#anyway sam and i are back on our verse bullshit :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deniigi · 4 years

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anyways the discord has fucked me up 6 ways to hell.

Have some Sam/Ned/Peter/Johnny/MJ

Because we couldn’t pick a ship and we discovered Sam/Ned, and now we’re all devastated by it.

Title: Anenome’s an Enemy

Summary: The polycule welcomes Sam into its ranks.

Notes: So the polycule consists of Ned, Peter and MJ who are all romantically involved and established. Peter is also in an on/off relationship with Johnny, but Johnny is just friends with Ned and MJ. Oh. And these are Inimitable Verse characters.

It started with Ned and MJ reading the texts from the groupchat in order to psychoanalyze Peter’s teammates.

This was not new.

Peter let them read the bullshit fairly regularly. It was only fair that they got to see what he was giggling about.

What was new was Ned asking who BT was.

Peter had thought that they’d met at Matt and Foggy’s wedding, but Ned couldn’t remember Sam being there, and, to be fair, Peter had noticed that Sam had an extraordinary ability to blend himself into the background when there were multiple people having a conversation.

MJ barely remembered Sam, too, for that reason precisely, so Peter asked Sam if he could send a selfie ‘for the home team to admire.’

Sam said that he wasn’t comfortable with that.

It was super surprising.

Peter apologized for asking and Sam waved it off, saying that he just didn’t know how to take selfies for anyone besides his sister and friends and he just didn’t want to screw it up. Which was code for ‘I am actually really fucking uncomfortable with this whole thing; please don’t ask me why I’m saying no.’

Peter dropped it.

MJ didn’t forget about it, though, and so he had to explain that Blindspot was a little camera shy.

Ha.

Get it?

Because Blindspot?

Ned told him that it was kind of weird that Sam didn’t want to take a picture for him when he was cool taking them for his other friends; MJ said that it was probably because he didn’t want her and Ned to see his face and Ned relented a little bit.

“We’ve already met him, though?” he pointed out. “Surely that was worse in this scenario?”

Well. In Sam’s world, it was probably better, actually, Peter thought. In real life, he could smile and duck out of sight and stay out of range. A picture was forever.

“He’s probably got a reason,” MJ continued. “Or his folks were probably those ‘put it on the internet and it never goes away’ types.”

Uh.

Probably?

“I think,” Peter said quietly, because he didn’t actually know—because Sam never actually said the words out loud—“That he might be undocumented?”

He got two sets of eyes his way immediately.

“Oh,” Ned said. “That’s completely understandable then.”

“Yikes,” MJ said. “Does he need help? I’ve got some stuff saved if he needs legal stuff.”

No. No, Peter thought that Sam probably knew more about his situation than any of them did. He knew what kind of help he needed and he might take offense at links or brochures passed his way, so he shrugged and told the others that Sam probably had the situation under control.

The other two dropped the subject after saying that the next time Sam was in the area, they should all get dinner or something.

Peter extended this invite to Sam and got back a simple ‘thanks 🙂’.

Sam didn’t talk to him for the rest of the week.

At about week two of radio silence in the chat and in personal texts, Peter asked Matt if he’d overstepped.

Matt didn’t answer the question. What he said was that, as far as he could tell, Sam was okay at work and in their training. He noted that Sam went through cycles of being very open and chatty and then withdrawing into himself for days and weeks at a time. He left it at that.

He didn’t say ‘he has been violently reminded about all the shit he can’t do and is protecting himself from you and your ilk.’

He didn’t say that.

But Peter still felt it.

SM: hey BT, hope you’re okay. Didn’t mean to overstep the other day. Sorry about that. Let me know if you need anything.

BT: I’m okay

BT: I’ll let you know.

BT: ❤

MJ told Peter that he was blowing things out of proportion.

“If Matt says he goes through cycles, then he goes through cycles, Peter,” She scolded. “Matt can’t lie for shit. Not about people he cares about.”

…Right.

But what if—

What if—

“I just feel like shit because I don’t know how to make him feel better,” Peter admitted. “I feel like I broke his trust or something.”

“He’s not not talking to you,” MJ said. “He’s just not info-dumping. And you don’t know his life, it might not have been you making him feel bad. The world doesn’t revolve around you and your mistakes, you know.”

Right, right.

Yeah, he knew.

PP: hey matt did I fuck up?

MM: ?

PP: I think I fucked up. can you tell Sam I’m really really sorry?

MM: Sammy’s fine?

MM: He’s discovered jalapeño Cheetos and he and foggy are making my life hell.

MM: they’re both very cheerful right now.

MM: did something happen?

PP: I think so? I asked him for a picture a while ago for Ned and MJ and he hasn’t spoken to me in 2 weeks. I mean like really spoken. I said sorry but I’m not getting back more than 5 word responses

MM: ah

MM: he’s okay Peter

PP: is he really tho??

MM: lol

MM: yeah buddy he’s okay

PP: what is ‘lol???’

MM: lol

PP: Matt.

MM: I’m a confidante I cannot say. But it is very cute.

PP: ????

PP: Matt I’m spiraling

PP: can you just like tell me I haven’t single handedly ruined our friendship?

MM: HA

PP: MATT

MM: no can do. You’ll have to ask him, friend.

PP: god when did you turn into such a dad?

MM: when I got all these fuckin kids I didn’t ask for. Fuck off squirt

PP: I hate you too

MM: ❤

Johnny held Peter’s face between two palms and told him he was being a dramatic piece of shit and it was Johnny’s turn this month.

Johnny was offended.

Peter made sad sounds at him until he relented and agreed to come sit at the table with MJ to psychoanalyze all Peter’s Bad Friend behaviors.

Johnny did not like to sit at the table with MJ, mostly because MJ kept stabbing him with her eyes, but he came along and gave Ned a big hug in the doorway.

