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autisticandroids · 1 year

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Director's commentary on "hunger" PLEASE. I cannot stop thinking about the yonic abyss.

[the goal here is to provide a director's commentary, a la the one i did for i fold in half so easily, though obviously less comprehensive. this commentary is for hunger.]

i don't have a TON to say about hunger. but. well. ok. first of all. yonic abyss castiel comes from this post by @allegedlyopposed. that's crucial before we start. okay. second thing you have to know is that i was DESPERATELY finishing this ON november fifth. in order to get something posted and i managed it at like 11pm. the third thing is that the original concept for this fic was um. much weirder. as you'll see.

also like, i had a ton of fun writing this fic because like... a lot of endverse cas fic is like. it's About The End. that's what it's about. it's really uninterested in how the endverse related to the rest of the canon except in terms of differences. but the thing about the endverse is like. the point of divergence from the timeline is free to be you and me. that's pretty fucking late! a lot of things that we see happen in canon have also happened to endverse dean and cas. endverse cas sat with dean on a bench and discussed doubts. endverse cas saw dean fall apart in on the head of a pin. endverse cas said "we're making it up as we go." so like, it was a lot of fun to write a fic that is essentially mostly about lazarus rising, framed through the endverse. like it's very explicit that this is like... also how our cas feels. he would just never say it, and may not even have the words to articulate it yet.

“Want some?” Cas says, offering the joint, and Dean looks over at his jailer.

“No, thanks. I, um, don’t partake.” Dean feels his cheeks heat.

Cas laughs, then. It’s a big belly laugh, complete with a coughing fit halfway through. He chucks Dean on the shoulder.

“It gives you panic attacks, I know. I just wanted to see if you’d agree out of embarrassment. You were such a priss about admitting it back in the day.”

i love you weedsocks boy. the thing about dean winchester is that he is a little chihuahua of a man and could never smoke weed he is TOO anxious. however, as an homage to the dean winchester beat sheet. i do believe that he pretends to other people that he smokes weed.

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t say anything. He sits and he watches Cas smoke, instead.

“-can’t even fucking look at him” is what Dean’d heard this afternoon through the cabin wall. “So you want me to?” came the drawled reply. That’s when Cas had come into Dean’s cabin - Dean’s in the sense that it belonged to his future self, but also Dean’s in the sense that it was where he’d been kept for the past however many hours - and taken him by the arm.

it's crucial to me that endverse cas be mean. that's like. it's the last power that he has, over dean. they both know that cas will follow dean to the ends of the earth willingly, and they also know that dean can't do anything to cas, so it's like. stalemate. dean keeps cas around, and cas makes nasty remarks, and dean gives orders, and cas does what dean says in the end (no pun intended, hah). you know? and it's also about how endverse cas is you know maybe in some ways better off in his relationship with his dean than like, season fifteen cas. more secure, less afraid, possessed of more power and agency. even if when all is said and done it all ends up the same.

Now he’s in Cas’ beaded hippie dreamscape, minus the girls, and he’s not cuffed but he’s pretty sure that if he tried to leave he’d be down before he took four steps.

look i'm not a dta girlie but that bit in dta where cas just obliterates dean in like the first or second chapter was compelling.

There aren’t really chairs in Cas’ cabin, just a couple big wooden chests all covered in candles, but there’s these fat, plush silky pillows, and the carpet’s real soft. It’s nice as long as Dean sits criss-cross applesauce and doesn’t think of what might be caked into it. It can’t be worse than some of the motel beds he’s slept in, right?

Cas is leaning back on a pile of cushions, one leg bent, the other loose and stretched across the floor. He blows a smoke ring, and Dean can see his throat working. Watches his Adam’s apple bob.

“You used to be a priss about everything. You know, when you had to shoot Jo Harvelle, I held your hair back as you bent over the toilet. It was long for a while. We were hiding out in one of Rufus’ old cabins. Couldn’t get electricity for the clippers.” Cas sighs. It’s a wistful sound. “It's a shame we've got solar panels now. You were so pretty. It fell around your face like…” he trails off, staring at the ceiling. A shiver goes through Dean. “At least we can flip the lights on at Chitaqua.”

cas voice who cares that jo is dead i got to touch your face. gayboy moment of the highest degree.

