’re so soft, and I wish we could have ‘em here, too. I am not so sure if a cat would be a good mayor. They have a very devil-take-the-hindmost view to illness…we could try that, though.” he extended his neck, trying to let out a purring sound. 

“I got hurt.” Jonathan explained awkwardly. “My…friend. He cut out my eye, and he said he could because it was his birthday. I ran away and a car hit me, and it hurt so much but I kept going, and there were monsters. I started seeing monsters everywhere, and so I had to come here. I’m twenty three. Not old at all.” he wanted to know what Cas was, if he could be the man’s friend, too.

“Would you like some of this? I don’t want to be greedy, and it tastes very good.”

Castiel heard the man and sighed. He tried not to cry but he controlled himself. Tears started falling on his face and he had covered himself. “My full name is… Castiel… And… I… Monsters exist… I was turned to one… When the Leviathans were inside me… So many people died because of them, because of me…” he stuttered as he stared at the man. He didn’t want to talk about this further. He swept his tears and shook his head at the man’s offer.

“I am not used to food yet… I am older than anyone. I am older than time himself so I guess I can’t even have birthday parties, which is really sad…” he bowed his head. “Thank you, but I hate food. When I was an angel, I didn’t need to eat. Now it hurts so much eating… And sometimes I can’t eat it… It’s different than it looks…” he said as he sighed sadly, trying to purr himself, hoping that he would be healed soon.

“You look like a good man Jonathan. Monsters exist… So I don’t know if you belong here. I have killed many monsters… And are people that kill monsters out there… Trust me. My two best friends kill monsters. When they come to visit me, I can meet you to them, they are really nice, they always bring me honey, and they always smell like pie and alcohol. That’s why I love them so much, they are really nice…” he said and his sad expression turned to a small nostalgic smile.

“Cast’yel.” Jonathan repeated, blinking hard. “However did a Leviathan get inside you–” he stopped short, thinking for a moment. 

“It’s okay, Castiel. People died because of me, too. My friend, he said I killed these people, made him do it. I didn’t mean to. After that the monsters started coming. Nobody else could see them. I tried to defend my friends, but I was too weak. They didn’t die, though. I was very happy about that.” he nodded in understanding, finally finishing his offered food. 

“There’s a man, he gives me food and medicine, sometimes. But I don’t like him, because he makes the food transform into horrid things and then he taunts and hurts…I hate it. Sometimes he binds my hands down, or worse, and it scares me. He says he’ll stop when I can be normal.”

At Castiel’s description, Jonathan looked miserable. “Are they really nice? I hope they do not smell like alcohol too much. I don’t want to be near alcohol again, if I can help it.” 

Castiel looked at him and smiled softly that the man had eaten the food. He himself couldn’t eat it. It seemed like it had worms. He knew it wasn’t real but another of his mind’s games, so it would be good for someone else to eat it. “This man is not bad. He helps. He seems bad but I can feel he is not. He tied me many many times too. Forced me to eat. But he listens to me when I need to tell him about my stories with my brothers, and my two friends. He is never bored.” he said and sighed.

“No, these two are really good hunters, and they have really good hearts. Maybe that’s why so many werewolves want to eat them” he giggled softly. “I will tell them you be more careful…” he said in a lightheaded tone still.

“If I had my powers, I could have healed you and get you out of here. But since Meg… Since Meg died…” tears rolled down his face. “I ripped my grace for my chest. I couldn’t handle the pain. I ripped my wings. It still hurts so much. I hate that. Now I could have helped you. Will you allow me to help you?” he asked softly.

“Who is this man? Will he help me?” Jonathan asked, pleading. “Is he the same man as who treats me?” he sniffled, moving into Castiel’s side. The other man was saying all sorts of things, things Jonathan could understand, a little, but not enough. 

“I am afraid to leave here, though. I have no money. No friends anymore. No job. Barely graduated college. And my eye scares people. It’s disgusting. There was a woman at the store when I was not here, she thought I would steal things. But I didn’t steal. When I’ve tried to steal, it feels like everybody can see me and know I did a bad thing.” He wanted to be angry at the self-pity of the speech, but couldn’t seem to. It just felt true.

“Yes. Please, Castiel.” Jonathan said, eye shut tight against the world. “If you want to help me, feel free to help, I want as much help as you want to give.” But not to take. He didn’t want Castiel to wear himself out too far. “Please don’t let the werewolves eat me, either. I don’t wanna be eaten. Not right now.”

When The Calf Walked Out

@heavenly-soldier

There were fishes in Jonathan’s room again. They smacked their mouths as they floated over him, darting at his limbs. Their bodies grew larger and larger and paler and paler, turning from yellowish brown to silver. Their spines turned from tough thorn-like protrusions to long, thin needles, poking and scraping his skin. 

