#and this isn't even mentioning crossovers

[unnounblr]

Like, I do think it's also the case that. The series does have a lot of impactful, memorable moments, scenes and sequences that stick with you. And they're related to other things and come back.

"No one would miss me," "that's not true, I would" is in both Days, where it's when Roxas leaves the Org. and it's in KH2 itself where Roxas is getting his memories back, and remembers that he was in the Organization in the first place. It's part of both of those stories and storylines, and depending on which one you're viewing it in, it changes the context of the scene.

Roxas's summer vacation ending is the capstone of that entire prologue, and it ties into Days for people that played both. Sora's sacrifice is also connected to Roxas's birth, and to Sora's restoration by Kairi. I at least personally find it difficult to divorce individual scenes from their context and everything around them.

It seems like, for the Battle of 1000 Heartless. Like, that's actually a good one because there is just so much that happens in that whole part of KH2. Like, in terms of the whole sequence, it also includes Demyx's fight and death, Goofy's fake death, the reveal of Ansem and Xemnas and Xehanort, the Final Fantasy characters, Stitch, Mickey, and the entire first visit to Space Paranoids. It's. A Lot.

If someone argued that the whole 2nd visit to Hollow Bastion at the midpoint of KH2 was the peak of the series. Like, it's hard to argue. It's a rollercoaster of reveals and emotions and intrigue and drama and action and. Rule of Cool crossover nonsense.

I think the biggest complaint people have about KH3, and I think the source of the complaints people do have whether they realize it or not. Is that KH3 doesn't have anything like it.

Like, KH1 has the 2nd visit to Traverse Town, and Agrabah and Monstro where we start to see more of Riku's fall. BBS has. Radiant Garden, funnily enough. Where the storylines converge. None of the games have a midpoint as strong and. Full. As KH2's. But they do tend to have some sort of midpoint, where the story changes gears, at least a little, that then gets paid off and resolved in the climax and finale and ending.

KH1's climax in Hollow Bastion is more impactful and stronger than its midpoint, and that's also true of Birth By Sleep, while arguably KH2's midpoint in Hollow Bastion is stronger (or, at least there's more of it) than the finale in The World That Never Was, but both the first game and BBS. Have a midpoint. Technically, DDD does as well, though it's not especially strong, and. I mean, the middle of Days is, roughly, when Riku meets Xion and that starts the problems and the conflicts that lead to the ending, though the structure of Days is that it doesn't tend to have a lot of momentum.

But KH3 really doesn't have much of a midpoint at all. The world that feels the most like it could be a midpoint, in terms of reveals and crossover stuff, is actually Monstropolis, but because of the nature of the Disney worlds in 3, it still isn't really that. You don't even really interact with Randall, nothing hugely exciting happens, and everything with Vanitas that could be the exciting part is at the very end of the world storyline.

It also seems like they blew more of the budget on doing all of Let It Go in Arendelle.

I think Nomura mentioned for KH4 that the plan is to return to Quadratum between visits to other worlds, and. I mean, I hope so, and I hope something impactful and interesting happens in some of those revisits because I do think, structurally and pacing-wise. Kingdom Hearts is at its best and strongest when it has some sort of world visit in roughly the middle of the game, that changes the character motivations and our understanding of the story, somehow.

"Riku is with Maleficent and kidnapping princesses and also puppets" "Mickey is hiding what happened to Riku, who might be in the Dark Realm, Ansem wasn't Ansem, Organization XIII is using the hearts from the Heartless" "Terra, Ven and Aqua have had a big fight, Terra feels like he hasn't been trusted, Aqua is worried about her friends, Ven feels like he's being condescended to, Xehanort faked his own kidnapping".

I can understand why, in the case of KH1 and BBS, the midpoints aren't the most impactful and memorable part. But the moments in the climaxes that are more memorable all depend and rely on the midpoint somehow.

KH3 has some good moments in the endgame, but they're all sorta. Self-contained. And there isn't much in KH3's middle that's particularly strong, particularly compelling.

Saw this and thought "damn, roxas's impact!'

[puppetmaster13u]

I'll be honesty. I don't really care for ghost king Danny. HOWEVER, I will make an exception for the Ennead. Because just, imagine, going to see the king/queen of the Infinite, and it's no man, no woman that you stand before. But an abomination born of desperation.

Something of sheer destruction, whose form blocks out the sun. Yet is of beauty and balance at the same time. A beast of duality, of hubris and the desperation of humanity.

[starry-bi-sky]

@megacharizardx99

I was gonna initially just leave this as a reply but I'll probably exceed the word limit, but I like this question! This is a good question :]

Honestly with it being this early on in Batman's career, and with Nightingale being the designated emergency support, I can pretty confidently say that Danny's relationship with the other Rogues ranges from neutral to dislike, and vice versa. Just by virtue of it being really early on in all of their careers and thus Rogues like Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn and stuff, haven't had the character development to otherwise be someone worth, eh, well, liking.

Nightingale's role as 'emergency only' means that he's really not seen that often. Bruce is a pretty master escape artist so for him to get in a situation that requires Danny to feel like he needs to step in is rare.

I haven't gotten Nightingale's persona completely set in stone yet, I'm still bouncing around with ideas, but the current gist I've got for him is that he's honestly pretty quiet. He's not there to engage in a fight or banter, he physically can't; he's there to aid the Batman and that usually means subterfuge, sabotage, psychological tricks, to just straight up shooting people with tranq darts depending on his mood that day.

The Nightingale posts I have here are hyperbolic and a bit exaggerated for my own amusement and entertainment, albeit still reflective of what I'm thinking of for the fic. The post this comment came from is a special case in that it was a joke idea I came up with and felt like sharing. It might show up in fic, just in a different format.

With that being said, from the POV of the Rogues, it means that the Batman has this protective little shadow that will pop up at random and either enact psychological warfare on them (distract them long enough for Batman to free himself), break their stuff (make it easier for Batman to free himself), or straight up shoot them with a tranquilizer, and you never really know which it will be until it's happening. Sometimes its all three.

Sometimes its neither of them; sometimes its him freeing Batman without ever making his presence known. One moment the Bat was trapped, the next he's not.

I don't think they even learn what his name is for a while either. He's probably just called smth like 'the Shadow' until people find out his name is Nightingale.

Safe to say though, the Rogues don't like Batman's little shadow that much, and even if he doesn't show up, he invokes this unwilling paranoia in a lot of them whenever they have him trapped. Besides, he's associated with Batman, the guy who keeps trying to stop them, that makes Nightingale a hated figure on principle.

As for Danny's opinion on the Rogues, I don't think there's any of them that he necessarily likes. Sympathizes with, sure, but not like. Folks like Mr. Freeze and Poison Ivy and Babydoll fall under his 'cool motive, still murder' banner, where yeah he gets where they're coming from, but that doesn't excuse the harm they're doing. While folks like Black Mask, the Penguin, or Joker, fall under his 'what an asshole' banner, where he doesn't like them just for the obvious reasons of they're hurting people for power.

He probably likes Catwoman honestly, but her main profession is also thief not murderer so she has that going for her.

I don't think he'd have any special opinions on the other ghost characters. They're ghosts; water is wet, fork found in kitchen.

But yeah, as of the timeline right now Danny's opinion on the Rogues and vice versa are what you'd expect. He's not in the field often enough to form a relationship with any of them beyond the normal one, and considering his schtick is "you made Batman need my help" he's not particularly inclined on changing it. Child ghosts can be so protective yk, especially clingy little traumatized ones with separation anxiety.

[thenonbinarydetective]

some of the things people say about Damian on here are fucking disgusting

I don't care if he's fictional, I would never say these things about a child

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Ask and you shall receive (a sneak peak of what's to come)

[alphascorpiixx]

Various ideas for my FFXIV/KH crossover AU:

Fray is a Heartless

Voidsent are not Heartless. The Source and its reflections exist within the Realm of Light except for the Thirteenth, which has fallen extremely close to the Realm of Darkness

Unless I get further information the terminus monsters that attacked Amaurot are Heartless

Heartless invasion pre-KH1 coincides with the Seventh Umbral Calamity. The stars star disappear from the sky as Dalamud falls and even the Ascians are concerned about that

Either Luxu or the Master of Masters told the Ancients how to create a will for the star (also depending on if i get further info about how Zodiark was created. im only in shb)

Luxu definitely infiltrated the Ascians at some point and critiqued their black robe style

recompleted Lauriam and Elrena end up on the Source for some reason. They still use their Nobody names as aliases and become wanted criminals in Sharlayan. And also meet the Lemures. Later a Zenos vs Lauriam reaper fight

the Scions need to ally with the RG apprentices for Some Reason and get their help deciphering Allagan artifacts. The group goes to some Azys Lla-type place but get ambushed by imperial soldiers. Even gives some speech about how dull he finds this world and how using this great technology for war is so boring. The imperials could be researching the mysteries of the heart and—oh is that human experimentation research?? 👀 👀 "Make a catalogue of this, Ienzo, this is fascinating." The Scions start to question their choice of ally

Discussions on what would happen if a Heartless stole the heart of a sin eater

Discussions on what would happen if a sin eater corrupted a Nobody

Discussions on whether or not Xehanort counts as an Ascian

Way too many discussions on what Thancred's Nobody name would be. "He didn't even lose his heart, he just got possessed." "Naxtrehd." "You forgot a letter." "Fuck."

Hildibrand adventures with Donald and Goofy. Goofy is the Smart One. Donald oneshots Bahamut with Zettaflare. Sideplot where Gilgamesh tries to take a Keyblade but it won't stay summoned in his hand

Additional plot with Donald and Goofy where they mentioned that they still can't find Sora and are considering talking to Hades. Cue Scions' extreme confusion and subsequent miscommunication about which Hades they're talking about

Y'shtola casts flow again and this time the Fairy Godmother pops over to the Final World to bring her back. She insists that the Scions repeat "bippity boppity boo" with her for it to work

A Scalan keyblade wielder complains about how pretentious and inaccurate the name "the Source" is for a minor world. "Scala ad Caelum should rightfully be called the Source because it is the nexus from which all worlds spring." Emet-Selch has to go sit down to process this for a moment

Sea salt trio in Amaurot: "oh this kind of looks like The World that Never Was." Scions: "The World that what." "The World that Never Was. Home to the Castle that Never Was and Nobodies that don't exist—" "Okay now you are just making that up." "We did say they don't exist." "Please stop."