Dean glances around at Cas’ cabin. There’s no bulb in the single ceiling fixture. Just candles.

also it's crucial that i am positing a prelapsarian time where this dean and this cas WERE happy. they may or may not have been sleeping together (probably yes but it doesn't really matter) (it will become clear as the fic goes on that they have slept together at SOME point, but possibly not until things were falling apart, hard to tell) but they WERE happy. or, more likely, cas was happy. dean was miserable - he had to put down his friends like rabid animals - but cas and dean were holed up together all alone or nearly so, and dean was soft and vulnerable, enough so to both let his hair grow out and to let cas hold it back. like this was clearly an idyllic time for cas, specifically, because the world may have been ending but he had dean, in a meaningful, serious way.

Cas’ head flops to the side, and it would have felt unintentional except his eyes are so clear and bright and now they’re staring right into Dean’s.

“C’mere.” Cas cricks a lazy finger at him, and he might have said that in his chill stoner voice but God, it's a command. It's an order, and Dean can't disobey. Cas used to lead armies, and Dean can feel it in the smoky air they're sharing.

Dean scoots closer, but Cas pats the cushions beside him.

“Lay down. Stay awhile.” He laughs again, like it’s some sort of joke, but the sound is creaky. Breathy. More like a sigh than a laugh, less like a sigh than a gust of wind through an old house.

Dean lays on his side. Facing Cas. Cas rolls to meet him, and they’re nearly nose to nose.

Cas reaches over. Runs a hand up Dean’s left side. Gentle. It would be ticklish if he weren’t wearing a shirt.

“You used to be a priss about this, too,” Cas breathes, and kisses him.

It’s soft. Cas’ lips are chapped, but they’re still pillowy. And Cas is warm, his hand solid on Dean’s ribs.

Dean’s eyes fly open. He chokes.

“What?”

This close, he’s treated to quite a show when Cas’ eyes roll.

“Still a priss, then.”

king of negging. there are a lot of things going on in this fic but one of them is that cas wants to fuck dean and is heaping him with the perfect combo of compliments, insults, and commands to make dean want his approval in order to fuck him. and it works. manipulative ❤️

Dean can feel the words against his lips.

Cas flops back onto his back, still watching Dean from the corner of his eye. Dean stays where he is.

Cas brings a hand up. Cups Dean’s chin. Draws the pad of his thumb across Dean’s bottom lip.

“I can promise you, you’ll get over yourself eventually.”

Dean licks his lips involuntarily, goosebumps running up his spine, but all he can think of is the man his double shot this morning. It’s called commonplace.

i love it when being gay is a sign of losing yourself. like the thing about endverse dean is that he's a complete ego death for our dean. he does what dean would never do. whether that's coldly kill people he cares about or have gay sex.

“I-” he can’t really speak. He can’t talk to this funhouse mirror image of his friend, this antifuture doppelganger, this Cassandra prophecy. He can’t say who are you. He can’t say who am I.

All he can do is try to prove Cas wrong. Or just try to prove himself.

He takes Cas’ face in his hands. Presses their mouths together with force. Slips his tongue into Cas’ mouth, desperate for a taste of-

this was about the point where i was like okay if i'm being realistic about dean then i am never getting them into bed together. it's too hard. he's too much of a little bitch about it. i'm gonna need to turn up the "doe-eyed and slack-jawed" slider to max on this one. and on reflection i also just needed him to get manipulated because that was what cas wanted to do. it's enrichment

He feels a little huff of laughter burst from Cas’ chest. Dean rolls, and finds himself straddling him.

“Ooh, forward, ” Cas says when they break apart. Under him Dean can feel Cas’ bony hips digging into his thighs.