“Please don’t. Please don’t. Don’t have more.” Jonathan pleaded, covering his face with his hands. “Go ‘way.” He huddled further under his blankets, drawing them up to his nose. 

“I won’t do it again.”

Castiel couldn’t remember how long he was into the mental institution. It was surely long enough. The leviathans were dead, Sam and Dean visited him, very often, and Meg… Meg was dead. It seemed like he would spend the rest of his life there. Graceless anymore. Dean insisted to take him away from there, but felt like freaking out in the thought of leaving the place that Meg had died. Very rarely Cas had moments that his mind was clear. Dean and Sam were searching for a cure but the former angel knew there wasn’t one.

Dazed from the pills he had taken he started wondering around. He heard a man yelling and couldn’t help but follow the voice and get into his room, tiling his head. He still had that need to help people. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes sir. Just fine. Happy as can be!”  Jonathan yelped, beginning to cry even as he tried to stop from doing so. His good eye stared at Castiel, careful. The fishes were gone from his sight, but he was certain they were still nearby. 

Who Castiel was, exactly, Jonathan wasn’t sure. He must be there to test Jonathan, to see if he was humble, else he would make horrible things fall out of Jonathan’s mouth. No, Jonathan wouldn’t make any trouble, no sir. 

Jonathan would be humble. He would be nice and good and humble and quiet. He would clean everything for the nice man with soft hair, so there was no bad things falling out of his mouth. Maybe he would make the tears into pearls. And then Jonathan could send all the pearls away to feed people.

Unless maybe Castiel was an owl-robot man, from the moon, here to take Jonathan’s other eye to feed his children. 

“Just fine, sir.” Jonathan repeated. “Happy as can be.”

Castiel tilted his head. He sighed as he didn’t know what to do. “Why are you calling me sir?” he asked as he sat next to him. “Your face… Why are you crying?” he asked softly as he swept his tears. All Castiel could see any ore was pain. He was surrounded by pain and he couldn’t handle it. He just wished he still had his powers to heal each and every one of them. He sighed and gave him a soft smile. He felt like his body was on fire but he ignored. He was feeling like his whole body was burning so he pulled a little bit back, not wanting the man to be hurt. He hugged himself and forced a sad smile at him.

“I am sorry you are in pain. I hope I didn’t harm you…” he stuttered and swept his own tears. He was surely feeling calmer with the high dosage of pills they were giving him, but the wounds from the cage were still worse than ever. “You can come to my room. I have some food that I don’t want to eat, and they will force me all to eat it. Are you hungry? You seem really thin…” he whispered.

He himself was really thin, he was barely eating anymore, but he didn’t care. He was a fucking angel. He would survive. And if he didn’t, he would just die. It would be easier than this suffering. “If you come to my room and eat, I may try heal your wounds. If I have any power left in me. But you have to hurry, before he returns. Alright?”

“Because you’re big. You have magic. Of course I call…call you sir. What is your name? My name is Jonathan. What should I call you? You can call me whatever you want.” He smiled a little back at the other man, leaning into his touch. It felt so good to be touched nicely. 

“You don’t hurt. You don’t hurt at all, sir.“ he patted Castiel’s hand, trying to wipe at the other’s tears. “Yes. I would like to eat. But he gets angry if I eat too much. It’s bad for me–” He didn’t want the Monster King to come back. The Monster King told him what he could eat when he came, and was so angry when he disobeyed.

Healing, the nice man said. Jonathan could be healed. All the pain could go away, at least for a little while. His leg wouldn’t throb so, maybe. Or his chest wouldn’t itch and ache by turns. 

“Yes please. Fast as I can.” he took Castiel’s hand, limping forwards. 

Castiel took Jonathan to his room, and offered him his plate of food. “No one will know, alright? And don’t call me sir, please. You can call me Cas.” he forced a small smile and bowed his head a little. He was trying to block the voices. Telling him to stay away or the poor man would die. How… But he didn’t have his powers, how he thought he could help and heal the man? He sighed sadly, sat to his bed and hugged his knees. He hated these voices. He wished he could disappear.

“Do you like cats? I like cats but their won’t let me have one, did you know that a cat ran for mayor in Mexico City at 2013? I am sure it would be a great mayor…” he smiled to himself. “Did you also know that a cat purrs for self-healing?” he said sweetly and giggled a little. “Wish this could work for humans too. But I am not one anyway.” he said and rested his head to his knees.

“Why such a young man is here? You are really really young. I am old. Thousands of years old and I am here because I had to save my friend, but you, why are you here?” he said softly as he looked up at him.