Minfilia inherited the Princess of Heart powers during KH3 (ARR time) and passed them onto the Oracles of Light and eventually Ryne

Ryne bonding with Naminé and Xion over being a copy of someone else and eventually asserting their own identity

Gaius and Ansem villain monologue contest

Sora gets the Bahamut summoned he deserved to have in KH1

Sora also has multiple versions of the Ultima Weapon keychain in his back pocket and nearly gives everyone in the vicinity a heart attack when he casually mentions that

Scrooge McDuck vs the Monetarists

Chicken Little summon

[azulhood]

DPxDC crossover but, instead of Danny being his ghostly-horror self, the justice league believe that he's just some guy.

Danny: *glowing eyes, sharp teeth, aura of eldritch being*

Villain: You're seeing this right?

Justice league: *turns around to find all the ghostly stuff gone* oh that's Danny *waves* hi Danny!

Villain: ...are you being serious right now?

It's not even that he's doing it on purpose, it's just anytime he does ghost things none of the heros are looking, and when they do have him in their sights he's just a normal person.

It probably wouldn't work for batman and his thousand cameras, but let's just say that it never got his attention cause no one in the league thought to mention it and the one time he did check it was just regular dude hours.

To the Justice league Danny is the humanist human to ever human.

Which is why they are so confused as to why this small branch of the government (mad scientist parents optional) is so sure he isn't.

[iamespecter]

Hi. I have new stuff to show. There are more coming as well, I just had to stop with three for now because it's so hot rn.

(tw for body horror)! | Digital Nightmares post

Now, when tackling the monster designs for this little crossover, I had to keep in mind what made the LN monsters so unique and uncanny in the first place. Which meant simple, but exaggerated, contorting body horror features. I had to not stray from original TADC concepts and try to embody them in these designs as best as possible, and made them extra grotesque. For Jax's case, he's become a farmer that also doubles as a scarecrow, something he asked the Doll (Ragatha) to do to him. His purple complexion is the result of this decision.

There's also the factor of making them have more muted colors as opposed to bright and saturated ones, to really make it hit home and the cast would fit in the universe of Little Nightmares (even though the environments are most definitely not gonna be the same as the games, since the monsters' environments reflect their occupation/role) Ragatha in this one is a Dollmaker whom had an unfortunate run in with the Entomologist (Kinger), resulting in stitches.

The designs may look simple enough, but make no mistake; I had a TON of trouble figuring out how to incorporate the TADC cast into a more monstrous versions of themselves because of just how vastly different the vibes between the two medias are. These designs underwent at least 2-3 tries before being finalized, because goddamn character design is my passion but does it kick ass sometimes Good ol' Kinger here is an Entomologist (Insect collector), who doesn't like his "focus" on his work and belongings being disturbed. He has two detached hands that roam around.

Obviously this isn't where it ends because I still have to do Gangle, Zooble, Gummigoo, Gloink Queen and Loolilalu (Maybe even Martha Mildenhall) so this may be a multiple part series.

Not to mention, Pomni and Caine's monster selves too because I'm not gonna ignore that, everyone becomes a monster in this and no one can stop meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[ozzgin]

"Platonic obsession,by your parents" BOY YOU BETTER WRITE ABOUT THAT,I'M GOBBLING IT UP!

It's also mentioned in Part 2 that Reader's parents are pretty much platonic yanderes.

One must wonder how Reader is so oblivious and clueless to all these acts of stalking; the simple answer is that they grew up with it. Their family dons an entire lineage of skilled yanderes, generations of flawless graduates. The fact that Reader turned out to be a Darling was an anomaly, a never-before-seen event in the household. It wasn't something shameful, mind you. It just happened to trigger a family-wide, overbearing need to look after little Reader, who could be adorably naïve in the face of this big world.

First day at school? Reader would giggle and wave at the parents, as they crouched behind the bushes with cameras and binoculars, sniffling and dabbing their eyes with a napkin. They hated to see their baby growing up so fast. A chick must eventually leave its nest, but that didn't mean they couldn't follow its every step outside.

Holidays and birthdays? Reader would clap in excitement, opening all the generous gifts from friends and relatives. Somehow, every year and without exception, everyone knew exactly what they wanted.

School trips and friend outings? Reader would always get a little homesick, so much they'd begin to see reminders of it scattered all over the place. "Oh, my grandma has the same van! Even the stickers...I must really miss my family, huh?"

Needles to say, Reader is very much used to whatever goes on in Yandere School.

Though if we are to take the Clumsy!Yandere crossover into consideration, I'd say Reader isn't necessarily devoid of yandere genes. In that case, it's more of an unconscious, dormant power which triggers whenever Reader's pathetic best friend is in need (so almost always).

[Yandere School Masterlist]

[pcyren]

（ OSCAR PIASTRI ）✶ ── APRIL FOOLS

✶ summary : some people ship you and oscar and some people don't even know that you're aware of each other's existence so your latest post really gets people riled up.

✶ category : smau

✶ notes : heyyyyyy. short little smau to get back into the swing of things, maybe I'll post more, probably not. this is for the anon who asked me about this months ago. i'm so sorry, I hated all the other versions of this and finally got some inspiration the other day and now i'm running with it. times and dates? irrelevant! spelling mistakes? (mostly) intentional !

Liked by bestfrienduser, logansargent, zendaya and 5 649 263 others

oscarpiastri at long last love has arrived

View all 7 826 comments

user somebody shoot me, like right now

user what. the. fuck.

user happy April 1st!!! hahaha!!!! so funny!!! very practical jokester!!!

user the way they look at each other 😭😭😭

user shayne and courtney core

user sobbing, nobody talk to me right now

user congratulations 🎉

user love that i clicked on your post notification and immediately got attacked😊

user please say this is for a movie

user idk, these look a little TOO real

user to LAURYN HILL??!?!! oh I'm kms if this isn't real

user i think i missed a few chapters...

user honey, the book wasn't even published

user what a beautiful couple 😍

lando you guys are unbelievable

user oh so it's fake, thanks for the confirmation

lando where did i say that?

user oh so it's real❓

lando didn't say that either

user you're a horrible person and not even your good looks can save you

lando so you think i'm good looking, thank you😏

user oh who is you

user oh Oscar's decided to become an actor, good for him

user even you don't believe that

user SOMEONE SAY SIKE RN

user real or not, they look so good together

user WHAT DO YOU MEAN YN LN AND OSCAR PIASTRI NOT ONLY KNOW EACH OTHER BUT ARE MARRIED??!!??!???

user life is not real

user craziest crossover

user please god, let this be real, i need this

user I really want to be it to be real but this literally looks like a movie and yn is an actor

user a movie with their friends and family?

user well, you can't really see their faces and movies always need extras

user not even joking, i genuinely dropped to my knees in despair

user the mclaren admin is going through it in the comments and they're so me

user real ones know oscar's been dating someone

user BUT HER?!??!! how did he keep that a secret

user genuinely don't know, if i was dating yn, i'd be singing it from the rooftops

user guess that's why they're married and you're alone

user 😦 too soon

user i basically stalk him and i didn't even know

user uhhh that's not...

user going in for more kisses?? destroyed me

nicolepiastri Welcome to the family(officially)! We're so excited to have you.

user everybody pack it up, nicole just confirmed it

user i won't believe it until april 3 bc she loves to go along with a joke

user i'm gonna cry

user this is how I'm gonna announce my relationship, no soft launching, just pictures from my wedding

user am i being punked rn

hattiepiastri finally oscar's done something useful! so happy to be able to call you my sister

user mans is literally a f1 driver but rn his biggest accomplishment is marrying yn

user well yes!

user this is so sweet

user ugh i love the piastris

mclaren my favourite actress marries my team's driver and i'm not even invited to the wedding ���� why do bad things happen to me😭😭

user atp i need to go to the oscar piastri and tom holland school of manifestation

user i get tom because of the obvious but why Oscar?

user because i need to end up with matthew gray gubler or i will die

user so real of you

user added context bcz op's not adding it but there's a youtube video of a younger oscar mentioning that yn is his celeb crush

user WHAT? so nobody was going to mention this to me??

user i can send you the link?

user SEND ME THAT! SEND ME THAT!

user me too!!!

user me 3

user here's the link for anyone who wants to know : https://youtu.be/5cfbKEK5gzU?si=HwTsDDBAjF8stXly

user you're a doll !

user this is the hardest of hard launches😵‍💫

user ugh i love seeing gorgeous people together

user i would kill for this type of wedding

user I swear if they've linked up just to do this prank, i will commend them for the dedication to the bit but i will also lose my mind

user i won't believe this until i see a marriage certificate

user what in the snowbunny mind control 🫣

user very on brand i fear

user lord please, when will it be my turn🙏🏼

zendaya beautiful bride, beautiful wedding, beautiful day

user i just know she slayed

user call it a jlo concert ticket because I'm not buying it🙂‍↔️

user nae nae i know this is you

mclaren wow, so nobody told admin that oscar was dating yn and is now *checks notes* MARRIED to her... fake! ALL OF YOU

user don't worry admin, we all know how you feel

user swear i would've told you had i known🤞

user I feel like I'm in a mass hallucination

user no shade, it's all that shrooms n weed.

user you saying no shade doesn't mean shit and also doesn't mean you can publicly air out my business

user and yet i said what i said.

user best believe i'll be at your door in ten minutes

user oh oh oh oh oh shiver me timbers, girl please, you not gon do nothing.

user OK EVERYBODY GO HOME, APRIL FOOLS IS CANCELLED

user sure i knew they knew each other because they're celebrities and yn attends races when she can but this is insane

tomholland2013 you're joking

user we know you were there!!!

user is this gaslighting? am i being gaslighted right now? cause there's absolutely no way

user no, that's what your boyfriend does to you everytime you catch him cheating. this is real, keep up.

user UNPROVOKED?!?

user everyone on twitter who said i was crazy for shipping this was gagged🙂‍↕️

mclaren even lando knew??? omfg they hate me

lando what's that supposed to mean?

user that you're not very reliable and you can't keep secrets, pick one🤷‍♀️

lando er, don't you mean or?

user no.

user say sike right now, i'm begging you

user what is up with all of my favourite internet people and announcements on april fools??? like do they want me to go insane 😭😭

user okay

user they definitely posted this and immediately turned their phones off

user can't say i blame them

user I'd do the same

user saw a tweet about this and had to come running to see if it was true

user I'll believe it’s a prank until they both confirm it every day for the next few years

user "everyone who thinks this is real is so dumb" ok shut up, either it's not real and you can appreciate the prank or it is real and you're still not better than everyone else

youruser and oscarpiastri has added to their story.