Cas leans back, closes his eyes. Runs two fingers up Dean’s arm, and goosebumps follow. The movement is so easy but Dean can see the tension across Cas’ shoulders. His baggy shirt rides up, and Dean can see just a sliver of soft skin.

i used endverse cas running his fingers up dean's arm in another fic. let it never be said i'm not consistent. anyway i do think cas is a toucher in general and endverse cas, because he fucks constantly, would turn that into a flirting style, you know? and like the thing about cas is he hosts orgies to become a part of something larger than himself and like. touch is part of that. i think endverse cas touches people to hit on them and etc. but he also craves touch and has not been trained out of it as aggressively as canonverse cas was because in canonverse dean really held all the card in that relationship while also like. not being as close to cas. whereas in the nebulous beforetime that i posited previously 1) dean and cas were lovers and 2) they were each other's most important person, depending on each other. it actually seems like cas was more taking care of dean for a while, because dean fell apart when the world ended and cas didn't because like, he had already torpedoed his own life by falling, what did he care.

“Do you know what it was like, having you inside me?” Cas says. Dean’s breath catches, and he can feel his dick perk up.

i hate to write unsubtle sexual arousal like that but needs must.

Cas’ eyes slit open, and he smirks a little. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant when I flew you out of Hell.”

this was approximately the point at which i decided that this fic should be normal and not the original weird thing i planned. the thing about castiel mouthgenitalia fic is that i still do desperately want to write it but i'm not sure it adds that much to endverse. certainly not outside the context of this specific fic. i do kinda miss the original scene i had planned where dean was like [pointing between cas' legs] what the hell is that and cas was like popular among the people of camp chitaqua ;). also i have a great fondness for tangibly inhuman endverse cas <3.

“O-Of course.” Dean swallows.

“Anyways. Angels are… we were built by our Father. Or… we were built for our Father. And every angel… every angel has a hollow. At the center. It’s meant for worship. There’s this emptiness inside us, all of us, and it’s meant to be where we receive His love but…” he trails off. Dean thinks about Cas. His Cas. Was he empty? Was he hungry like that? When Anna said that only four angels had ever met God…

when angels are empty. like the thing about angels is that they were built to love and worship god but they LITERALLY never knew him. and they were never supposed to! isn't that cruel?? like even demons are twisted to love something that is present, even if they are tortured and brainwashed into it. angels are literally built FROM SCRATCH to love god and he never planned to be there. evil evil evil.

“And you… you were vicious. When I picked you up. You didn’t want to go, and I think maybe you were terrified of me, and you screamed and struggled and snarled and snapped and I just… I couldn’t hold you. I couldn’t hold you and fight off the demons that were all over the place trying to stop me. So I just… I took you inside. I took you into the place where my Father was supposed to be. And I… God, I don’t remember what it was like, fighting my way out.” Cas sighs. Takes a deep breath. Dean thinks maybe he remembers. Nothing clear. But a cleansing white light, first shining on him, then all around him. And a feeling of…

i love it when cas puts dean in the hollow where god was. worship. deification. consumption. new forms of daddy kink never before invented.

“I know it was bad. It felt like every demon in Hell was trying to stop me. Maybe they were. But all I could feel was you, this feral thing, biting and scratching so deep in me and it was… it was more than I’d ever felt before.”

i truly do believe that this is the vibes of what happened in canon. when castiel experiences internal abrasion by tooth or claw resulting in fertilization <3.

Dean can feel the blood rushing in his ears.

“More than the exhilaration of battle. More than the joy of the Song. More than the horror of an abomination like your brother. It was… God.” Cas shifts under Dean, and Dean thinks he can feel the start of a bulge in Cas’ ridiculous hippie pants.

haha did you catch the double meaning. god is a normal exclamation there but it's also like. "it was god" = deifying dean and the experience of having dean in him where god was meant to be.

“And when I spat you out, I could still feel it. It was terrifying. I was so empty and now I knew what it was like. You gouged pieces out of me I didn’t even know were there. I couldn’t fill it.”

Cas fingers Dean’s waistband, slipping the tip of his thumb under to caress the soft skin underneath, and Dean’s stomach muscles clench. He feels his thighs go tight against Cas’ hips. It’s just self-preservation to grab Cas’ wrist.

“You know, I tried. I tried to lose myself in the Song for a long time. Angels aren’t really… we’re not like you. Our minds aren’t… fully autonomous.” Dean can feel Cas’ fingers as he starts fiddling with the button on Dean’s jeans.

[citation]. i love youuuuu hivemind boy.