“Cas is a lovely name.” Jonathan said. He was a little unsure of the food, because if he ate it, he might be stuck here forever or turned into something strange. But that was alright. As long as he didn’t touch his face, Jonathan wouldn’t see whatever truth this was, and didn’t want to. 

“Thank you for not telling, Cas. I don’t want him angry. Thank you for the food.” Jonathan said, daring a few careful bites of food. When Cas curled up on the end of the bed, he gave the other man a pat, trying to reassure him. Cas was so nice, offering food. 

“I like cats. Kitties, they’re so soft, and I wish we could have ‘em here, too. I am not so sure if a cat would be a good mayor. They have a very devil-take-the-hindmost view to illness…we could try that, though.” he extended his neck, trying to let out a purring sound. 

“I got hurt.” Jonathan explained awkwardly. “My…friend. He cut out my eye, and he said he could because it was his birthday. I ran away and a car hit me, and it hurt so much but I kept going, and there were monsters. I started seeing monsters everywhere, and so I had to come here. I’m twenty three. Not old at all.” he wanted to know what Cas was, if he could be the man’s friend, too.

“Would you like some of this? I don’t want to be greedy, and it tastes very good.”

Castiel heard the man and sighed. He tried not to cry but he controlled himself. Tears started falling on his face and he had covered himself. “My full name is… Castiel… And… I… Monsters exist… I was turned to one… When the Leviathans were inside me… So many people died because of them, because of me…” he stuttered as he stared at the man. He didn’t want to talk about this further. He swept his tears and shook his head at the man’s offer.

“I am not used to food yet… I am older than anyone. I am older than time himself so I guess I can’t even have birthday parties, which is really sad…” he bowed his head. “Thank you, but I hate food. When I was an angel, I didn’t need to eat. Now it hurts so much eating… And sometimes I can’t eat it… It’s different than it looks…” he said as he sighed sadly, trying to purr himself, hoping that he would be healed soon.

“You look like a good man Jonathan. Monsters exist… So I don’t know if you belong here. I have killed many monsters… And are people that kill monsters out there… Trust me. My two best friends kill monsters. When they come to visit me, I can meet you to them, they are really nice, they always bring me honey, and they always smell like pie and alcohol. That’s why I love them so much, they are really nice…” he said and his sad expression turned to a small nostalgic smile.

“Cast’yel.” Jonathan repeated, blinking hard. “However did a Leviathan get inside you--” he stopped short, thinking for a moment. 

“It’s okay, Castiel. People died because of me, too. My friend, he said I killed these people, made him do it. I didn’t mean to. After that the monsters started coming. Nobody else could see them. I tried to defend my friends, but I was too weak. They didn’t die, though. I was very happy about that.” he nodded in understanding, finally finishing his offered food. 

“There’s a man, he gives me food and medicine, sometimes. But I don’t like him, because he makes the food transform into horrid things and then he taunts and hurts...I hate it. Sometimes he binds my hands down, or worse, and it scares me. He says he’ll stop when I can be normal.”

At Castiel’s description, Jonathan looked miserable. “Are they really nice? I hope they do not smell like alcohol too much. I don’t want to be near alcohol again, if I can help it.” 

Teach your kids to respect animals!

Teach your kids to leave animals alone if they walk away!

Teach your kids to put down an animal if they are struggling to escape!

It’s not that hard to teach kids that animals are living things and not toys!

When The Calf Walked Out

@heavenly-soldier

There were fishes in Jonathan’s room again. They smacked their mouths as they floated over him, darting at his limbs. Their bodies grew larger and larger and paler and paler, turning from yellowish brown to silver. Their spines turned from tough thorn-like protrusions to long, thin needles, poking and scraping his skin. 

“Please don’t. Please don’t. Don’t have more.” Jonathan pleaded, covering his face with his hands. “Go ‘way.” He huddled further under his blankets, drawing them up to his nose. 

“I won’t do it again.”

Castiel couldn’t remember how long he was into the mental institution. It was surely long enough. The leviathans were dead, Sam and Dean visited him, very often, and Meg… Meg was dead. It seemed like he would spend the rest of his life there. Graceless anymore. Dean insisted to take him away from there, but felt like freaking out in the thought of leaving the place that Meg had died. Very rarely Cas had moments that his mind was clear. Dean and Sam were searching for a cure but the former angel knew there wasn’t one.

Dazed from the pills he had taken he started wondering around. He heard a man yelling and couldn’t help but follow the voice and get into his room, tiling his head. He still had that need to help people. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes sir. Just fine. Happy as can be!”  Jonathan yelped, beginning to cry even as he tried to stop from doing so. His good eye stared at Castiel, careful. The fishes were gone from his sight, but he was certain they were still nearby. 