user: see, you could convince five of your friends to get dressed up so i don't even know what's going on right now

user: like i said, unless there's a marriage certificate, i do not believe it😪

user: i won't believe it and i won't accept it

user: this is such a great bit, next april fools' joke should be pregnancy!

pcyren: i think i did a good job at making the dresses blue but don't look too closely ����

user: a day i will continuously try to erase from my mind

user: my sister's gonna be devastated by this, can't wait to tell her😈

user: you're actually married? diva down✊😔

bridesmaiduser: ugh we look so good 😊

user: women>>>

user: what a beautiful venue

user: I’m going to carry on with my day and pretend this isn’t true

user: so jealous

bridesmaid2user: so lucky to be apart of your beautiful day❤️

user: this makes me feel so lonely, but congratulations on your (real) marriage

user: just cause you rented a venue doesnt make you married!!

user: you're lucky you got to her before me

logansargent: with the amount of alcohol available I'm surprised i didn't forget my own name

user: insert I don't need sleep, I need answers meme

tagged : oscarpiastri, officiant

Liked by oscarpiastri, bestfrienduser and others

youruser yes we are actually married. sorry to everyone who wants him, the boy is mine💋

View all 2 328 comments

user i feel like I've been stabbed

user i've been stabbed, this is worse actually 😀

user you're taking the piss

user can we talk about how good you look!!!!

user To Japanese denim?!!??! OH😭

user never dedicating that song for NO ONE

user especially not for a man😔

user right😭😭

user sooo happy for you guys... but seriously, on the phone that i pay for is crazy

user i know that man don't play about you

user me and pookie

user girl what❓ your man stay playing in your face

user glad this wasn't a prank, genuinely happy you guys are together ❤️

user girl, the boy in question said he sees god in your eyes, you won

bestfrienduser guys this is a joke, she's actually married to me and we just had oscar fill in for the prank

youruser you play too much

user you know I'd actually believe this

oscarpiastri yeah absolutely, thanks for letting me be apart of the special moment🙏

user i've had a few days to come to terms with this and i still can't believe this is real, like this is the timeline im in 🤯

user reacted '👍🏽' to your message

user this took me out

user real

user now you're just flexing on us and i don't mind it🤷‍♀️

user Oh how I love this song

oscarpiastri i only want you, can't even think about anyone else

youruser i'm obsessed with you.

user how i want my man

user may a love like this find me

user okay, you've convinced me, congratulations on your marriage🫶

user still don't see a marriage certificate 🥱

user ITS REAL?!?!

rachelzegler wait-

user just opened this app btw

oscarpiastri my wife everybody!!!

youruser my husband!!!!

user ofc he's a wife guy, love that 🤭

zendaya they're so in love it's sickening

youruser nawtt the woman who gushed about how in love she is with her partner only yesterday, unprovoked mind you

user real lover girls🙂‍↕️

zendaya and i stand by my words

user okay, i checked out the wedding officiant's page and it seems legit, they're actually married you guys

user sometimes you really just have to say damn and scroll

charlesleclerc oh my god you guys, I thought this was just for the bit, can't believe that was a real ceremony

user you're not funny, the jokes over😶

user Ariana Grande mention🚨🚨🚨

oscarpiastri has added to their story.

user: you're not special, i also see god in her eyes, in fact i cry because she's so beautiful

user: you're so real for this

user: i believe this how every man should think about his wife *olivia wilde nodding gif*

user: and i was right

youruser: still can't believe i get to wake up next to you

oscarpiastri: best feeling in the world

user: yeah, I'd be bragging about the fact that i married her every chance i get

user: you know, you're actually kinda funny sometimes. catches me off guard

user: drop the manifestation technique king🙏

user: you're the only man who deserves rights

and also my boyfriend

user: she's so gujdehnht. you're so lucky

user: wishing y'all a lifetime of happiness

user: Oscar how could you do this to me? this was supposed to be us ever since we locked eyes in a mall that one time. I don't know how you could betray me and just go on your day like what we had didn't matter.

user: life is so crazy, one day im shipping you and the next you're married

user: saw the interview, read the article and I'm still shocked

youruser has added to their story.

[sleepy-grav3]

We Became Heroes Because You Didn't

The Justice League don't specialize in much. If you ask them, they'd say otherwise. Unless they're one of the Bats, because they acknowledge that, especially with magic. They hate it, but they have connections and will at least ask for more details to deal with the situation at hand. Though they'll need proof.

That's the thing really. Proof. Because how are you going to get proof of something if everything gets repaired by the end? Or maybe you're the villain here according to the public. Or maybe everything you say is just plain crazy that nobody even knows what's going on from the start!

It was only when another group was formed when everything became clear. They were frowned upon, unknown, spoke nonsense, and never asked for help. They were the survivors that played hero. They were the shadowed version of the Justice League.

They were Justice League: Dark

A fanfic (or multiple small ones grouped together?) that isn't really about them joining forces, but more about the discovery of more dangerous territory that's being handled by kids/teens. Lift some weight for these kids. They really want a safe net by now in their hero careers.

Like- maybe a few of these wouldn't be the JL's fault. Maybe it was the government (at least for the US). Like Danny Phantom and Gravity Falls mentions the government, maybe they blocked off those regions from outside connections.

I feel like it would be funny if maybe Constantine just ends up collecting kids like Batman with his.

They're just kids! Itty bitty toddlers. It's supposed to be our job to take care o' that shit, ain't it?

And JLD now has a bunch of young professionals cause what the fuck, kid. Why do you know this??? Ya know? Maybe the JL just randomly finds these things, calls Constantine after Zatanna fails to know wtf is going on, and he just calls over a kid. Or a group of them.

JL: We need a professional, why is there a child here?

Constantine: Cause even when you fuckers ignored their calls for help, they still at least try to help where they can

JL: We never-

Constantine: Shut your traps! School's in session

*Child tries to explain*

JL: You have to be kidding me. ___ doesn't exist.

Constantine: Oh bloody hell-

Child: And they wonder why they get more attention than us.

idk, I just like the idea of Constantine being a father for OP characters and desperately want a Young Justice League: Dark. I read a couple of Danny and/or Billy being adopted by him, but the cravings... And if it's a whole big crossover thing, that would be great. Tag me if you see or write about something like this. I wanna read too :)

Don't put too much hope in me writing it though, I'm seriously bad at continuing/finishing stuff. But if I do, I'll edit this post with links to whatever I write.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 346

So I’ve been thinkin’ about the game Pressure, and two things about the lore. Specifically Sebastian Solace’s lore. 

One, Sebastian after causing the lockdown by letting out most of the other creatures, has been in contact with a “rival company” giving information/data in exchange for (presumably) freedom. Now my first thought, curse my hyperfixations, is he could totally be in contact with someone associated with the JL, maybe Oracle, maybe someone else. Or even in desperation contacting a villain.

Two, part of the dna & whatever else he’s spliced with is redacted. And so it could hypothetically totally be ectoplasm. A not-quite halfa not-quite ghost and not-exactly liminal situation going on, but still. He interacts with us after we die too, he’s part of the ‘here’s what killed you’ screen. Which hypothetically means he could see ghosts. 

Do you see where I am going with these things? 

[first-frost-fallen-snow]

It all happened so fast. One minute he was tailing this man to make sure he wasn't Kira, the next he was married to him. Raye had been engaged before, but that didn't work out. Since then he couldn't fathom the thought of even dating someone new, it felt like a betrayal.

Logically, he knew that none of this was romantic. This was some stupid plan from the task force he wasn't allowed to know the details of. All he was told was to play house with a man he barely knew, that was terrified of him and the situation they were in. Raye knew all too well what it was like moving to Japan and being thrust into new and frankly horrific circumstances - that was him only a few years ago - so he did everything he could to accomodate.

Raye did what he thought was the best thing he could. He researched Ed's conditions so he knew how to react and what Ed would need in certain circumstances. He kept the house tidy, even cooked meals for Ed - despite their situation, he found small joys in the mundane. But he never forced Ed to interact with him, nor was Ed obligated to wear the ring. Like coaxing a cat, he showed signs of trust but did not coerce Ed into reciprocating. His personal rule of thumb was to act as if they were simply roommates.

Never had he thought married life would be like this. His initial plan was to marry Naomi. He wanted to meet her parents and earn their blessings. They'd buy a house and a yard - they even planned to have kids. Back then he could clearly see two children chasing eachother in the yard while he and Naomi sat together and watched. The rings would catch his eye, and he'd look at Naomi and think how did I get so lucky?

Opening his eyes, Raye broke this reverie. He didn't want to seem like he was awake, yet, since he was unsure if that would startle Ed. His gaze was drawn to his own ring, something that made his eyes prickle with tears that he quickly stifled. It wasn't that Ed was a bad man, or that Raye was particularly unhappy, he simply missed Naomi.

Not only that, but Raye was the kind of man to enjoy physical touch. He wasn't going to just cuddle up to Ed because they were married now. He didn't even know a single thing about Ed aside from the fact that he was a suspect. He was sure any attempts to get to know him would go down the drain. So he remained lonely, making sure not to sleep too close to Ed so he didn't cross any boundaries.

That was enough thinking for now, Raye supposed as he slowly sat up. He wasn't sure if Ed was awake yet, but he made sure to be quiet and tuck the blanket back in when he slipped out of bed. He picked up his own ring, fidgeting with it for a moment. He stared down at Ed, only finding himself feeling... pity. It wasn't Ed's fault they were in this situation - poor Ed must have been terrified. He must've missed home, where there was no Kira case and he could go about his day without a stranger in his house.

Raye let out a long sigh - though keeping it quiet as not to wake or upset Ed - and headed towards the closet to pick out an outfit. He wasn't going to change in front of Ed, nor would he imply vice versa. They may have been married, but he would rather be overly cautious of boundaries than be careless. He planned to take this outfit to the bathroom.

His cat, Soots, hopped up onto the bed, demanding attention as he passed by. He shushed her quietly, scooping her up to take her with him so she wouldn't wake Ed.