MJ stabbed him with her eyes for that, too.

Johnny paged through the texts Peter had screenshotted and printed out and tossed on the table with a collection of pens and after a while, blinked once and jerked his head up suddenly to stare into MJ’s eyes.

MJ glared at him languidly.

Peter sat on his hands, all highlighters and pen privileges having been revoked after the second guilt spiral two minutes ago, and looked between them, back and forth.

They said nothing to him.

They spoke only in narrowing eyes and squirming eyebrows.

Peter hated when they did shit like this.

“Peter,” MJ finally said after a good three minutes of awkward silence. “When you went back west to stay with Matt and Fogs, where did you stay?”

Where?

Well, their house?

“Where in their house?” MJ asked like she already knew the answer. She tangled a hand into her hair in exasperation. Johnny brought both hands up to his face to hide a huge smile.

Wh—

Where?

In the house?

Well, Angel and Louis had taken the couch and Ellie and Wade had been in the guest bedroom, so he’d stayed in Sam’s room with him.

Ned sighed loudly from the couch. His typing slowed down as he slouched lower and lower into the cushions.

Peter didn’t get it.

Why was everyone staring at him?

“Buddy,” Johnny said kindly. “You’re so fucking stupid, you make me look smart.”

“You are smart,” Peter said. “Why am I stupid?”

MJ held out her hand for his phone. He gave it to her without question.

PP: hey matt its MJ.

PP: does Sam have a crush on Peter?

MM: I don’t know MJ, does he?

MJ held the phone up to Peter’s face while Johnny shriek-giggled into his palms.

Peter felt a little like jelly.

All wobbly and shit.

“He likes me?” he blurted out.

MJ blinked slowly. Johnny pounded a fist against the table, wheezing.

“He thinks you want a picture for your friends,” he said. “He thinks you’ve friendzoned him. Oh my god. Peter.”

WHAT WHAT WHAT

“Give me that,” Peter said, snatching his phone.

PP: matt this is peter this is not a drill

PP: he likes me??? Like likes-likes? Or just likes?

MM: why do you children keep asking me stupid questions?

MM: ask each other stupid questions

No.

“What do I do?” Peter asked the other two.

Johnny hummed and poked at his chin. MJ leaned over towards the couch with an outstretched hand. Ned took it in a show of moral support.

Once she’d powered back up, MJ turned back to Peter with infinite patience.

“Do you like him too?” she asked.

Did he—did he like Sam?

Well, obviously he liked Sam. Sam was funny and brilliant and always down to get in a bit of trouble. He was sensitive to others and he picked himself back up every time shit hit him.

He was warm.

His energy was warm. And welcoming. And he seemed to constantly be fighting that.

But he was Matt’s. Not in that way.

Like, he was Matt’s apprentice. Functionally, he was Matt’s apprentice, but actually, even back when Peter had just met him, he’d known that Sam was more than that to Matt.

Sam denied it. Matt denied it. But they were very, very close. Closer than Peter had been allowed to be with Matt.

Matt would fight to the death for Peter, Peter knew this; there had been a few close calls over the years. But Matt gave off this weird vibe with Sam.

It was a buzz. Peter felt it low in his neck. Humming.

The Spidey Sense didn’t like Matt being behind him when Peter was with Sam. It thought he was a threat.

And that? That was not normal. Matt had stood behind Peter for more than a decade and never, not once, had the Spidey Sense reacted that way to him.

Peter had told Wade about it and Wade’s eyes had softened. He’d clasped Peter’s shoulder and said that he was ‘touched as hell,’ which Peter didn’t understand at first.

He kind of got it more now.

Sam was Matt’s. What he was exactly wasn’t super clear. But Matt was willing and ready not just to die, but potentially to torture, for Sam and he didn’t fucking like anyone being too close to him—especially not another vigilante.

Sam was off limits.

Touch him and suffer the consequences.

That message was loud and clear.

So even if Peter thought that Sam was warm and brilliant and so easy to sink into, it didn’t matter.

Johnny and MJ and Ned considered this by drumming fingers on noses and chins and making humming sounds.

“Red seems okay with BT having a crush on you, though?” Johnny said. “He’s joking about it, after all. Maybe he just doesn’t want you to make the first move? You do kind of have a track record, Peter.”

That made a lot of sense actually.

“So what, I have to wait for Sam to say something or to get over me?” Peter asked.

“Pretty much,” MJ said. “Unless anyone else has a better idea?”

No one did.

Man, bummer.

Sam came back into contact a few days later like nothing had happened. He was concerned about definitions of seals. He needed people to help him work through them. Evidently, Matt, Foggy, and Kirsten hadn’t done the job.

Matt said nothing about no one, which was infuriating as always.

And so it went.

BT: heyyyyyyyyyyyyy peter

SM: lol hey you what’s up?

BT: m drunk

SM: oh word?

BT: Leilani told me no to taext no one butttttt I hate meself so here we are

SM: Leilani?

BT: fremd

SM: dude red said you finish all your girlfriends drinks?

BT: is my scared duty

BT: scared

BT: sacred

SM: sam you’re like 140 pounds

BT: 😘

SM: okay sure I’m proud of you. how many did you chug

BT: hey teach says that you’re a people eater is that true?

SM: people eater? No. I am spider

BT: hello spider I am dog

SM: ASDF:SAfasFDf

BT: no like he says that you go through people a lot

SM: I have a lot of exes

BT: oh neat

BT: I have none exes

SM: what?? Really??

BT: rly

SM: have you ever dated someone?

BT: I don’t date

BT: fuck em and leave em

SM: oh

SM: does that work for you?

BT: easy

SM: wow okay

BT: I don’t want to be your ex. Can we just fuck and say notging about it?