Who Castiel was, exactly, Jonathan wasn’t sure. He must be there to test Jonathan, to see if he was humble, else he would make horrible things fall out of Jonathan’s mouth. No, Jonathan wouldn’t make any trouble, no sir. 

Jonathan would be humble. He would be nice and good and humble and quiet. He would clean everything for the nice man with soft hair, so there was no bad things falling out of his mouth. Maybe he would make the tears into pearls. And then Jonathan could send all the pearls away to feed people.

Unless maybe Castiel was an owl-robot man, from the moon, here to take Jonathan’s other eye to feed his children. 

“Just fine, sir.” Jonathan repeated. “Happy as can be.”

Castiel tilted his head. He sighed as he didn’t know what to do. “Why are you calling me sir?” he asked as he sat next to him. “Your face… Why are you crying?” he asked softly as he swept his tears. All Castiel could see any ore was pain. He was surrounded by pain and he couldn’t handle it. He just wished he still had his powers to heal each and every one of them. He sighed and gave him a soft smile. He felt like his body was on fire but he ignored. He was feeling like his whole body was burning so he pulled a little bit back, not wanting the man to be hurt. He hugged himself and forced a sad smile at him.

“I am sorry you are in pain. I hope I didn’t harm you…” he stuttered and swept his own tears. He was surely feeling calmer with the high dosage of pills they were giving him, but the wounds from the cage were still worse than ever. “You can come to my room. I have some food that I don’t want to eat, and they will force me all to eat it. Are you hungry? You seem really thin…” he whispered.

He himself was really thin, he was barely eating anymore, but he didn’t care. He was a fucking angel. He would survive. And if he didn’t, he would just die. It would be easier than this suffering. “If you come to my room and eat, I may try heal your wounds. If I have any power left in me. But you have to hurry, before he returns. Alright?”

“Because you’re big. You have magic. Of course I call…call you sir. What is your name? My name is Jonathan. What should I call you? You can call me whatever you want.” He smiled a little back at the other man, leaning into his touch. It felt so good to be touched nicely. 

“You don’t hurt. You don’t hurt at all, sir.“ he patted Castiel’s hand, trying to wipe at the other’s tears. “Yes. I would like to eat. But he gets angry if I eat too much. It’s bad for me–” He didn’t want the Monster King to come back. The Monster King told him what he could eat when he came, and was so angry when he disobeyed.

Healing, the nice man said. Jonathan could be healed. All the pain could go away, at least for a little while. His leg wouldn’t throb so, maybe. Or his chest wouldn’t itch and ache by turns. 

“Yes please. Fast as I can.” he took Castiel’s hand, limping forwards. 

Castiel took Jonathan to his room, and offered him his plate of food. “No one will know, alright? And don’t call me sir, please. You can call me Cas.” he forced a small smile and bowed his head a little. He was trying to block the voices. Telling him to stay away or the poor man would die. How… But he didn’t have his powers, how he thought he could help and heal the man? He sighed sadly, sat to his bed and hugged his knees. He hated these voices. He wished he could disappear.

“Do you like cats? I like cats but their won’t let me have one, did you know that a cat ran for mayor in Mexico City at 2013? I am sure it would be a great mayor…” he smiled to himself. “Did you also know that a cat purrs for self-healing?” he said sweetly and giggled a little. “Wish this could work for humans too. But I am not one anyway.” he said and rested his head to his knees.

“Why such a young man is here? You are really really young. I am old. Thousands of years old and I am here because I had to save my friend, but you, why are you here?” he said softly as he looked up at him.

“Cas is a lovely name.” Jonathan said. He was a little unsure of the food, because if he ate it, he might be stuck here forever or turned into something strange. But that was alright. As long as he didn’t touch his face, Jonathan wouldn’t see whatever truth this was, and didn’t want to. 

“Thank you for not telling, Cas. I don’t want him angry. Thank you for the food.” Jonathan said, daring a few careful bites of food. When Cas curled up on the end of the bed, he gave the other man a pat, trying to reassure him. Cas was so nice, offering food. 

“I like cats. Kitties, they’re so soft, and I wish we could have ‘em here, too. I am not so sure if a cat would be a good mayor. They have a very devil-take-the-hindmost view to illness...we could try that, though.” he extended his neck, trying to let out a purring sound. 

“I got hurt.” Jonathan explained awkwardly. “My...friend. He cut out my eye, and he said he could because it was his birthday. I ran away and a car hit me, and it hurt so much but I kept going, and there were monsters. I started seeing monsters everywhere, and so I had to come here. I’m twenty three. Not old at all.” he wanted to know what Cas was, if he could be the man’s friend, too.

“Would you like some of this? I don’t want to be greedy, and it tastes very good.”

