#avalily

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

*make sure to check tws if you read these

Unsound Inverses: The thing about kissing Cas is, it burns.

Him alive, him somehow in love, him human and pliable under Dean’s fingers, face caressed in his hands, it’s perfect. It doesn’t seem real. Dean’s not entirely sure it  is  real. But when it hits him, when he’s alone, marvelling at the concept, he’s kicked into a high gear he’s never known before.

To Predate Sensation: Castiel is a little bit obsessed with human sensation. 

He knows he wasn’t always this fixated. That, before, it was more just this constant niggling curiosity. This sort of connection to what brought his cognition to light tied into the necessity of perception.

Weblike Causality: His hands become spiders. There are eight and thumbs. You should be sleeping, now shouldn’t you, love? Now where’s the narrator. Now where are the stars? You think there’s a different tale. Will you wake in his arms?

Down a Stream (Gravity): It’s difficult to keep memory and imagery sealed in their tombs. It’s toxic pearl treasures, an enemy to remember, and it traps Sam in dreams. Sam can’t stop seeing it flashing when he closes his eyes. It’s not always gore. There’s too much in his head. But every part of it makes him feel unsafe.

Outlier (in Bite Marks): The thing about touching someone’s soul is that it’s like trying to defuse a live bomb inside a delicate biological body while their entire system is alight with agony. It’s violating, and it’s wrong, and it’s a last resort for the desperate.

esoteric dances: It happens like this a lot. Dean will be out at some bar, probably desperate to not see Sam’s face, and Sam will text Cas who will fly over immediately, like it’s urgent, almost. Like he’s eager. 

Ruby Red: Sam is coil compression, and Sam is anger suppression, and there is another drink at the bottom of the barrel and maybe it’s something to live through. 

Hell Fractal: Killing Lilith changed something in his veins like the ultimate high just for the crash to hit him surreal. He’s so lost in horror and confusion as Ruby’s stroking him, so overwhelmed by the enormity of it, the evil and consequence but also the miring sense of putrid disgust. He feels reality fritzing little scratchy television games from her touch.

like an asteroid: Time is elusive and spittles on. Lily thinks of death as a bad psychedelic trip she can never get off. Hell's supposed to be different: she knows that. But the demons are smart enough to never get near her. She’s neither here nor there on earth or in hell. It’s like translucent black imagery circulating in vision. A superimposition. 

static meteor: She says, “Samuel, do you really think you deserve to be treated like anything besides a monster in a cage?”

She turns to a bag and fiddles around in it for a moment.

And while Sam cannot justify a lot of what the US hunters have done, and while Sam cannot defend his own right to be free or worthy of any of the rights that “people” deserve, he cannot find himself justifying this.

"She looks at her gloved hands, and she’s no longer looking through a telescope pointed at cement dark water. The world no longer feels like a kaleidoscope set to inverse. It’s like waking up from a nightmare with the most intense time distortion. She’s spit back into a place and time, and she swears she still hears echoes of children laughing in the distant trees."

For: @arodeanw Ava Wilson/Lily Baker ; Witch & Familiar AU