BT: nothing

BT: like it doesn’t have to matter

BT: donst have to go anwhere

SM: yeah. I’m down with that, I guess?

BT: !!!!

SM: I mean if you are. Next time we’re in the same area we can do smth

BT: nice

BT: I think Imma puke

SM: uh?? Don’t puke in bed

SM: BT?

SM: Sam?

BT: did not we’re good hey thanks

BT: that’s cool of you.

BT: I promise Ima a good lay ❤

SM: you could be more than that too, you know?

BT: Good night!!!

MJ held her face as Peter straddled her hips with his phone two inches from her nose.

Ned snickered.

“Help me,” MJ begged of him.

He shook his head. Peter shook his phone.

“Friend,” he said.

“Fuckbuddy,” MJ told him. “Don’t fall in love with him, Peter.”

Too fuckin’ late, babe.

Ned started shaking with laughter.

Once.

It happened once.

Kirsten was in New York for reasons. She brought backup in the form of Sam and some of his coworkers. They were on a 3 day mission, then Sam was catching a train to go help Clint out with a case down in Florida on Matt’s request.

Three days was plenty of time to get up to some shenanigans.

And Sam’s sides were tight. Strong.

Weirdly flexible?

“You’re great,” Sam told him immediately after their ‘shenanigans.’ “I’m leaving.”

Woah, woah, woah, there cowboy.

What’s the rush?

Sam, already back in his black hoodie, blinked owlishly and then squinted.

“Is this not how this works?” he asked.

Uuuuuuuh.

No?

“Stay,” Peter told him, pulling at his sweater. “Have dinner with me and my partners. They want to meet you.”

Sam smiled at him.

It was a bitter one.

“I’ve gotta jet, Pete,” he said. “For real. Thanks, though. Tell them I said hi.”

When he left Peter felt a little like slamming his hand against the bedside table. But that would shatter the bedside table, so he laid back and let the self-loathing begin.

Johnny thought that Sam was maybe a little insecure and so Peter should chill the fuck out.

“He’s probably never been with a polyamorous person,” he told Peter. “He might be trying to respect MJ and Ned.”

That made sense.

Too much sense.

“And anyways, your agreement was ‘fuck and leave,’” Johnny said. “If you want more than that you’re gonna have to—”

Don’t say it.

“You’re gonna have to—”

Stop singing.

“You’re gonna have to communicate, boo-bear.”

Fuck off.

No words. Only unrequited feelings and misery.

Johnny laughed.

“You’re a mess,” he said.

Whatever.

Okay, but once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern, no?

Matt sent a text to Peter that said simply ‘I will end you.’

That was basically proof, right?

That was Matt’s shovel talk, right??

MJ and Ned stared at him in horror.

“I think, Peter,” MJ said, “This is a warning.”

Yeah, a shovel talk. Peter had been through infinite shovel talks.

“Maybe you should talk to BT,” MJ said.

“Rephrasing that,” Ned said. “You should definitely talk to BT.”

Okay, fine.

SM: hey sam

SM: what are we doing, man?

SM: Matt’s threatening to end me

BT: ignore him he’s got zero right

SM: are you sure?

BT: I thought we weren’t talking about this

SM: I kinda want to talk about it?

BT: 🙂 I don’t

SM: oh

SM: sorry

SM: I thought that maybe there was just something more there?

BT: there isn’t. Sorry Peter.

SM: …are you sure?

BT: yes

SM: you’re kind of not giving me confidence that you’re sure, sam. Not enough emojis.

BT: I don’t want to talk

BT: thanks for trying tho!

BT: it means a lot ❤

SM: is it okay if I talk then?

BT: I will not stop you

SM: okay great because I’m kinda? Falling? For you?

SM: like you’re really cute? And funny? And insanely smart and really nice and super good at everything you do? And you have your ideals and you don’t waver?

SM: and idk if you know anything about me or my people that that’s uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh

SM: how to say

SM: my type

BT: I’m not a type 🙂

SM: no, obviously you’re a person. And I just.

SM: I’ve got love disease

BT: don’t say that word

SM: okay?

SM: are you uncomfortable?

BT: yes

BT: profoundly

SM: okay sorry I’ll stop

BT: peter I like you but I can’t be anything more to you

SM: ?? Why not??

BT: why not????

BT: because DD is my teacher, okay?? And you’re his mentee/brother/teammate whatever.

BT: and I’m not ruining what I have with him because I can’t control my fucking emotions.

BT: this is my shot.

BT: I only have one.

BT: and you’re great. You’re amazing. But I can’t throw it away.

SM: oh

SM: no yeah. That’s fair.

SM: sorry I didn’t mean to push

BT: its fine

SM: is that why you don’t date?

BT: I don’t date because no one cares.

SM: sam that’s not true

BT: can we just? Not?

SM: no? On this thing? No? People care about you? And they would be lucky to have you if you wanted them?

BT: I don’t want them

SM: are you aro?

BT: idk what that means

SM: Aromantic? You don’t feel romantic attraction?

BT: I still don’t know what that means

SM: okay well if you are, then that’s totally cool just so you know.

BT: I’m sorry

SM: don’t be sorry, you’re fine. I was the one pushing.

BT: no this is how it always goes. I’m sorry. I’m just gonna step back if that’s okay

SM: ? you don’t have to. Lol. If you think a rejection is the kind of thing to put a dent in my relationships with people, you got another thing coming pal.

BT: I didn’t mean it like that

SM: it’s okay if you did

SM: but sam you also know that it’s okay to be known a little bit, right?

BT: its not.

Hhhhhhhhhhng.

“Peter,” Ned said. “Bud, look at me.”

Peter did--with maximum misery.

“I love you,” Ned said. “You are cornering this guy.”