When The Calf Walked Out

@heavenly-soldier

There were fishes in Jonathan’s room again. They smacked their mouths as they floated over him, darting at his limbs. Their bodies grew larger and larger and paler and paler, turning from yellowish brown to silver. Their spines turned from tough thorn-like protrusions to long, thin needles, poking and scraping his skin. 

“Please don’t. Please don’t. Don’t have more.” Jonathan pleaded, covering his face with his hands. “Go ‘way.” He huddled further under his blankets, drawing them up to his nose. 

“I won’t do it again.”

Castiel couldn’t remember how long he was into the mental institution. It was surely long enough. The leviathans were dead, Sam and Dean visited him, very often, and Meg… Meg was dead. It seemed like he would spend the rest of his life there. Graceless anymore. Dean insisted to take him away from there, but felt like freaking out in the thought of leaving the place that Meg had died. Very rarely Cas had moments that his mind was clear. Dean and Sam were searching for a cure but the former angel knew there wasn’t one.

Dazed from the pills he had taken he started wondering around. He heard a man yelling and couldn’t help but follow the voice and get into his room, tiling his head. He still had that need to help people. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes sir. Just fine. Happy as can be!”  Jonathan yelped, beginning to cry even as he tried to stop from doing so. His good eye stared at Castiel, careful. The fishes were gone from his sight, but he was certain they were still nearby. 

Who Castiel was, exactly, Jonathan wasn’t sure. He must be there to test Jonathan, to see if he was humble, else he would make horrible things fall out of Jonathan’s mouth. No, Jonathan wouldn’t make any trouble, no sir. 

Jonathan would be humble. He would be nice and good and humble and quiet. He would clean everything for the nice man with soft hair, so there was no bad things falling out of his mouth. Maybe he would make the tears into pearls. And then Jonathan could send all the pearls away to feed people.

Unless maybe Castiel was an owl-robot man, from the moon, here to take Jonathan’s other eye to feed his children. 

“Just fine, sir.” Jonathan repeated. “Happy as can be.”

Castiel tilted his head. He sighed as he didn’t know what to do. “Why are you calling me sir?” he asked as he sat next to him. “Your face… Why are you crying?” he asked softly as he swept his tears. All Castiel could see any ore was pain. He was surrounded by pain and he couldn’t handle it. He just wished he still had his powers to heal each and every one of them. He sighed and gave him a soft smile. He felt like his body was on fire but he ignored. He was feeling like his whole body was burning so he pulled a little bit back, not wanting the man to be hurt. He hugged himself and forced a sad smile at him.

“I am sorry you are in pain. I hope I didn’t harm you…” he stuttered and swept his own tears. He was surely feeling calmer with the high dosage of pills they were giving him, but the wounds from the cage were still worse than ever. “You can come to my room. I have some food that I don’t want to eat, and they will force me all to eat it. Are you hungry? You seem really thin…” he whispered.

He himself was really thin, he was barely eating anymore, but he didn’t care. He was a fucking angel. He would survive. And if he didn’t, he would just die. It would be easier than this suffering. “If you come to my room and eat, I may try heal your wounds. If I have any power left in me. But you have to hurry, before he returns. Alright?”

“Because you’re big. You have magic. Of course I call...call you sir. What is your name? My name is Jonathan. What should I call you? You can call me whatever you want.” He smiled a little back at the other man, leaning into his touch. It felt so good to be touched nicely. 

“You don’t hurt. You don’t hurt at all, sir.“ he patted Castiel’s hand, trying to wipe at the other’s tears. “Yes. I would like to eat. But he gets angry if I eat too much. It’s bad for me--” He didn’t want the Monster King to come back. The Monster King told him what he could eat when he came, and was so angry when he disobeyed.

Healing, the nice man said. Jonathan could be healed. All the pain could go away, at least for a little while. His leg wouldn’t throb so, maybe. Or his chest wouldn’t itch and ache by turns. 

“Yes please. Fast as I can.” he took Castiel’s hand, limping forwards. 

When The Calf Walked Out

@heavenly-soldier

There were fishes in Jonathan’s room again. They smacked their mouths as they floated over him, darting at his limbs. Their bodies grew larger and larger and paler and paler, turning from yellowish brown to silver. Their spines turned from tough thorn-like protrusions to long, thin needles, poking and scraping his skin. 

“Please don’t. Please don’t. Don’t have more.” Jonathan pleaded, covering his face with his hands. “Go ‘way.” He huddled further under his blankets, drawing them up to his nose. 

“I won’t do it again.”