"We're married"

《 from Raye Penber @first-frost-fallen-snow because that would be the funniest route to me also sorry for like disappearing I was focusing on moving out and now my fatigue is killing me 》

Ed awoke for once not slumped over his keyboard, yet also not in the empty apartment he'd moved into when he first moved to Japan. Though he supposed technically, the apartment he was in belonged to him, as did the bed he lay in, though both truly belonged to the man laying next to him. He squinted at the clock on his nightstand, at red LED numbers so blurry, only years of practice allowed him to decipher the time without having to put his glasses on. He still had time before he had to get up, a couple of hours before he had to get to work.

A flash of gold on the nightstand drew his eyes from the clock to the ring next to his glasses. It was the only piece of jewelry he owned, and far more expensive than anything he would ever purchase for himself. There was a similar ring on the other nightstand on the opposite side of the bed that belonged to the other occupant--Raye Penber.

Ed... still didn't know what to make of his new situation, let alone the man he was now legally bound to. He didn't hate him, certainly, though whether he trusted him was yet to be decided. Their marriage hadn't been Ed's idea, nor had it been Raye's. A necessity to facilitate the Kira investigation, it had been called, and Ed had only begrudgingly agreed to it for fear of opposition somehow being used against him as evidence and landing him in prison.

Thought of their marriage left an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He'd sworn when he got his job at Encom, and finally escaped his father's control that he would never put himself in any sort relationship where there was a power imbalance and they were not equals. He wouldn't put himself in a situation where he could be abused again. And yet here he was, a foreigner, far from anyone he could call a friendly face, barely understanding the language and culture, and though their partnership was supposed to be one of equals, it didn't feel that way.

Not that he had anyone on the other side of the Pacific he could call for help if he was able, anyway. His therapist, maybe. Though he didn't trust that the call wouldn't be monitored. Or an old rival, if he was desperate.

He felt trapped. He was relying on a man he barely knew to keep him from being falsely accused of mass murder. He was at risk, not just from his partner, but from the people in charge of the investigation as well, People he felt like were treating the investigation as nothing more than a game, where both his and his partner's lives were nothing more than disposable pawns.

How strange it was, that such a tiny band of metal could hold so much meaning. To others, it would have been a symbol of joy as bright as it's polished surface, but to Ed it had just replaced the physical handcuffs that had bound him to his legal partner to with a symbolic one.

[anxiety-prime-max]

The Cut That Always Bleeds

A/N: Had this chapter in mind since I've thought of smokeshow, don't know if I'll write that but here you go! A marvel x spn crossover! Part of Smokeshow but can be read as a standalone!

Smokeshow Masterlist

Summary: Your world tilted on its axis. "Sam's dead," you said automatically, staring at the photograph as if you could will it to change. It had been over a year since he'd died, since Dean had chosen Lisa and Ben over you, since you'd walked away from hunting and back into the arms of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Pairing: Ex!Dean Winchester x Agent!Hunter!Reader

Word Count: 10k approx Warnings: Kidnapping, Imprisonment, Emotional Distress, Mentions of Death / Resurrection, Angst, Violence, Torture, Language

Dean woke up to a piercing throb in his head and an uncomfortable weight on his wrists. He blinked several times, his eyes struggling to adjust to the dim lighting. As his vision cleared, he saw his younger brother Sam to his left and his supposedly dead grandfather Samuel Campbell on his right. Both were unconscious, chained to chairs similar to his own.

The room was sparse but oddly well-maintained—not the typical abandoned warehouse or dingy basement most monsters preferred. The walls were a sterile white, the floor polished concrete. An industrial light fixture hung from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows across their faces. This place looked like it had a budget behind it.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, testing the restraints. The metal bit into his skin as he twisted his wrists, searching for any weakness.

What made his stomach knot wasn't just the situation—it was the realization that his captors had been thorough. Every hidden weapon he normally carried was gone: the lock pick in his boot heel, the silver knife usually strapped to his ankle, the small backup pistol normally tucked into his waistband. Even the paperclip he habitually kept in his jacket pocket. Whoever had them knew their routines.

Dean's eyes fixed on the small camera mounted in the corner of the room. The red light blinked steadily, someone watching their every move. He stared directly into it, letting his defiance show even as fear churned in his gut.

Sam groaned beside him, consciousness returning slowly. "Dean?" he asked, voice thick with disorientation.

"Yeah," Dean rasped. "Still here." He studied his brother carefully, checking for injuries. Besides a small cut above his eyebrow, Sam seemed intact.

"You remember anything?" Sam asked, blinking hard as he took in their surroundings, his hunter's instincts kicking in despite the fog of whatever drug they'd been given.

"We were grabbed," Dean muttered. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness. "You okay?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah, just... fuzzy. Head hurts like hell."

"How long have we been out?" Sam asked, trying to rotate his wrists within the cuffs, wincing at the raw skin already forming.

Dean glanced at the window, noting the position of sunlight filtering through the blinds. "Few hours, I'd guess. Last I remember, we were walking back after I got the cure. It was around midnight then."

"So they know," Samuel said grimly. "About vampires, about hunters. This isn't random."

"No," Dean agreed, "this is targeted. Professional. Question is—by who?" A cold weight settled in his chest as possibilities flashed through his mind: demons, angels, any number of supernatural creatures with grudges. Or worse, humans with knowledge of their world. Those were often the most dangerous.

"Could be anyone," Sam sighed. "We're not exactly short on enemies."

"Crowley?" Samuel suggested.

Dean shook his head. "Not his style. He'd be in here gloating by now."

A heavy silence fell over the room as each man retreated into his thoughts, calculating odds and possibilities.

"You know what I keep thinking?" Dean finally said, his voice quiet.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"This is the kind of situation where we could use..." Dean's voice trailed off, unable to say your name aloud. The wound was still too fresh, the guilt too heavy. He'd made his choice a year ago, walked away from hunting, from the life. From you. For a shot at normal with Lisa and Ben.

And here he was, right back in it. The cruel irony wasn't lost on him.

Sam's expression softened with understanding. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. "She always was good with the impossible situations."

"Who are you talking about?" Samuel asked.

Neither brother answered.

The sparring room at the S.H.I.E.L.D facility echoed with the sounds of combat. You moved with precision, driving your knee lightly into Ward's ribs—enough pressure to make a point without causing injury. In one fluid motion, you hooked your leg around his ankle and sent him tumbling to the mat, following him down to pin his hands above his head, your breathing barely elevated while his came in ragged gasps.

"I kinda like this," Ward flirted, a smirk playing across his lips despite his defeat. "Reminds me of last week."

The memory flashed unbidden—vodka burning your throat, his hands in your hair, the desperate attempt to feel something, anything besides the hollow ache that had become your constant companion. The morning after, you'd slipped out before dawn, avoiding his gaze in the hallways for days.

You didn't bother responding to his comment, simply released his wrists and pushed yourself up, walking toward your gear. The towel was rough against your skin as you wiped away sweat, your mind already drifting elsewhere—back to memories you'd been trying to drown in work and training and meaningless encounters.

"You're even quieter than usual today," Ward noted, coming up behind you. His voice held something between concern and frustration.

"Not in the mood for talking," you replied flatly, taking a long drink from your water bottle. The cold liquid did nothing to soothe the perpetual tightness in your chest.

"You're never in the mood for talking," he countered, grabbing his own towel. "But you used to at least pretend."

You stared at your reflection in the mirrored wall. Dark circles under your eyes, skin paler than it should be. You looked like someone haunted, and perhaps you were, haunted by green eyes and a crooked smile that you couldn't seem to exorcise no matter how hard you tried.

You weren't exactly emotionally available, and no one could blame you for it either, since the one you thought was the love of your life left you for someone better, someone more normal, someone who wasn't as fucked in the head as you were.

So you came back to S.H.I.E.L.D, asked them to take you on again, like you had when Dean first died and went to hell. You came here to escape the memories that had haunted you back then, and now when Sammy died, you were back here again—you didn't think you could feel pain like you did when Dean had died, but this was worse, so much worse, because he was alive, he was okay—he just wasn't yours. He didn't want to be yours. As soon as he had a semblance of an option, he chose someone over you.

"What do you want from me, Ward?" you finally asked, voice low and tired.

Ward stepped closer, his expression softening. "I just want to know if you're okay."

"I'm fine," you lied automatically, the words so practiced they almost sounded true.

"Bullshit," he replied softly. "Nobody who spends sixteen hours a day in the gym or on missions is fine. Nobody who drinks themselves to sleep is fine. Nobody who looks at the world like it's already ended is fine."

Something hot and dangerous flared in your chest. "I don't remember asking for your psychological evaluation."

"No, you just asked for everything else," he shot back, frustration breaking through. "My body, my time; but god forbid anyone actually try to reach the person underneath."

You were saved from responding when a nervous-looking intern appeared at the doorway, clipboard clutched to his chest like a shield. "Agent Coulson would like to see the two of you in conference room eight," he announced, his voice wavering slightly. "He says it's a mission. Priority level."

You and Ward exchanged glances, the tension between you momentarily forgotten.

"We'll be right there," you told the intern, who nodded quickly before scurrying away.

"Think it's serious?" Ward asked, grabbing his own towel, professional mask sliding back into place.

"Coulson doesn't call meetings over parking violations," you replied, gathering your things. "Come on."

The walk to the conference room was silent, your mind already shifting into work mode, the only place where you felt anything close to peace these days. Mission parameters, threat assessments, tactical strategies- these things made sense in a world where nothing else did.

When you pushed open the door, you found Rumlow, Romanoff, and Barton already seated around the table. The air held that particular tension that always preceded a high-stakes assignment.

"Wow," you muttered under your breath as you slid into an empty chair. "They're pulling out the big guns for this one."

Clint caught your eye and gave you a subtle nod. He'd been like a brother to you for years, and when he'd brought Natasha in from the cold, the three of you had become inseparable—"The Three Musketeers," as Coulson called you.

"You look like hell," Natasha whispered as you took the seat beside her.

"Always the charmer," you replied with a ghost of a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

"Now that we're all here," Coulson began, his expression serious as he entered the room, "I'll get straight to the point. This isn't a standard op."

"When is it ever with this crew?" Rumlow quipped, leaning back in his chair with casual arrogance.

Coulson didn't smile. "Three individuals on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s watchlist have disappeared. We believe they've been captured."

"How do you know?" Clint asked, his posture straightening, eyes alert.

"Because we received a message demanding ransom," Coulson replied, his eyes flickering toward you for just a moment, but long enough to send a chill down your spine.

"What's the demand?" you asked, reaching for the file in the center of the table, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in your chest.