FFFFFFFFfffffffffffffffffuck.

“I’m never texting again,” Peter said.

“Bro, chill,” Ned said. “He likes you, okay? He literally said that. And he also said that he doesn’t want to fuck things up with his teacher. We know that Matt’s polyamorous. We know that he gets it. But does BT know that? Have they actually talked about this kind of thing? Hell no. Matt won’t talk to Foggy about romantic shit, why would he talk to BT about it?”

Fffffffffffffffffffffair point.

“Dramatic,” Ned scolded. “Here, let me try.”

Beg your pardon, sir?

“I just want to calm him down,” Ned said. “You know, apologize for my idiot’s pressure.”

Ah.

Right.

Phone’s all yours then.

PP: hi BT, this is Ned. I’m peter’s bf.

PP: listen man I just want to say that you’re completely fine. Don’t worry about this stuff too much. Me and MJ don’t mind you two hanging out and doing stuff. We’ve already talked through a lot of this for another guy.

PP: but also like, if you like Peter, that’s okay? He’s infuriatingly likeable. I know, I’ve been here since 3rd grade. If that feels weird to you, though, it might help if you talked to Matt about Kirsten and how they came to be.

PP: it’s okay

PP: whatever you decide, I promise: it’s okay. And you seem super nice and you make my partner really happy (fuckin dopey tbh) so if you ever just want to come and chill, that’s totally good. We’d like to meet you at some point, but no pressure if that makes you uncomfortable.

PP: I’ll be honest, BT, I don’t know much about you.

PP: MJ’s started following you on twitter tho and she says youre funny af. So if you want to join the nerdcrowd over here (unless you’re startrek trash) you’ll always be welcome to our place.

PP: anyways sorry that Peter’s Like That™

PP: he never learned how to quit

PP: hope you get a moment to chill and process dude. –Ned

Read 12:24

BT: are you sure?

PP: oh hey. About what?

BT: all of it?

PP: yeah man I’m sure. MJ is too, she’s just on Peter-beating duty rn so she can’t come to the phone

BT: ok

PP: hey are you shy?

BT: what? No. why do you ask?

PP: no reason. you just seem a little shy.

BT: ☹

PP: lol

PP: you okay?

BT: yes

PP: you want to process?

BT: no

PP: have you already processed?

BT: how do you know that?

PP: because you’re shy and I used to be more shy so you probably either talked it out to yourself or you called your mom or bff or something

BT: I don’t have

BT: sry yeah I talked it out with foggy

PP: you don’t have a mom?

BT: …or a bff. But there is foggy. He’s been helpful.

PP: dude how do you not have a bff? You need a bff

BT: I have plenty of friends ☹

PP: but no bff

BT: AND a sister

PP: but no bff

BT: I COULD have a bff. I just choose not to. For style.

PP: lolololol

PP: peter’s right you’re cute. Okay I’ve gotta give him back his phone before he implodes. Nice talking to you.

BT: okay byeee

Peter straddled Ned and held the phone two inches from his face.

This was witchcraft.

Dark magic.

The least he could do was share.

“I literally just took the pressure off, dude, I don’t know what’s hard about this,” Ned said while MJ watched them over the back of the couch like a cat.

“Teach me your ways, sorcerer,” Peter said.

Ned grabbed his elbow.

“You will never attain my power,” he said.

Peter dropped his full weight on top of him.

Sam came around eventually.

Peter’s heart fucking stopped. Johnny clapped for him when the text came in that said, ‘DD says he doesn’t mind and he’s already doled out threats. So? Do you maybe want to start over?’

Peter screamed.

Johnny took his phone from him and let him scream better.

“I want to seeeee,” Johnny hummed. “Give us a picture, Blindspot. Are you a little hottie?”

“Shortie,” Peter whimpered.

The phone went down and Johnny’s head came up.

“That’s deadly,” he said.

“I know,” Peter told him.

Sam was…how to say.

Light touch.

Skittish.

Not good with even the slightest bit of pressure.

Peter hadn’t realized how much of a front he put up in front of other people until he tried to get him talking about shit that mattered and only then did he fully realize the extent to which Sam was exactly like Matt.

Trying to steer him towards emotions and negotiation and heartfelt discussion was like telling a fish that it could only swim one direction.

Sam’s reaction in every case was ‘okay that’s fine, let’s never mention this again--also I’m not going to do that; you just do what you want to me and I’ll figure everything else out on my own.’

Mind boggling.

Zero skills in that department.

Ned thought it was absolutely adorable.

MJ thought it was funny as fuck.

“Matt is useless,” Peter told them. “Absolutely useless. He’s done this shit for twenty fucking years and he’s just letting Sam work it out on his own?”

“Maybe that’s his teaching method?” Ned pointed out.

No, it absolutely was his teaching method. But that was the problem.

Fuck.

“Sam,” Peter said on the phone a while later, “Listen, buddy. I recognize that you are allergic to feelings, but this is what we have to do to get what we want.”

Sam hung up.

Dude.

“Threatened,” Ned said. “Come on. Gimme.”

Ned accused Peter of not telling him that Sam was Chinese. Peter told him that Sam’s twitter was literally half-written in Chinese.

Ned accused MJ of not telling him that Sam was Chinese and MJ said simply ‘my bad’ and got away with that shit, like she always did.

Unbelievable.

Johnny asked if Sam was interested in a superhero-sandwich and Peter got to take his aggression out on his pressure points.

Still, though, Peter was kind of glad that Ned was leading the charge on this. Firstly, because Ned so rarely stepped into these things with authority and it was really warming and lovely to see him so interested in bringing another person into their polycule. And secondly because Ned had the lightest touch of them all.

Peter, MJ, and Johnny were all helmet heads wielding hammers. The only thing keeping them from self-destruction were all the YIELD signs they’d set around their circle.