“The boundaries between my thoughts and my brothers’ are… it’s not clear where the line is. Or it wasn’t, when I still had brothers. But I tried to lose myself in them, to stop being Castiel and just be an angel, but none of them- I was too different. None of them understood. None of them understood what it was like to have been full and then empty again. I was so alone and I wanted…” Cas lays big hands on Dean’s thighs, grasping the meat of them. Dean shivers. Rolls his hips automatically.

i am always very intrigued about cas as a being discovering desire. like i don't really think of cas as a creature that had an independent, unique will before he was sort of forcibly jolted into the world by dean and the mission. like i think that's how most angels are. they are part of a whole and if they sing out of key they get lobotomized. so cas is like. he is really discovering the twin concepts of desire and dissatisfaction at once. he is the freudian baby removed from the breast and forced to experience that separation for the first time. i've written a lot of other fanfiction about this, or, well, at least two. like the thing about cas is that he's kind of learning emotional maturity on the fly, lmao. like he's never had to regulate his own behavior and emotions before, that's always been done with orders and hivemindiness and punishments and lobotomies. cas has never needed to deal with anything like that before. he's an intellectual adult with the level of emotional experience of a toddler, or rather, he starts that way. he's had to work on it. also note: the implication here is that all of this, the trying to lose himself among his brothers, took place during canon season four and happened with our cas as well.

“God, I wanted. I tried everything. Sex, drugs, and even rock and roll.” Cas’ eyes are wide open now. Open, and clear enough to slice right through him. Clear enough to bite right into him. “ Nothing fills me up like you, Dean.”

can't fill it can you? not with food, drink, not even with sex. i don't think endverse cas is truly pulling a dean here as such. the thing about endverse cas is that he is both a genuine hedonist and also "substituting short term pleasure for long term happiness." like the thing is cas does absolutely enjoy sex drugs and rock n roll but he is also like. one, he has lost the communion of heaven, and two, now that he has truly known desire for the first time he can never unknow it, he will always hunger for more. but also... he does just want dean. like dean is what he wants. if he had dean, that would satisfy him. but he doesn't. so he's kinda fucked.

And Dean remembers now. He remembers being on the rack. Off the rack. He remembers Alastair beside him, whispering in his ear as he- and then remembers the light coming. And he remembers the feeling.

The inescapable terror of prey.

the thing is. okay. the thing is this fic is one more in a very long line of fanfictions by me in which dean is like. he is tortured by the experience of cas' desire for him. like this fic is more on the "cas' desire is terrifying" side. as i said earlier, cas has only just learned what it is to want. thus his desire is not tempered. it is absolute and demanding and predatory. it consumes and destroys. but i'm also just interested in dean's horror of being desired in general. like the thing about dean is that he is the ken doll he is the marlboro man he is the cowboy and he has to be those things and it tortures him and being desired as those things tortures him more and makes it real. and he's spent his whole life being objectified (sexually and otherwise) in the course of his work as a hunter. like, he's played bait and flirted his way through security doors and kissed monsters to get a spit sample his whole life. he's been valued for what his body can do his whole life. he's been having casual sex with random women because it's what a man does or because it's the only human connection he can get, take your pick, his whole life. he spent his formative years as an extraordinarily beautiful teenage boy hanging around bar rooms and motels on the fringes, places filled with gropey drunk adult men. dean's relationship with other people being attracted to him is going to be tortured at best. like that stuff doesn't come up too much in this fic but it's something on my mind generally when the topic comes up. cas may be fixing to eat dean up, but for dean, it feels like all desire is going too eat him up.

Dean shivers, his mouth too dry to speak. He licks his lips instead.

well. i said all that. but it's also a turn-on, being afraid. at least for dean. he wants to be eaten up so bad.

Cas reaches up to Dean’s shoulder, puts a hand on his sleeve, and Dean can feel something pulse from the scar there. From Cas’ brand on him. Cas grabs him, hand over where they both know the handprint sits on his skin, and pulls him down until Dean is folded nearly in half. Until their noses brush, and Dean can feel Cas’ hot breath on his lips.

“So, if I can’t have every part of you in me,” he traces one finger up the line of Dean’s zipper, “the least you can do is give me your cock.”

#spn #asks #luulapants

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