Coulson hesitated, then said simply: "You."

The room fell silent. You felt everyone tense, could sense their eyes on you as you slowly opened the file. Three familiar faces stared back at you: Sam and Dean Winchester, and a third man you'd never met but whose name you recognized instantly—Samuel Campbell.

Your world tilted on its axis. "Sam's dead," you said automatically, staring at the photograph as if you could will it to change. It had been over a year since he'd died, since Dean had chosen Lisa and Ben over you, since you'd walked away from hunting and back into the arms of S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Apparently not," Natasha said softly beside you, her hand coming to rest on your arm.

You looked up to find Coulson's gaze steady but apologetic. In that moment, understanding crashed over you like a wave, he'd known. Known that Sam was alive, and hadn't told you.

"How long?" you asked, your voice deadly calm even as your insides churned with betrayal.

"Almost a year," Coulson admitted. "We've been monitoring the situation."

"A year," you repeated, feeling Natasha's hand tighten on your arm, subtle but supportive. "And you didn't think I deserved to know?"

"It wasn't my call," Coulson said, though his expression suggested he might have disagreed with that decision. "The order came from higher up."

You swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth. "Fury?"

Coulson's slight nod confirmed it.

"Why tell me now?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

"Because now we need you," Coulson said simply. "Whoever has them knows about your connection to the Winchesters. They want to trade—you for them."

"What's so special about these guys anyway?" Rumlow asked, leaning forward to peer at the file. "They're on our watchlist, why?"

"They're hunters," Natasha explained before you could. "Specialists in supernatural threats."

"And apparently someone valuable enough to S.H.I.E.L.D. that we're having this conversation," Ward added, studying your face carefully.

You stared at the photos, mind racing. Sam was alive. Had been alive for a year. And Dean... had he known? Had he chosen to keep this from you too?

"We have a plan," Coulson said, pulling you back from the edge of your spiraling thoughts.

"I'm listening," you said, crossing your arms, fighting to keep your expression neutral despite the storm raging inside.

"We make the exchange, with conditions," Coulson explained. "You'll be wired, tracked, and we'll have teams in position. The moment the Winchesters are clear, we extract you."

"And if something goes wrong?" Clint asked, the concern in his voice unmistakable.

"Then we move to plan B," Coulson replied.

"Which is?" you pressed.

"We take out everyone except you and the targets," Rumlow said with a predatory smile.

As the others began discussing strategy and extraction points, your mind drifted to the last time you'd seen Dean, his face when he told you he was going to Lisa, that he was done with hunting, done with the life. Done with you. The pain and betrayal on your face that you'd tried so hard to hide. The way he'd looked away first, unable to meet your eyes.

You wondered what he would think when he saw you again, if he even wanted to see you at all. You wondered if Sam knew you'd never been told he was alive. You wondered how much more your heart could take before it shattered completely.

Before you could sink your mind deeper in that wormhole, you heard a name, Blackwood.

You stopped them from discussing further. "Blackwood?" you asked Coulson, your body suddenly alert.

"Ellen Blackwood. She is the one who made the demands. You know her?" he asked, looking at you with renewed interest.

You closed your eyes, trying to think back to the case years ago. The memories came flooding back with startling clarity—the way they always did when it came to your past cases. You remembered every detail, every death, every mistake, every victory. It was both a blessing and a curse.

"Blackwood," you repeated, opening your eyes. "Yes, I know her, or rather, knew her brother."

"Care to share with the class?" Rumlow prompted when you fell silent.

You remembered it clearly, remembered every single one of them. Fury had assigned you the case years ago—an Ex-S.H.I.E.L.D agent who had gone rogue and killed several of their agents, taking help from a witch. That's why Fury had called you in—you didn't really get involved until it was supernatural back then, not wanting to get caught up in S.H.I.E.L.D politics, but you had needed something from Fury: information about the faith healer that saved Dean all those years ago, in exchange for completing this mission.

"It was a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D., I wasn’t officially working for them back then." you explained, eyes fixed on the table. "James Blackwood, Ellen's brother. Former agent turned rogue. He'd had some arrangement with a witch, started eliminating his old team members one by one."

"I remember that case," Clint said with a frown. "How many dead?"

“One hundred and fourty seven people over the course of five years” You told them, and took in the horrified expressions “It started when he still worked here. Then he left and his old teammates started dying, so they investigated, they couldn’t do much with what they found, so they sent me.” You replied, looking at all of them. All of them took betrayal seriously, and if this asshole was killing people, people who trusted him, then he didn’t deserve to live. 

"Fury brought me in because of the witch connection. I had just met the Winchester boys back then, but I'd known their father for way longer. I felt I owed it to him, to his boys, to help them with something they were dealing with. So I made a deal with Fury—information they needed in exchange for taking care of his witch problem."

Clint calling out your name brought you out of your head. "I killed her brother," you said flatly, looking down at the file in front of you. "He was using a witch to kill people. I put him down like the rabid dog he was."

"This explains why they want you," Nat shrugged, her eyes filled with anger at Blackwood.

"Revenge," Ward concluded. "Classic."

"It's been years," you said, shaking your head. "Why now?"

"Because the Winchesters are back in play," Coulson suggested. "They've been more active lately. Perhaps she's been watching, waiting for the right leverage."

Your chest tightened with a toxic mixture of emotions: fear for Sam and Dean, anger at being kept in the dark about Sam's return, anxiety about seeing Dean again after all this time, and underneath it all, a bitter, unwelcome spark of hope.

"So what's the plan?" you asked, straightening your shoulders. "When do we move?"

"We have twenty-four hours to respond," Coulson said. "The exchange is set for tomorrow night."

Natasha's hand found yours under the table, squeezing gently. "You don't have to do this," she said quietly. "We can find another way."

But you both knew there wasn't one. Not really. Not in time.

"Yes, I do," you replied, meeting her gaze. "I owe them that much."

And maybe, a small voice whispered in the back of your mind, maybe you owed it to yourself too. To finally face the ghosts that had been haunting you for the past year.

"Then it's settled," Coulson said with a nod. "Prep begins immediately. Barton, Romanoff, you'll be primary backup. Ward and Rumlow, you'll coordinate the perimeter team. We move at 2200 hours tomorrow."

As the others began to file out of the room, Coulson caught your arm.

"A moment," he said quietly.

You waited until the others had left before saying, "You should have told me."

"I know," he admitted. "For what it's worth, I argued that you deserved to know."

"Doesn't change anything," you replied, the betrayal still raw.

"No," he agreed. "But there's something else you should know before you go in there."

You steeled yourself. "What?"

"Sam Winchester doesn't have a soul."

The words hit you like a physical blow. "What are you talking about?"

"When he came back, something was... wrong," Coulson explained. "Our intel suggests he's been hunting with this Samuel Campbell for the past year. Dean only rejoined them recently, after leaving the civilian life behind."

Your mind raced. "How is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Coulson admitted. "This is beyond even S.H.I.E.L.D.'s understanding. But you need to be prepared. The Sam Winchester in that room may not be the man you remember."

You nodded slowly, processing this new information. "Thank you for telling me."

As you walked out of the conference room, your mind was already shifting into mission mode—compartmentalizing emotions, focusing on tactics, on survival. It was what you did best, after all. It was how you'd survived this long.

But underneath it all, a voice whispered: Dean. You're going to see Dean again.

And despite everything—the pain, the betrayal, the year of silence—your heart still skipped a beat at the thought.

Dean paced the length of the small room for what felt like the hundredth time, muscles tense with restless energy. They'd been moved from the chairs to a more comfortable but equally secure setup, a room with two beds, basic facilities, and a door that remained stubbornly locked.

"Wearing a hole in the floor won't get us out of here any faster," Samuel remarked from where he sat on one of the beds, methodically checking the bandage on his forearm where their captors had drawn blood.

"Neither will sitting on your ass," Dean shot back.

Sam looked up from his position by the window, where he'd been studying the security measures. "Dean," he said calmly, "you need to conserve your energy. We don't know when we'll get a chance to move."

Dean knew Sam was right, but the enforced stillness was making his skin crawl. Three days they'd been here, with regular meals and no abuse beyond the initial capture, which made no sense. Monsters tortured; humans interrogated. These people were doing neither.

"What kind of kidnapper provides three squares and medical attention?" Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"The kind that needs us alive and well for something," Samuel replied.

The sound of footsteps outside drew their attention. The door swung open to reveal a woman flanked by two armed guards. She was tall, elegant in an austere way, with dark hair pulled back in a severe bun and eyes that seemed to hold no emotion whatsoever.

"Mr. Winchester. The elder one, I presume?" she said, her gaze fixed on Dean.

"Depends who's asking," Dean replied, tension radiating from every line of his body.

"Ellen Blackwood," she offered with a cold smile. "Though the name likely means nothing to you."

"Should it?" Dean asked, eyes flicking to the guards and their weapons, calculating odds.

"No," Ellen replied. "But it meant something to someone you once knew quite well."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Ellen said, "that your freedom has been arranged. Conditionally, of course."

"What's the catch?" Sam asked, his voice lacking the emotional inflection it should have had.

Ellen's eyes traveled to Sam, and something like distaste flickered across her features. "The catch, Mr. Winchester, is an exchange. One life for three."

"We're not interested in anyone dying for us," Dean said firmly.

Ellen laughed, a sound devoid of warmth. "How noble. But unnecessary. You see, the exchange has already been agreed to. Your former associate has quite the hero complex."

Dean's heart stuttered in his chest as understanding dawned. There was only one person she could mean. "No," he said, his voice rough with sudden fear. "Whatever deal you think you've made, it's off."

"That's not your decision to make," Ellen replied calmly. "The exchange happens tonight. I simply came to inform you of the arrangement... and to give you this."

She nodded to one of the guards, who stepped forward and handed Dean a small device.

"What is it?" Samuel asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

"A live feed," Ellen explained. "I thought you might want to see your rescuer in action. Consider it a courtesy."

With that, she turned and left, the guards following and the door locking behind them with a definitive click.

Dean looked down at the device in his hand, a small tablet that flickered to life at his touch. The screen showed a security feed of what appeared to be the facility's entrance. And walking through it, flanked by men in tactical gear, was you.

"Son of a bitch," Dean breathed, his face draining of color.

"Is that..." Sam began, moving closer to look at the screen.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed, his voice tight. "It's her."

Samuel peered over their shoulders. "Who is she? Some hunter?"