Ned typically just waded in between them all to tug Peter and MJ out of the battlezone and into a semblance of humanity.

So it was nice—no, it was cute that Ned was developing a little crush on Sam.

MJ thought so, too.

“I do love fresh meat to tenderize,” she said.

Peter stared.

“That is not the vibe we’re going for,” he reminded her.

MJ waved him off.

“Peter.”

What’d he do now?

Ned held the phone seriously out to him.

“Tell Sam I want a picture of him to put on the wall next to my mirror,” he said.

Peter blinked.

“That’s creepy, dude,” he said.

“It will make him laugh and he’s still not comfortable sharing yet,” Ned said. “But he trusts you more than me.”

Ah.

Right.

Okay sure.

Peter texted.

Sam sent back only eye emojis.

Ah.

“So,” Peter said while Ned tapped a foot impatiently on the kitchen linoleum. “There’s something you should know.”

Ned cocked his head at him.

“Dude,” MJ said. “That’s wild.”

Sam’s eyes were, uh, how to say.

Inhuman.

Johnny shrieked, took the phone and climbed into Peter’s lap.

“He’s so cute, Peter, bring him home, I’ll be so nice,” he pleaded.

Johnny was not the one who was going to need reminders to be nice.

“How does he see?” Ned asked.

Uhhhhhhh.

Oh, you know…

Not well.

Johnny lowered the phone.

“He’s blind?” he asked.

“Not blind,” Peter said. “But low vision.”

The room seemed to go quiet for a minute.

“Is Matt his—”

“No,” Peter sighed.

“Are you sure?” MJ asked. “These coincidences are stacking.”

“No,” Peter repeated. “His dad’s Chinese. He was born in Fuzhou, I think.”

“Oh,” MJ said.

“So he can’t see very well,” Ned repeated.

“He does okay in daytime,” Peter said. “And he does best with high contrast. But like, pictures can be hard sometimes if they’re too light or too dark. He doesn’t really ask for much help, but he and Matt kinda puzzle over stuff if you’re not careful. And if you’re extra not careful, they’ll make their own memes and they’ll be full of blind jokes.”

The room held still for another moment.

“Okay, so what do we need to do?” Ned asked.

The first time the others met Sam, Peter had to chase him down the hall and even then, it was only via Matt’s aid that he was placed back in Peter’s apartment.

Matt pointed a finger at Sam’s eye and told him that he was to stay ‘right fuckin here’ until he was done at the courthouse.

“Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars,” Matt said as Sam tried and failed to bite that finger. “I want an intact paralegal by the end of this trip, and I will not have an intact paralegal if you go around gettin’ noticed by the fuckin’ Irish, yes?”

“I can take ‘em,” Sam said.

Matt sneered.

“I don’t know why I bother,” he said. “Stay. Those are orders.”

“Fuck your orders,” Sam shot back at him, to the horror of everyone else in the room.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘fuck your orders,’ whatever,” Matt said. “Stay put.”

Sam bared his teeth after him.

Only when the door closed, did he finally give notice that other people were in the room. Johnny lit up.

“You’re short and angry,” he said.

Sam rounded on him.

MJ loved Sam now.

MJ told everyone else to get out, Sam was the only person who mattered.

Johnny thought that Matt needed to come back and take his rabid dog with him. Sam told him to stay out of his face and they wouldn’t have any more problems, but, seeing as Johnny was incapable of not adding fuel to fire, Peter kept him behind himself for the time being.

Ned was probably the person in the most shock of Sam, however.

Peter forgot how Sam came off to other people.

Very unassuming. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. His prosthetics hid his black sclera, and even if he did tend to lift his face towards the light more often than other people, he did it so subtly, you’d think he was nodding along to a tune in his head.

Sam looked like your friend.

Your neighbor. Your classmate. The one with the baby face, you know.

His hair was getting longer, Peter noticed. He pointed it out and Sam softened enough to tell him that he was going for something a little more hipster.

“If I let it keep going, it’ll start swooping,” he told Peter. “The swoop is very in right now, Peter.”

Peter believed him.

He had no idea what that meant. But he believed him.

“You know what’s not in?” Johnny asked. “Friendly fire.”

Sad sneered at him.

“I ain’t know you from Adam,” he snapped.

Ned lifted a fist to his face in a sign that Peter recognized well and it took everything in him not to smirk and start teasing.

“Okay, let’s start over,” Peter said. “Sam, these are my friends, or, uh. Our polycule, if you will.”

He had Sam’s attention now.

“Polycule?” he asked.

Indeed.

“’Cause it’s shaped like a molecule,” MJ said. “And everyone here is also a nerd.”

Sam looked at her.

“You’re MJ,” he said.

“You’re Blindspot,” MJ said. “What makes you blind?”

“The trauma,” Sam said without missing a beat.

Peter waved Johnny off and set his hands on Sam’s shoulders.

“Sam’s made an invisibility suit,” he said.

He had everyone’s attention now.

“You did what?” Ned said.

Sam blinked and then shrugged a shoulder.

“What, like it’s hard?” he asked.

Oh yeah.

He was gonna fit in fine.