Castiel couldn’t remember how long he was into the mental institution. It was surely long enough. The leviathans were dead, Sam and Dean visited him, very often, and Meg… Meg was dead. It seemed like he would spend the rest of his life there. Graceless anymore. Dean insisted to take him away from there, but felt like freaking out in the thought of leaving the place that Meg had died. Very rarely Cas had moments that his mind was clear. Dean and Sam were searching for a cure but the former angel knew there wasn’t one.

Dazed from the pills he had taken he started wondering around. He heard a man yelling and couldn’t help but follow the voice and get into his room, tiling his head. He still had that need to help people. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes sir. Just fine. Happy as can be!”  Jonathan yelped, beginning to cry even as he tried to stop from doing so. His good eye stared at Castiel, careful. The fishes were gone from his sight, but he was certain they were still nearby. 

Who Castiel was, exactly, Jonathan wasn’t sure. He must be there to test Jonathan, to see if he was humble, else he would make horrible things fall out of Jonathan’s mouth. No, Jonathan wouldn’t make any trouble, no sir. 

Jonathan would be humble. He would be nice and good and humble and quiet. He would clean everything for the nice man with soft hair, so there was no bad things falling out of his mouth. Maybe he would make the tears into pearls. And then Jonathan could send all the pearls away to feed people.

Unless maybe Castiel was an owl-robot man, from the moon, here to take Jonathan’s other eye to feed his children. 

“Just fine, sir.” Jonathan repeated. “Happy as can be.”

Reblog if…

Reblog this if you have any of these:

Any one that has any of these, just know, you are not alone, no matter how much you think you are not worthy. You are still human.

tonight’s episode: THE GHOST OF KIRBY, THE NEW RECRUIT

@allisonpregler

“Eeeddgarrrrr....you tooook my brooooooommmmm....now you must paayyyyy” - Baywatching, “Eclipse”

My pet theory is that in real life, the kid at the beginning of Jurassic Park who made fun of the ‘six-foot turkey’ never got a talking-to from Dr. Grant, and grew up to produce several of the movie’s sequels.

Feathered Dinosaur Venn Diagram [Explained]

Do you ever think about how when Ron’s wand broke 2nd year, just using spell-o-tape wasn’t enough to fix it. It kept backfiring in ways that were really bad, like making himself eat slugs, or kinda just. being defective in general.

Hagrid’s wand was snapped his 3rd year. But he still uses it, disguised as an umbrella. And it works.

Like we know Ollivander didn’t fix it, since he was surprised to hear Hagrid had the pieces. Not to mention since Hagrid was expelled, it would be extremely illegal to fix it. Hogwarts works as a groundskeeper, and lives in a one room wooden hut that he made himself. He’s not going to have the money to ribe someone to fix it, and then there’s also the fact that because of his heritage, even if he could bribe someone to fix it, they probably wouldn’t. And sure, Dumbledore probably knows that Hagrid fixed his wand, there’s a certain level of deniability there. He wouldn’t have actually gotten involved with the wand mending process. Especially when Hagrid was just accused of killing a student.

So that means Hagrid would have put his wand back together himself.

The 3rd year transfiguration examination was to turn a teapot into a tortoise. Only inanimate objects into animals. Part of the reason animagi are so rare is because they’re human to animal transformations. The first time we meet Hagrid, he gives Dudley a tail, and correctly animates the boat he and Harry are on. Silently.

Harry and co. didn’t even attempt to learn silent casting until 6th year. Anything Hagrid learned after 3rd year would have been self taught.

Hagrid is one powerful wizard and holy shit combined with his resistance to magic with his giant heritage forget McGonagall holy shit Hagrid is terrifying

No wonder sixteen-year-old Voldemort was intimidated enough by thirteen-year-old Hagrid to pick him as the one to frame for murder.

Woulda been nice if the media had explored wordless magic more deeply, since the first spells we ever see use it.

Hagrid defeating Voldemort would have been one hell of a plot twist.

So, AU in which Hagrid didn’t get framed for murder and expelled. We’ll say Aragog never happened and Tom settled on a different fall guy. Myrtle dies and Riddle gets away with it, but Rubeus is not a casualty of the plot.

His written coursework was never going to be great, even if he hadn’t been orphaned at age twelve, but his practical casting gets more noticeably excellent, the more the spells they’re learning benefit from having more power behind them.

Dumbledore made a teacher’s pet of him from the beginning, because he wants to see the half-giant kid Dippet almost didn’t let in succeed, so he’s always worked hardest in Transfiguration. Once Albus notices there’s actual potential here, he keeps assigning him different tutors trying to find someone who can get transfiguration theory into his head because once this kid figures out what the hell he’s doing he’s really good. He starts taking all the kid’s detentions and assigning them as tutoring sessions.

Toward the end of fourth year he tries Minnie McGonagall, a prefect who is ironically in detention for cursing a Slytherin prefect during an argument about politics.