Dean didn't answer, couldn't answer. His eyes were fixed on your face—the face he'd tried so hard to forget over the past year. You looked different, harder, colder, your movements precise and controlled as you walked through the security checkpoint. Your hair was different, your clothes were different, but the way you carried yourself was unmistakable.

"She works for the S.H.I.E.L.D now," Sam said when Dean remained silent. "She left hunting after..." He trailed off, glancing at his brother.

"After I told her to go," Dean finished, guilt churning in his stomach. "After I chose Lisa and Ben."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "And now she's walking into a trap for you? Must have been some goodbye."

Dean shot his grandfather a glare that could have melted steel.

"We need to get out of here," he said, turning to Sam. "Now. Before she reaches us."

"Why?" Sam asked, genuinely perplexed. "She's obviously here to get us out. Why not let her?"

"Because it's a trap, Sam!" Dean exploded. "This Blackwood woman, she's not just going to let us walk out of here. She wants revenge for something, and she's using us as bait."

"For what?" Samuel pressed.

Dean ran a hand down his face. "I don't know. But I'm not letting her sacrifice herself for us. Not again."

The unspoken history hung heavy in the air between them. All the times you'd put yourself in harm's way for the Winchesters. All the scars you carried because of it. Dean had sworn the last time would be the last—it was part of why he'd walked away. To keep you safe. To give you a chance at something better.

And now here you were again, walking straight into danger for him.

"We're getting out of here," Dean said with renewed determination. "And we're going to find her before Blackwood does."

In the tactical van parked two blocks from the Blackwood facility, you checked your weapons one last time. Standard S.H.I.E.L.D. issue sidearm, plus your own personal arsenal: silver knife strapped to your ankle, holy water flask in your jacket pocket, and an angel blade concealed along your spine. Old habits died hard.

"Comms check," Natasha's voice came through your earpiece.

"Reading you," you replied, adjusting the fit.

"Remember the extraction plan," Clint said from the driver's seat. "Once the Winchesters are clear, head for the southeast exit. We'll be waiting."

You nodded, though anxiety gnawed at your insides. Ellen Blackwood had been specific in her demands: you alone, unarmed, or the deal was off. The weapons and backup were insurance, but if she was as thorough as her brother had been, she'd know they were there.

"If this goes sideways—" you began.

"It won't," Natasha cut you off. "But if it does, we've got your back. Always."

The simple declaration threatened to crack the careful composure you'd built over the years. These people—Natasha, Clint, Coulson—they'd become your family when your old one fell apart. They'd picked up the pieces Dean left behind.

"Time to move," Clint announced, checking his watch.

You took a deep breath, centering yourself. "Tell me about the building again."

"Three stories, underground parking level," Natasha recited. "Main entrance is north face. Security checkpoint, then a corridor leading to the central atrium. That's where the exchange is supposed to happen."

"And the Winchesters?"

"Being held on the second floor, east wing, according to the intel."

You nodded, committing the layout to memory. "If I'm not out in thirty minutes—"

"We're coming in," Clint finished. "Guns blazing if necessary."

"Try not to need us," Natasha added with a small smile. "Paperwork's a bitch when we have to explain bullet holes."

A ghost of a smile touched your lips. "I'll do my best."

With one final check of your equipment, you stepped out of the van into the cool night air. The walk to the Blackwood facility felt simultaneously too long and too short, your mind racing with possibilities and contingencies.

What would you say to Dean when you saw him? What could you possibly say after a year of silence? After he'd chosen someone else? After Sam had been alive all this time and no one had told you?

No. Focus. The mission came first. Feelings could wait.

The security guards at the entrance eyed you warily as you approached.

"I'm expected," you said simply.

One of them spoke into his radio, received confirmation, and nodded. "Arms out, please."

You complied with the cursory search, grateful they weren't being thorough enough to find your concealed weapons. They confiscated your visible sidearm, as expected, then escorted you through the entrance and down a long corridor.

The building was eerily quiet, your footsteps echoing on the polished floor. Your escort led you to a large central area—the atrium Natasha had mentioned, with a domed glass ceiling and minimalist furnishings. Ellen Blackwood stood in the center, flanked by her own security detail.

"Right on time," Ellen remarked as you approached. "I appreciate punctuality."

"Where are they?" you asked without preamble.

Ellen smiled, a cold expression that didn't reach her eyes. "Straight to business, then. They're being brought down as we speak. But first, I thought we might have a chat."

"I'm not here to chat," you replied coldly, your posture deceptively relaxed. "I'm here for the exchange. Bring them out."

Ellen's smile widened, something predatory in her eyes. "The exchange? Oh, I'm afraid there's been a slight change of plans."

You sensed the trap too late. The prick of a needle in your neck sent ice through your veins, your enhanced reflexes dulled by whatever drug was now coursing through your system. As you staggered, two guards moved in, catching your arms before you could reach for any of your concealed weapons.

"You didn't really think I'd let a S.H.I.E.L.D agent walk in here without precautions, did you?" Ellen asked, her voice distant through the growing fog in your mind. "I've been planning this for years."

Fighting against the drug's effects, you tried to activate your emergency beacon, but your fingers wouldn't respond. The room tilted and swayed, Ellen's face blurring in and out of focus before darkness claimed you entirely.

You woke to pain, sharp and insistent. Cold water dripped down your face as consciousness returned in agonizing increments. The room swam into focus—sterile white walls, harsh fluorescent lighting, the tang of antiseptic barely masking the metallic scent of blood. Your blood.

Your arms were secured above your head, shoulders screaming from supporting your weight. Your feet barely touched the ground, toes straining for purchase on the smooth concrete floor. The tactical suit you'd worn was torn in places, dark with blood both dried and fresh.

As your vision cleared, you realized you weren't alone in the room. Across from you, chained to chairs bolted to the floor, sat Sam, Dean, and Samuel Campbell. Dean's face was bruised, a split lip crusted with dried blood. He strained against his restraints when he saw your eyes open, panic written across his features.

"About time you joined us," Ellen's voice came from behind you as she stepped into view, a knife twirling between her fingers. Not just any knife—the same one you'd used to kill her brother. The irony wasn't lost on you.

You didn't respond, using the silence to assess your situation. The comms unit was gone, as were all your weapons. The wound in your side throbbed, caused by whatever they'd done while you were unconscious. But your mind was clear—the drug had worn off.

Your eyes met Sam's across the room. There was something calculating in his gaze, something cold that confirmed Coulson's warning about his missing soul. No emotion, just assessment. Samuel watched with wary interest, but Dean—Dean looked wrecked, his eyes never leaving your face.

"You know," Ellen continued, circling around to face you, "I've been telling her about my brother. About how I found him after she was done with him." The knife traced a line down your throat, not quite breaking skin. "Seven stab wounds. Throat cut. And for what?"

You finally spoke, your voice hoarse but steady. "Yeah, and he died like a fucking pussy."

The room went silent. Ellen's eyes widened with shocked rage before she backhanded you hard enough to split your lip. The metallic taste of blood flooded your mouth as your head snapped to the side.

"You shut your mouth," Ellen hissed.

You spat blood onto the floor, a cold smile curving your lips. "He killed 147 people in five years, good people, people that trusted him to have their backs." You met Ellen's gaze unflinchingly. "And he cried at the end. Begged. Hardly the soldier you're making him out to be."

Ellen's face contorted with fury as she drove the knife into your shoulder, a quick jab that had Dean roaring threats from across the room. You didn't make a sound, didn't even flinch, your eyes never leaving Ellen's face.

"You're lying," she snarled, twisting the blade before yanking it out.

"Read the mission report," you replied calmly, as though you weren't hanging by your wrists with blood streaming down your arm. "It's all there. Every pathetic detail."

Ellen slashed the knife across your midsection, opening a shallow cut that immediately began to seep blood through your already torn tactical gear. "My brother was a hero."

"Your brother was a coward who couldn't handle the job," you countered. "He broke under pressure and took out his failures on innocent people. Just like you're doing now."

The knife sliced again, this time across your thigh. Through the haze of pain, you heard Dean struggling violently against his restraints, the metal cuffs clanking against the chair.

"Stop it!" he shouted. "Ellen, this isn't going to bring your brother back!"

Ellen ignored him, her focus entirely on you. "I'm going to carve you apart inch by inch while they watch. And then I'm going to start on them."

You laughed, the sound hollow and cold. "You won't live that long."

"Is that a threat?" Ellen asked, pressing the tip of the knife beneath your eye. "From someone in your position?"

"It's a statement of fact," you replied. 

A flicker of unease crossed Ellen's face before she masked it with a sneer. "Your backup isn't coming. We've taken precautions."

"Not good enough ones," you said with certainty.

Ellen's jaw tightened as she stepped away from you, walking over to Dean. She pressed the bloodied knife—your blood—against his throat. "Maybe I should start with him? Would that loosen your tongue?"

"Go ahead," you said, your voice eerily detached. "One less complication in my life."

Dean's eyes widened slightly at your words, hurt flashing across his face before understanding dawned. He knew you were playing for time, trying to keep Ellen's attention focused on you rather than following through on her threats against them.

Ellen studied your face for a long moment before laughing. "You really have changed, haven't you? The woman I researched would have torn the world apart for him."

"That woman died a year ago," you replied flatly. "When he chose someone else."

The words hung in the air between you and Dean, weighted with a year's worth of unspoken pain and resentment. His expression crumpled, guilt written in every line of his face.

Ellen looked between you, a slow smile spreading across her features. "Oh, this is delicious. He doesn't know, does he? About what you've become?"

She turned to Dean, the knife still pressed against his throat. "Did you know your ex has the highest kill count of any S.H.I.E.L.D agent in the field this year? Thirty-seven confirmed eliminations in twelve months. They call her 'the Ghost' now. No hesitation, no mercy." Ellen's eyes gleamed with malicious delight. "She's more like my brother than she'd ever admit."

"She's nothing like your brother," Dean growled. "Your brother killed innocents. She protects them."

"Such loyalty," Ellen mocked. "Even after she just offered you up as a sacrifice."

A commotion outside the door drew Ellen's attention. Muffled shouts and what sounded like gunfire echoed from somewhere in the building. Her eyes narrowed as she pressed a hand to her earpiece, listening to a frantic report from one of her men.

"Secure the perimeter!" she snapped into the comm. "I don't care how, just keep them out!" She turned back to you, fury etched into every line of her face. "Your friends are persistent, I'll give them that."