#samuel chung #peter parker #ned leeds #michelle jones #johnny storm #fic #ficlet #inimitable verse #the discord is going to destroy me truly #I love everyone in this bar #Matt is old and grumpy

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tisfan · 4 years

Note

Hey, are you still doing those prompts? If yes, would you write some IronFalcon - or even some WinterIronFalcon? (which huii ~ *fans myself*) With either 21. "Are you being sarcastic?" "Me? Sarcastic? Never." Or 82. "What a load of bullshit." Please and thank you! :D (If you don't do them anymore; whoops my bad :P)

Title: Welcome to the Club Collaborator(s) Tisfan Link https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235783 Square Filled Y4: Collateral Damage StarkBucks Bingo: B1: walking disaster Ship/Main Pairing Bucky/Sam Bucky/Sam/Tony Rating general Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings some homophobic language, homophobic parents, Howard Stark’s A+ parenting, pre-slash, possible threesome much much later Summary Bucky’s getting some use out of his terrible Christmas Present. Unfortunately, Tony gets in the way. Word Count 1580

For @buckybarnesbingo @starkbucksbingo and @justsomeoneunordinary

Tony took the empty cardboard boxes, neatly broken down as requested by the big sign in front of the dumpers, down the stairs. Moving in the day after Christmas had been rough, and he was glad he didn’t have a lot of stuff to take with him. (Howard had practically growled the whole time he was packing, making sure he didn’t take anything valuable with him to sell on the other side.)

The smallest rental van he could afford and a few trips, and he was now the proud renter of a shitty apartment with almost no furniture, some crappy dishes, his clothes, and Dum-E taking up space.

On the plus side, he’d discovered that his mom had slipped a couple thousand dollars into one of the moving boxes before he left, so he had a little less precarious problems than he had before he’d unpacked it.

Tony about jumped out of his skin when the dumpster next to him exploded. Debris rained down on him, sharp and stinging.

He hit the ground, scraping the denim out at the knee, and erasing some of the skin underneath. “Son of a bitch,” he yelled, covering his head.

The moment of sheer panic subsided and he realized what he’d thought was a bomb or gunfire was, in fact, the shattered remains of a plate.

He stared around, until finally he looked up to discover two men standing on a balcony overlooking the trashcan. One of them had his hand over his mouth and looked aghast. The other was laughing like a loon, pointing at the first one.

“Shit, man, you okay?”

Tony climbed to his feet, hissing as his knee stung. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Sam’s chuckin’ china,” the other man said, still giggling. “Sorry, you’re just collateral damage.”

Tony looked down at his ruined jeans. “Yeah, great,” he said. “Fantastic. Terrific.” He limped a few steps back toward his apartment, the cut dripping blood down his calf and into his sock. Shit. He didn’t even think he owned a first aid kit.

“Seriously, man, you okay?” Sam was practically leaning off the balcony, and while it wasn’t that high up, falling three stories onto a cement sidewalk wasn’t going to be good for anyone.

“Scraped my knee,” Tony reported.

“You missed, you asshole, you missed,” the other guy said.

“Hang on a minute,” Sam yelled, then smacked the other guy who was still laughing. “Shut up, you walking disaster.”

Both of them vanished into their apartment. Tony waited for a moment, then decided he didn’t really need someone taking pictures and for it to end up in one of those cheap supermarket magazines. It wouldn’t take long for Howard to figure out that Tony hadn’t even made it one day before something stupid happened.

He got all the way to the stairs before his leg decided enough of this shit. Fuck. Well, maybe he could just rest a bit, and--

“Wait, no, don’t sit down, we’re comin’,” the laughing guy said.

Don’t sit down, what was he, crazy. “Don’t sit down,” Tony grumbled, “what are you, crazy?”

“Don’t you mind him,” Sam said. “Look, if it’s okay, we goan carry you upstairs and see to that knee of yours. You can trust me, I’m an EMT.”

“Don’t look at me,” the other guy said, “I just drive the ambulance.” The other guy was hard not to look at, honestly. Grey-blue eyes and a jaw you could rest a shot glass on. Man, Tony would like to do shots off that jaw, honestly. He decided that not getting punched in the face was the better part of valor, however, and didn’t say so.

“You guys--”

“Work for the local hospital, yeah. I’m Sam Wilson, this is my partner, Bucky Barnes.” Sam offered a hand to shake.

“And you’re going to carry me upstairs,” Tony continued. “Are you sure you didn’t hit me in the head?”

“Yep,” Bucky said. He and Sam did something, and suddenly their hands were aligned in such a way, with one of them gripping the other’s forearms, that made a little basket of their arms. Something to sit on. Huh. Tony was impressed. Sure, why not.

“If you all drop me down the stairs, I will sue,” Tony said.

“I ain’t drop nobody yet,” Bucky said. “That’s Steve.” And at Tony’s blank look, he added, “another guy on our crew. But me and Sam are the same height, so we can do this.”

“Huh. Okay.”

Gingerly, Tony sat down on the little seat-frame they made.

“One, two--” Sam said, and suddenly Tony was being carried like he was the damn Prom King or something, and they went up the stairs with alacrity. Two flights and Tony might have been breathing hard, but these guys weren’t even breaking a sweat.

“Uh, don’t you even want to know what floor I’m on?”

“Nope, you’re coming to our place,” Sam said. “My kit’s there.”

“Am I being kidnapped for my kidney, this sounds like it might be--”

“Oh shut up,” Sam said, “an’ open the door. It’s unlocked.”

“All right, here, on the sofa, and--”

“Drop your britches,” Sam said.

“This is sounding more and more like a kidnapping at every turn,” Tony said, but he did what Sam said, because there was, in fact, an EMT kit right there on the coffee table. And also, treating a scraped knee was going to take either getting the pants off, or cutting them open. And Tony didn’t have that many pairs of pants, really. He could get one of those iron on patches, and whine at Pepper, maybe, until she fixed them. Although she would probably just look up some videos on YouTube for him and tell him to stop assuming she knew how to cook or sew just because she was a woman. Maybe he wouldn’t ask her.

See, Pepper, I can be taught.

Sitting in his boxers on someone else’s sofa that he didn’t even know was super weird.

“This is super weird, guys,” Tony said.

“No, no, the guy we had to triage about fifty feet down a drainpipe, that was weird.”