Rubeus gets five OWLs and the Transfiguration score is actually pretty high. The next year, he turns out to be a natural at nonverbal casting. His DADA scores climb steadily.

The summer before Rubeus’ seventh year, his Transfiguration Professor goes to Europe and defeats a Dark Lord. When he comes back, everyone is incredibly excited to have the Conqueror of Grindelwald among them and keeps praising him and thanking him and telling him how proud they are and how proud he must be to be such a hero.

Rubeus is the only one who seems to notice that his favorite teacher seems really, really sad. He bakes him an inedible cake. Albus finds himself smiling and meaning it for the first time in at least three months after he nearly breaks a tooth on it.

Where has one of his favorite students been spending the summers since second year, anyway? Do wizards have their own orphanages? Did Hagrid’s father have relatives that put him up?

(It’s 1946, there aren’t a lot of government regulations covering this kind of thing even for Muggles yet, and the situation of ‘homeless orphan who spends nine months a year at boarding school’ is unprecedented in my experience because those usually cost money.)

Rubeus gets three NEWTs: Transfiguration, DADA, and (with flying colors) Care of Magical Creatures. He gets a job with the winged-horse breeders. Offends the young Abraxas Malfoy by being Entirely Too Large and Not Human and In his Stables. Gets fired. He gets a job at the Welsh Green reserve out west. Gets attached to a particular elderly dragon scheduled for slaughter. Gets fired.

Manages a position at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures–a real grunt position, not at all what you’d expect for someone with such high NEWTs and glowing letters of recommendation from his teachers, even if he has been fired twice, but that’s institutional prejudice for you. Mostly they have him deal with dangerous animals, which is just how he likes it.

Manages to go several years without being fired, mostly because he’s managed to keep his head down and avoid anybody noticing how many animals he was supposed to kill he actually smuggled home to his house. Complains at length to his old teacher and recently appointed Supreme Mugwump about the rampant unfairness toward splendid beasts and nonhuman persons he sees every day on the job, when Albus drops by with cake to have tea and double-check the wards Hagrid’s cast to keep any of his rescues from getting out of the woods around his house.

Is eventually fired, but not for the creature-hoarding because that would probably get him jail time.

Now-Headmaster Dumbledore convinces Professor Kettleburn, who has just lost an arm, that an Adjunct Professor who’s practically indestructible would be just the thing.

By 1970 Rubeus Hagrid is the main CMC Professor and Kettleburn does periodic safety lectures (directed mostly toward Hagrid with the kids learning sort of incidentally; it actually stick with them better that way) and some of the advanced theory topics, and spends the rest of his time doing research in the Forbidden Forest. (Binns is now also a Professor Emeritus and delivers most of his lectures to rooms full of marble busts. He doesn’t seem to have noticed.)

Lily Evans is one of his favorite students. Remus Lupin is teacher’s pet.

Rubeus Hagrid, fully accredited wizard who can shrug off stunners even without any kind of armor, is a battle tank of the Order of the Phoenix. He and Moody take down enough Death Eaters together to have Voldemort wishing he’d killed that ugly half-giant kid when they were in school, instead of the useless Ravenclaw girl.

As a certified Responsible Adult and a dear old friend of Lily Potter-née-Evans, Hagrid ends up being named Harry’s godfather rather than Sirius (who, though dearly beloved, is also young and reckless and probably going to get himself killed before James and Lily at the current rate - the guy who shrugs off stunning spells and can literally crush Death Eaters’ skulls with his bare hands, however, seems like a solid bet for durability). When they ask him to take on the role, Hagrid cries buckets.

But he never actually expects to be called upon, because he never expects that anyone would betray James and Lily.

Dumbledore tries to talk him into sending Harry to stay with his relatives, and Hagrid caves at first, because. Well. Mostly because he’s spent his whole life hearing that he’s clumsy and oafish and worth less than other wizards, and normally he can shrug it off, but raising a whole other person is a very high-stakes sort of situation, and Dumbledore knows how to press on the right self-doubts to achieve what he thinks is the best outcome.

Hagrid promised Lily and James that he’d look out for Harry, though, and as a grown and legal wizard of his own means, no one can really stop him from going where he pleases. And if he pleases to go to Privet Drive, and check in, then those illusion spells he’s learned for fighting Death Eaters are at least going to keep Petunia from shrieking about giants in the neighbourhood. So Hagrid sees the Dursleys and sees how little they love baby Harry, hears how they talk about him as a burden and being from ‘bad stock’ and all their other obvious red flags, and it’s not long before he finds himself sneaking another mistreated and ill-fated little creature back home with him.