"You have no idea," you replied, a cold smile playing at the corners of your bloodied lips.

Ellen turned toward the door, knife still in hand, her composure fracturing at the sounds of combat echoing through the building. "Looks like your friends didn't get the memo about coming alone," she snarled.

"I never come alone," you replied, your voice steady despite the pain radiating from your wounds.

In that moment of distraction, you made your move. With a sharp intake of breath, you pulled your body upward, using the chains as leverage to swing your legs up and wrap them around Ellen's neck in one fluid motion. The move sent fresh waves of agony through your wounded shoulder and abdomen, but adrenaline pushed it aside.

Ellen gasped, the knife clattering to the floor as her hands flew to your legs, trying desperately to break your hold. You tightened your thighs around her throat, twisting your body to use the momentum to your advantage.

"Stop her!" Ellen choked out to her two remaining guards who stood by the door.

They rushed forward, weapons raised, but you were already in motion. With a powerful twist of your hips, you used Ellen's body as a human shield. The first guard hesitated, unwilling to shoot his boss, and that hesitation cost him. You swung Ellen's body around, forcing her to collide with the guard. As they stumbled, you released your leg hold, dropping back to your hanging position for just a second before using the chains to swing yourself up again.

Your feet connected with the second guard's chest in a powerful kick that sent him flying backward into the wall with a sickening crack. He slumped to the floor, unconscious or worse.

Ellen was scrambling to her feet, gasping for air, her hand reaching for the fallen knife. You twisted your body, ignoring the screaming pain in your shoulders, and wrapped the chains around your wrists for better leverage. With a violent jerk, you pulled yourself up, the metal digging into your flesh as you strained against the restraints.

One of the bolts securing the chains to the ceiling groaned, then gave way with a metallic screech. Your right arm came free, the sudden release almost making you lose your balance. With one arm still chained, you swung down, your feet hitting the floor just as Ellen lunged with the knife.

You caught her wrist with your free hand, stopping the blade inches from your ribs. The force of her attack pushed you back against the wall, chains rattling. Ellen's face contorted with rage as she pressed the advantage, using her body weight to drive the knife closer.

"I've waited years for this," she hissed.

"You should have waited longer," you replied coldly, before smashing your forehead into her nose.

Blood sprayed as Ellen stumbled backward, momentarily stunned. You seized the opportunity, twisting your body and using the remaining chain as a pivot point to swing your legs up, wrapping them around Ellen's arm. With a vicious jerk, you heard the satisfying crack of bone breaking.

Ellen screamed, the knife falling from her useless fingers. You released her arm only to grab her by the throat with your free hand, squeezing just enough to keep her in place.

"Now listen carefully," you said, your voice dangerously quiet. "You're going to release them, or I'm going to finish what I started with your brother."

"Go to hell," Ellen spat, blood from her broken nose dripping down her face.

"Been there," you replied with a cold smile. "Didn't take."

With a swift, calculated movement, you slammed her head against the wall, rendering her unconscious. As her body slumped to the floor, you turned your attention to the remaining chain, searching for weaknesses in the link.

The first guard was stirring, reaching for his sidearm. Without hesitation, you used the chain as a whip, catching him across the face with enough force to send him back to unconsciousness.

Dean watched the entire sequence with a mixture of awe and horror, while Sam's expression remained analytically detached. Samuel's eyebrows were raised in grudging respect.

"Anyone got a paperclip?" you asked casually, as if you weren't bleeding from multiple wounds and hanging partially from a chain.

The door burst open and you tensed, before relaxing when you realised it was Ward.

Ward lowered his gun, his eyes quickly assessing the room before landing on you. "So," he said to Dean, his voice deceptively casual as he trained his weapon on Ellen, "you're the Dean Winchester."

"Ward," you acknowledged, relief coloring your voice despite your best efforts to remain detached. "You're late."

"Traffic was hell," he replied, stepping fully into the room. Behind him, you could see more S.H.I.E.L.D agents securing the corridor. "Looks like you started the party without us.” he commented before adding, “Romanoff and Barton are clearing the west wing. Should I be concerned that you're hanging from the ceiling?"

"Nothing I can't handle, you know I hate waiting." you replied, ignoring the blood dripping steadily onto the floor beneath you.

Ward holstered his weapon, moving quickly to where you hung. "Medical's on standby," he said as he reached up to cut through the ropes securing your wrists. "Try not to bleed out before they get here."

As the pressure on your shoulders released, pain shot through your arms like fire. You collapsed forward, Ward catching you before you hit the ground. He lowered you carefully to the floor, propping you against the wall as more agents flooded the room, some moving to free the Winchesters and Samuel.

"I had it under control," you muttered, pressing a hand against the wound in your side.

Ward's eyebrow arched skeptically. "Clearly."

Across the room, Dean was freed from his restraints. He immediately pushed past the agents tending to him, making a beeline for you. You tensed as he approached, your expression carefully blank despite the pain radiating through your body.

"Are you okay?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside you, hands hovering uncertainly as though afraid to touch you.

"I'm fine," you replied automatically, the lie obvious given the state of your body.

Dean's face was a storm of emotions—guilt, fear, concern, and something deeper that you refused to acknowledge. "You're not fine," he argued. "Jesus, look at you."

"Nothing that won't heal," you said dismissively, turning your attention to Ward. "Extraction plan?"

Ward nodded toward the door where Natasha had appeared, her expression darkening as she took in your condition. "Quinjet on the roof. We move as soon as Medical clears you for transport."

"I don't need clearance," you insisted, trying to push yourself up only to have both Ward and Dean reach out to stop you.

"Don't be stubborn," Dean said, his hand gentle but firm on your uninjured shoulder. "You've lost a lot of blood."

You jerked away from his touch, the movement sending fresh waves of pain through your battered body. "Don't," you warned, your voice low and cold. "Just... don't."

The hurt that flashed across his face should have given you satisfaction, but you felt nothing. The emotional walls you'd built over the past year were too thick, too necessary for survival.

Sam approached, his expression more curious than concerned as he surveyed the room. "We should move," he said pragmatically. "Ellen might have had more men in the building."

"Already cleared," Natasha reported moving in, her eyes never leaving you. "You look like hell."

"You should see the other guy," you quipped weakly.

"I did," she replied with a glance at Ellen's body. “Clean up is on the way.” 

The medical team arrived shortly after, their efficiency a stark contrast to the chaos that had preceded them. You winced as they examined your wounds, refusing the offered painkillers with a curt shake of your head.

"Three lacerations requiring immediate attention, possible shoulder dislocation, multiple contusions," the lead medic reported to Ward, who hovered nearby. "She needs to be moved to the Quinjet now."

"I can walk," you insisted, already pushing yourself to your feet despite the protests of both the medic and Dean.

Natasha stepped forward, her expression brooking no argument. "Either you let them carry you, or I sedate you myself. Your choice."

You glared at her, but the look she returned was equally unyielding. With a resigned sigh, you nodded to the medics, who quickly moved to prepare a stretcher.

"The Winchesters and Campbell come with us," you said to Ward, your tone making it clear this wasn't a request.

Ward nodded. "Already arranged. Coulson wants a full debrief anyway."

As the medics secured you to the stretcher, your eyes met Dean's across the room. His face was a mask of conflicted emotions—concern warring with guilt, relief tangled with regret. You looked away first, unable to bear the weight of that gaze.

The journey to the Quinjet passed in a blur of pain and the clinical voices of the medical team working to stabilize you. By the time you were loaded onto the aircraft, your tactical gear had been cut away, replaced with temporary bandages and an IV drip that you'd finally relented to.

The interior of the Quinjet was dimly lit, the hum of the engines a familiar comfort as Clint prepared for takeoff from the pilot's seat. The Winchesters and Samuel were seated across from you, Dean's eyes never leaving your face despite your determined efforts to ignore him.

Natasha sat beside you, her presence a silent support as the medical team continued their work. "Ellen?" you asked quietly.

"In custody," she confirmed. "Along with the remaining members of her security team. Fury wants them interrogated at the Triskelion."

You nodded, wincing as the medic tightened a bandage around your thigh. "Any casualties on our side?"

"Two agents wounded, none critical," Ward reported from nearby. "Could have been worse."

"Much worse," Natasha agreed, her eyes flickering briefly to the Winchesters.

The Quinjet lifted off, the slight jolt sending fresh pain through your battered body. You bit back a groan, unwilling to show weakness, especially with Dean watching so intently.

"You should rest," Natasha advised, noting the strain on your face. "We've got a two-hour flight back to base."

"I'm fine," you insisted, though the words lacked conviction even to your own ears.

A shadow fell across you as Dean rose from his seat, approaching despite the warning look Natasha shot him. He knelt beside your stretcher, keeping a respectful distance but close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, the same eyes that had haunted your dreams for the past year.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "For coming for us. You didn't have to do that."

You stared at the ceiling of the jet, unwilling to meet his gaze. "It was a mission, Dean. Nothing more."

A flash of hurt crossed his features before he masked it. "Right," he said, clearly not believing you. "Still... thank you."

Before you could respond, Sam appeared beside his brother, his expression clinically curious rather than genuinely concerned. This close, the difference was jarring—the Sam you remembered had been empathetic, kind. This version studied you like an interesting specimen.

"You work for S.H.I.E.L.D now," he stated rather than asked. "Since when?"

"Since you died," you replied coolly. "Or didn't, apparently."

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the steady beeping of the medical equipment monitoring your vitals.

"I hear you've been busy," Sam continued, seemingly oblivious to the tension. "Thirty-seven confirmed kills this year?"

Dean shot his brother a warning look. "Sam—"

"It's forty-two now," you corrected flatly. "Ellen's brother wasn't the only monster I've put down."

Sam's lips quirked in what might have been approval. "Impressive."

"That's enough," Natasha intervened, her voice carrying a subtle threat as she positioned herself between you and the Winchesters. "She needs rest, not an interrogation."

Dean nodded, rising to his feet. "Sorry," he said, directing the apology to you rather than Natasha. "We'll talk later?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken history. You closed your eyes, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming. "Maybe."

As they returned to their seats, you felt Natasha's hand on your uninjured arm, a gentle squeeze of support. "You okay?" she asked quietly.

"No," you admitted, the honesty surprising even you. "But I will be."

The rest of the flight passed in relative silence, the hum of the engines lulling you into a state somewhere between consciousness and sleep. The painkillers had finally begun to take effect, dulling the sharp edges of your injuries to a more manageable ache.