“I dunno, I liked the lady who got stuck to the inflow pipe of her swimming pool. That was fun.”

The two of them traded stories back and forth, Tony listening with rapt attention, as Sam cleaned out Tony’s knee.

“Here, you got some gravel in it,” Sam said. He pulled out a pair of extra long tweezers and a kidney shaped metal dish, plucking the rocks and debris from Tony’s wound with an expert hand. The gravel made little plink noises as it hit the dish.

“Little bit of bacitracin and some topical numbing agent--”

“Like the stuff in solarcaine,” Bucky added helpfully.

“--and a bit of spray on skin, to seal it up. Wearing a bandaid on your knee is all but pointless,” Sam said.

“Huh.” Tony looked down, then put his pants back on. It still hurt, but it wasn’t bleeding. So, you know, that was good. “So, uh, why were you throwing dishes off the balcony?”

“So, Bucky and me, we’re partners, right?” Sam said. “And--”

“My father doesn’t approve, which you know, whatever, screw him anyway,” Bucky said. “Although I can’t figure out if the problem is, I am gay, or that Sam is black.”

“Usually with that type, it’s both,” Tony said.

“But he’s been trying to-- I don’t know, get fuckin’ brownie points with me by pretending everything’s still cool,” Bucky said. “It’s stupid, but I reckon he don’t want to end up being old and my bein’ the person who gets to pick his nursin’ home or something. Or he doesn’t want people to ask the wrong sorts of questions.”

“Bucky’s a hero,” Sam said. “It was in the papers and everything. So people do ask about his son.”

“So, he sent me this fuckin’ Christmas present, right?”

“Dishes?”

“Yeah, like, not even ones you can eat off, but those bullshit things you put on the wall,” Bucky said.

“Bradford Exchange,” Tony asked, because Rhodey had gotten big into those for a while, buying plates with Star Trek ships on them, and the like. He had a whole collection of them.

“An’ like, not even nice ones of those. Crappy ones. With bible verses on them. That you get from like, the Dollar Store.”

“Which would still be okay, spirit of Christmas, maybe,” Sam said. “Except he regifted them. Someone at his office gave them to him, and he left the receipt in the box. Probably not on purpose--”

“With George, it’s not like you can tell whether he’s bein’ a jackass or not,” Bucky complained. “What a load of bullshit.”

Tony recognized that tone of voice, too. That was the tone of a man who still cared, and was mad at himself that he did. Wanting Dad’s approval and hating himself that he wanted it. And still not getting it.

“So, this happy asshole here,” Sam said, “was trying to see if he could hit the dumpster from the balcony. Which is how you ended up involved.”

“Hey, I got two of them in, which ain’t half bad. You’re the one who missed by a mile.”

“My dad kicked me out three days ago, because he caught me in my room with a boy,” Tony said. “So-- can I join your club?”

Sam and Bucky looked at each other, then grinned. “We’ve even got jackets.”

#buckybarnesbingo #starkbucksbingo #prompts #winterironfalcon #EMT AU #justsomeoneunordinary

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johnrossbowie · 4 years

Text

LEAVING TWITTER

I wrote this earlier in the fall, before the election, after dissolving my Twitter account. I wasn’t sure where to put it (“try up your ass!” – someone, I’m sure) and then I remembered I have a tumblr I never use. Anyway, here tis.

How do you shame someone who thinks Trumps’ half-baked policies and quarter-baked messaging put him in the pantheon of great Presidents? How do you shame someone so lacking in introspection that they will call Obama arrogant while praising Trump’s decisiveness and yet at the same time vehemently deny that they’re racist? How do you shame someone for whom that racism is endearing and maybe long overdue?

You don’t. It’s silly to think otherwise.

Twitter is an addiction of mine, and true to form, my dependence on it grew more serious after I quit drinking in 2010. At first it was a chance to mouth off, make jokes both stupid and erudite and occasionally stick my foot in my mouth (I owe New Yorker writer Tad Friend an apology. He knows why, or (God willing) he’s forgotten. Either way. Sorry.) I blew off steam, steam that was accumulating without booze to dampen the flames. Not always constructive venting, but I also met new friends, and connected with people whose work I’ve admired for literal decades and ended up seeing plays with Lin-Manuel Miranda and hanging backstage with Jane Wiedlin after a Go-Go’s show and exchanging sober thoughts with Mike Doughty. When my mom passed in 2018, a lot of people reached out to tell me they were thinking of me. This was nice. For a while, Twitter was a huge help when I needed it.

I used to hate going to parties and really hated dancing and mingling, but a couple of drinks would fix that. Point is, for a while, booze was a huge help, too.

But my engagement with Twitter changed, and I started calling people my ‘friends’ even though I’d never once met them or even heard their voices. These weren’t even penpals, these were people whose jokes or stances I enjoyed, so with Arthurian benevolence I clicked on a little heart icon, liked their tweet, and assumed therefore that we had signed some sort of blood oath.

We had not. I got glib, and cheap, and a little lazy. And then to make matters much worse, Trump came along and extended his reach with the medium.