Dumbledore argues with him, of course. Hagrid can’t provide blood protection - well, Hogwarts is the next safest place for Harry then, isn’t it? Hagrid can’t shield Harry from the consequences of his fame and reputation - no sir, he can’t do that, that’s true enough. But he knows plenty of places where fame and reputation don’t hardly matter none. He’ll take Harry camping, once he starts getting older. Show him dragons and the deep, wild forests, old caverns and other places where nature and raw magic know how to humble a person in the biggest of ways. Hagrid can’t give him a normal childhood - but what’s normal anyway? The Dursleys? Does Dumbledore think Lily and James would want their son raised in a house where he’s called ‘freak’?

Hagrid’s been called freak, and worse, and he knows that nothing ever feels like ‘normal’ when you’re always being branded as the odd man out.

No sir, Professor Dumbledore, sir, with all due respect - Hagrid’s spent a lot of years looking after living creatures despite the better wisdom of others, and he’s never once had cause to regret it. He won’t do less by Harry. 

So Dumbledore has no recourse but to either stoop to measures that really are beyond his moral conscience, or else concede. He chooses to concede, and Hagrid takes a summer job as groundskeeper so he can stay year round at the school, and raise Harry within the wards. Encouraging Harry’s inquisitiveness and intuition, and taking him out to little muggle preschool events where he solicits advice from the parents there and tries to fake being ‘normal’. He never entirely succeeds, of course, but that’s not new, and he discovers movies and more importantly, documentaries, which swiftly make figuring out how to get televisions to work on Hogwarts’ grounds a pet hobby of Hagrid’s.

By the time Harry is eleven and Voldemort is a problem again, the school governors have been fretting over the students at Hogwarts having ‘muggle tekno-ology’ in the dormitories, Harry Potter is a happy and well-adjusted child, and Hagrid’s figured out how to make a working magical tranquilizer gun that he can shoot like some kind of wizard sniper and hide in his umbrella.

Harry discovers the basilisk when he’s nine and exploring the grounds (it gets taken out to a reserve), Quirrell doesn’t make it halfway through his first year before getting a tranq dart in the back of his head, third year goes about the same but nobody bats an eye at Hagrid getting yet another scruffy-looking dog at the end of it, but Fourth Year is the kicker, when Rubeus Hagrid invokes his guardianship rights and substitutes himself for Harry in the Triwizard Tournament. Barty Crouch ends up trying to knock him out and lock him up with the real Moody in order to force Harry to compete in the final event, but Harry’s so worried about Hagrid going missing that he just forfeits. And Hagrid breaks out of the locked chest midway through the maze competition anyway, and they manage to stop the whole thing before anybody can touch the portkey’d trophy.

Voldemort hates Hagrid so effing much.

I swear I don’t mean this in like a condescending way although maybe I do but the fact that the big controversy on tumblr rn is “do writers put symbolism into their writing or did english teachers make that up” is really bringing home for me the fact that you guys really are all in 10th grade

10th graders poorly educated by teachers who feed them the symbolism far to easily rather than teachers who push you to think critically about texts on your own. Thank god for Mr Osborne and Honors British Literature.

One more thing, symbolism in writing has no perfect and correct answer. When a reader reads a book they also bring their life experiences to it and that is the beauty of literature. Literature allows us to empathize and we all relate both similarly and drastically differently to the same collections of words showing the beautiful variance in the human experience.

I wish people would stop pretending it’s progressive to shit on weird/niche interests as long as you can frame them as “white nonsense” 

Tbh if only white people indulged in nonsense just because it makes them happy, everyone else would be missing out. Everyone deserves some harmless nonsense that makes them happy.

I’ve heard it framed as “privileged nonsense,” too. I feel like accusations of “white nonsense” and “privileged nonsense” disproportionately get leveled at nerdy/geeky and or creative hobbies.

My mom who grew up poor has always framed my creative or nerdy hobbies/interests as things that only privileged people would do, and unconsciously looks down upon people who do imaginative or self-expression based hobbies and or have geeky interests, as being privileged people who must not have any obligations or responsibilities - especially if the people are women because women are always expected to be caring for others, and to not have hobbies at all.

….you just put into words why I loathe “art is for snobs” with EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING THANK

It’s not that you have issues…… it’s that you have a tendency to continue using instincts you picked up in childhood that are no longer useful to you on your journey towards achieving openness and intimacy and reliability in your personal relationships w others. It’s not that you’re defective or difficult or incapable it’s just that what you learned to do to save yourself from the experience of abandonment or rejection or ridicule or failure is not helpful here anymore and you need to start thinking creatively and collaborating on better ways to cope with that instrinsic fear that you are not correct, that you are faking, that you will be found out and left, whatever it is