When the Quinjet touched down at the S.H.I.E.L.D facility, you were immediately transferred to the medical wing, Natasha and Clint flanking your stretcher like protective shadows. The last thing you saw before the doors closed was Dean's face, watching you with an expression that spoke of all the words left unsaid between you.

Hours later, patched up and stubbornly refusing to remain in the medical bed, you stood in one of the observation rooms, watching through the one-way glass as Coulson debriefed the Winchesters and Samuel Campbell. Your body protested every movement, the fresh stitches pulling uncomfortably beneath the clean S.H.I.E.L.D-issued clothing, but you ignored the pain with practiced ease.

The door opened behind you, and you didn't need to turn to know who it was. "Shouldn't you be resting?" Fury asked, coming to stand beside you.

"Shouldn't you have told me Sam Winchester was alive?" you countered, not taking your eyes off the scene in the interrogation room.

Fury sighed, his one good eye fixed on the Winchesters as well. "It was a judgment call."

"It was the wrong one," you replied coldly.

"Perhaps," he conceded, surprising you with the admission. "But it's done now. The question is, what happens next?"

You finally turned to look at him, your expression carefully neutral despite the turmoil of emotions beneath the surface. "They go back to hunting, I go back to my job. Nothing's changed."

Fury studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Everything's changed," he corrected. "And we both know it."

Before you could respond, the door to the observation room opened again, revealing Ward. "They're asking for you," he said, his eyes flickering between you and Fury.

"I'm busy," you replied dismissively.

Ward raised an eyebrow. "Winchester was pretty insistent. Said something about owing you a conversation."

Fury nodded toward the door. "Go. That's an order. Medical tells me you're pushing yourself too hard anyway. Take some time."

With a resigned sigh, you moved toward the door, each step a careful study in controlled pain. Ward fell into step beside you, his presence a silent offering of support.

"You don't have to see them alone," he said quietly as you made your way down the corridor.

You almost smiled at that. "I've faced worse than Dean Winchester."

"Have you?" Ward asked, his tone suggesting he knew better.

You didn't answer, pausing outside the interrogation room door to gather yourself. Through the small window, you could see Dean pacing while Sam sat calmly at the table, Samuel looking increasingly impatient in the corner.

"I'll be fine," you assured Ward, though whether you were trying to convince him or yourself remained unclear.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside, immediately feeling the weight of three pairs of eyes on you. Dean stopped pacing, relief washing over his features as he took in your appearance—still bruised and battered, but standing.

"You should be in medical," he said by way of greeting.

"And you should be thanking me instead of criticizing my choices," you replied, crossing your arms carefully to avoid aggravating your injuries.

Samuel chuckled from his corner. "She's got you there, Dean."

Dean shot his grandfather an irritated glance before turning back to you. "Can we talk? Alone?"

You hesitated, considering refusing. It would be easier to maintain the walls you'd built if you kept your distance. But something in his expression—a vulnerability you rarely saw in Dean Winchester—made you nod.

"Five minutes," you conceded. "Then I have a debrief with Coulson."

Dean looked to Sam and Samuel. "Give us the room?"

Samuel nodded, moving toward the door without argument. Sam remained seated for a moment, studying the interaction between you and Dean with clinical interest before finally rising.

"Don't forget we have our own problems to deal with," he reminded Dean as he passed.

Once the door closed behind them, an awkward silence filled the room. Dean ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you remembered all too well.

"How are you feeling?" he asked finally.

"Like I got stabbed multiple times," you replied dryly. "But I'll live."

Dean winced at your bluntness. "Look, I—" he began, then stopped, seeming to struggle with his words. "Thank you. For coming for us. I know you didn't have to, especially after..."

"After you left me for Lisa and Ben?" you finished for him, the words more bitter than you'd intended.

Dean's expression crumpled slightly. "Yeah."

You sighed, some of the anger draining away despite your best efforts to hold onto it. "It was a mission, Dean. You got captured cause of me. I had to come."

"Bullshit," he said, taking a step closer to you. "You could have sent a team. You didn't have to come yourself."

"Maybe I wanted to see if Sam was really alive," you countered. "Since apparently everyone knew but me."

Guilt flashed across Dean's face. "I wanted to tell you," he said quietly. "But he's... he's not Sam. Not really. Something's wrong with him."

"He doesn't have a soul," you stated flatly.

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you-"

"S.H.I.E.L.D has been monitoring the situation," you explained. "Coulson told me before the mission."

"And you came anyway," Dean said, a hint of wonder in his voice.

You looked away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. "Like I said, it was a mission."

Dean took another step closer, close enough now that you could smell the familiar scent of him, leather and gunpowder and something uniquely Dean. "I missed you," he admitted softly.

The words hit you like a physical blow, your carefully constructed defenses cracking under the weight of them. "Don't," you warned, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, don't."

"I made a mistake," Dean continued, ignoring your plea. "Walking away from you... it was the biggest mistake of my life."

You finally looked at him, allowing him to see the pain and anger you'd been carrying for the past year. "You made your choice, Dean. You chose them."

"I was trying to keep a promise to Sam," he explained, his voice rough with emotion. "I was trying to have the normal life he wanted for me. But it wasn't..." He swallowed hard. "It wasn't right. It wasn't where I belonged."

"And where do you belong, Dean?" you asked, hating the tremor in your voice. "Because from where I'm standing, you seem to bounce between whatever option hurts me the most."

Dean flinched as if you'd struck him. "That's not fair."

"None of this is fair," you replied, gesturing between the two of you. "It never has been."

A heavy silence fell between you, filled with all the words neither of you seemed able to say. Finally, Dean broke it.

"Come back," he said suddenly. "Help us hunt. Help me fix Sam."

You stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious? I have a life here, Dean. A job. People who depend on me."

"People like that Ward guy?" Dean asked, a hint of jealousy in his tone.

You almost laughed at the absurdity of it. "That's none of your business."

"It is if you're..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"If I'm what, Dean? Moving on?" you challenged. "Because that's what you told me to do, remember? 'Go live your life,' you said. 'Be happy,' you said. So that's what I've been trying to do."

Dean's jaw tightened. "And are you? Happy?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implication. Were you happy? The honest answer was no, not really. S.H.I.E.L.D gave you purpose, a way to channel your skills and rage into something productive. But happy? That was a luxury you'd stopped expecting long ago.

"I'm alive," you answered finally. "That's enough."

Dean shook his head, taking another step toward you until he was close enough to touch. "It's not enough," he insisted. "It's never been enough for either of us."

Before you could respond, the door opened, revealing Natasha. Her eyes quickly assessed the situation, noting your tense posture and Dean's proximity.

"Time's up," she announced. "Coulson's waiting for the debrief."

Dean looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Natasha's expression made him think better of it. "This isn't over," he said to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"It has to be," you replied just as quietly, before turning to follow Natasha out of the room.

As the door closed behind you, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

[copperbadge]

how do you/have you handled Fandom Micro-Fame re: dating, especially people you meet through apps? I dither enough about whether/when to even mention fandom to new non-fannish people! and I'd imagine that letting new people know you've written some very popular fics & having thousands of tumblr followers would look different than casually mentioning your audience to your therapist, for example :P (this is purely curiosity about your position if you're open to talking about it, btw - not looking for advice!)

In all honesty, until last year no attempt I made at online dating ever got that far. I rarely got a swipe on the apps, and usually when I did it was either someone cheating on their partner or, memorably, someone wanting to play out their fetish fantasy nonconsensually (this happened at least twice that I recall). It never got to the point where you'd talk about that kind of thing. In the rare cases I met someone in brickspace and dated, which last happened in grad school, I didn't talk about it -- but partly that's because at that time I had three thousand readers, not thirty thousand.

Lucky in fanfic, unlucky in love :)

The person I'm currently seeing most often knows that I have a blog with a large readership but hasn't asked any further; I only mentioned it to them because I felt comfortable giving further details if they did ask. This is very much a friends with benefits type of situation (by mutual agreement) so I assume it's something we either won't discuss or something that will arise organically. In a way it's fortunate that they're also dealing with a certain level of micro-fame as someone who is prominent in their professional field, so they're not particularly weirded out by my situation just as I'm not weirded out by theirs; they're also familiar enough with fandom not to find it an alien landscape.

Generally speaking I keep fandom and brickspace somewhat separate, though that line has blurred more in the last five years or so. I don't really bring up fandom to family or non-fannish friends, and the friends I made beginning in fandom I now have strong connections to outside of fandom, so they're not Fandom Friends, they're friends I just met online. While fandom is obviously important to me, it's not something I really feel I need to tell people about unless I get an inkling they'd actually be interested.

It's just kind of a non-issue for me, which probably isn't very satisfying as an answer. I talk about fandom with fannish folk, and I talk about other stuff with non-fannish folk. If I feel like someone would understand the crossover I let it happen organically, but especially in dating I just haven't dated enough to develop any kind of policy about it.

[jojo-schmo]

"...WO~W! Your Majesty, you are packing some serious guns under that robe! Noir! Noir!! Have you seen the penguin yet?!"

"Y-...Yeah, I've seen the penguin... I'm not a kid, Raquelle..."

"...scritchy scritchy scritchy..."

Happy 3rd Anniversary Forgotten Land Roleswap!

(I hope this gift art isn't in bad taste given my retirement /// but I wanted to send you something on this day to celebrate, and this was the only idea that stuck ^^ )

I actually had to wait some time between receiving this ask on April 12th and posting it because just looking at it fills me with an overwhelmingly positive and warm feeling- and I couldn't put together the coherent response I feel it deserves!!!

A crossover episode?! What a wonderful, incredible gift!!

I once mentioned to Dess that I dreamed of what would happen if my Forgotten Land Roleswap and her Apologies AU ever crossed over someday. Anyone who followed the Apologies AU will recognize Noir, his little sister Adeleine, and their best friend Raquelle <3

In a distant reality, these two trios met... Though their encounter was brief, it was that much more emotionally meaningful...

Dess directly sent me this follow-up comic after submitting this ask, and gave me his permission and blessing to share it as a sort of epilogue for his Apologies AU. <3

Dess, my friend- I will always treasure these beautiful gifts. Thank you for sharing these with me even after your current retirement from the internet. And thank you for sharing your art and your stories with us. As you navigate the next chapter of your life I'm sending you my deepest wishes for your success, happiness, and most of all, peace.