There was a while there where I thought I could be a sort of voice for the voiceless, and I thought I was doing that. I tried very hard to only contribute things that I felt were not being said – It wasn’t accomplishing anything to notice “Haha Trump looks like he’s bullshitting his way through an oral report” – such things were self-evident. I tried to point out very specific inconsistencies in his policies, like the Muslim ban meant to curb terrorism that still favored the country that brought forth 13 of the 9/11 hijackers. Like his full-throated cries against media bias performed while he suckled at Roger Ailes’ wrinkly teat. Like his fondness for evangelical votes that coincided with a scriptural knowledge that lagged far behind mine, even though I’m a lapsed Episcopalian, and there is no one less religiously observant than a lapsed Episcopalian. But that eventually gave way to unleashing ad hominem attacks against his higher profile supporters, who I felt weren’t being questioned enough, who I felt were in turn being fawned over by theirdim supporters. If you’re one of these guys, and you think I’m talking about you, you’re probably right, but don’t mistake this for an apology. You suck, and you support someone who sucks, and your idolatry is hurting our country and its standing in the world. Fuck you entirely, but that’s not the point. The point is that me screaming into the toilet of Twitter helps no one – it doesn’t help a family stuck at the border because they’re trying to secure a better life for their kids. It doesn’t help a poor teenager who can’t get an abortion because the party of ‘small government’ has squeezed their tiny jurisdiction into her uterus. It doesn’t help the coal miner who’s staking all his hopes on a dying industry and a President’s empty promises to resurrect it. I was born in New York City, and I currently live in Los Angeles. Those are the only two places I’ve ever lived, if you don’t count the 4 years I spent in Ithaca[1]. So, yes, I live in a liberal bubble, and while I’ve driven across the country a couple of times and did a few weeks in a touring band and am as crushed as any heartlander about the demise of Waffle House, you have me dead to rights if you call me a coastal elitist. And with that in mind, I offer few surprises. A guy who grew up in the theater district and was vehemently opposed to same-sex marriage or felt you should own an AR-15? THAT would be newsworthy. I am not newsworthy. I can preach to the choir, I can confirm people’s biases, but I will likely not sway anyone who is eager to dismiss a Native New Yorker who lives in Hollywood. I grew up in the New York of the 1970s, and that part of my identity did shape my politics. My mom’s boss was gay and the Son of Sam posed a realistic threat. As such, gays are job creators[2] and guns are used for homicide much more often than they are used for self-defense[3]. I have found this to be generally true over the years, and there’s even data to back it up.

“But Mr. Bowie,” you might say, though I insist you call me John - “those studies are conducted by elitist institutions and those institutions suck!” And again, I am not going to reason with people who will dismiss anything that doesn’t fit their limited world view as elitist or, God Help Us, fake news. But the studies above are peer-reviewed, convincing, and there are more where those came from.

“But John,” you might say, and I am soothed that we’re one a first name basis - “Can’t you just stay on Twitter for the jokes?” Ugh. A) apparently not and B) the jokes are few and far between, and I am 100% part of that problem.

I have stuff to offer, but Twitter is not the place from which to offer it.

After years of academically understanding that Twitter is not the real world, Super Tuesday 2020 made the abstract pretty fucking concrete. If you had looked at my feed on the Monday beforehand – my feed which is admittedly curated towards the left, but not monolithic (Hi, Rich Lowry!) – you’d have felt that a solid Bernie surge was imminent, but also that your candidate was going surprise her more vocal critics. When the Biden sweep swept, when Bernie was diminished and when Warren was defeated, I realized that Twitter is not only not the real world, it’s almost some sort of Phillip K. Dickian alternate timeline, untethered to anything we’re actually experiencing in our day to day life. This is both good news and bad news – one, we’re not heading towards a utopia of single payer health care and the eradication of American medical debt any time soon, but two, we’re also not being increasingly governed by diaper-clad jungen like Charlie Kirk. Clouds and their linings. Leaving Twitter may look like ceding ground to the assclowns but get this – the ground. Is not. There.

It’s just air.

There are tangible things I can do with my time - volunteer with a local organization called Food On Foot, who provide food and job training for people experiencing homelessness here in my adopted Los Angeles. I can give money to candidates and causes I support, and I can occasionally even drop by social media to boost a project or an issue and then vanish, like a sort of Caucasian Zorro who doesn’t read his mentions. I can also model good behavior for my kids (ages 10 and 13) who don’t need to see their father glued to his phone, arguing about Trumps incompetence with Constitutional scholars who have a misspelled Bible verse in their bio (three s’ in Ecclesiastes, folks).

So farewell Twitter. I’ll miss a lot of you. Perhaps not as badly as I miss Simon Maloy and Roger Ebert and Harris Wittels and others whose deaths created an unfillable void on the platform. But I won’t miss the yelling, and the lionization of poor grammar, and anonymous trolls telling my Jewish friends that they were gonna leave the country “via chimney.” I will not miss people who think Trump is a stable genius calling me a “fucktard.” I will not miss transphobia or cancelling but I will miss hashtag games, particularly my stellar work during #mypunkmusical (Probably should have quit after that surge, I was on fire that night, real blaze of glory stuff I mean, Christ, Sunday in the Park with the Germs? Husker Du I Hear A Waltz? Fiddler on the Roof (keeping an eye out for the cops)? These are Pulitzer contenders.). Twitter makes me feel lousy, even when I’m right, and I’m often right. There’s just no point in barking bumperstickers at each other, and there are people who are speaking truth to power and doing a cleaner job of it – Aaron Rupar, Steven Pasquale, Louise Mensch, Imani Gandy and Ijeoma Oluo to name five solid mostly politically based accounts (Yes, Pasquale is a Broadway tenor. He’s also a tenacious lefty with good points and research and a dreamy voice. You think you’re straight and then you hear him sing anything from Bridges of Madison County and you want him to spoon you.). You’re probably already following those mentioned, but on the off chance you’re not, get to it. You’ll thank me, but you won’t be able to unless you actually have my email.

_______

[1] And Jesus, that’s worse – Ithaca is such a lefty enclave that they had an actual socialist mayor FOR WHOM I VOTED while I was there. And not socialist the way some people think all Democrats are socialist – I mean Ben Nichols actually ran on the socialist ticket and was re-elected twice for a total of six years.

[2] The National Gay and Lesbian Chamber of Commerce, “America’s LGBT Economy” Jan 20th, 2017

[3] The Violence Policy Institute, Firearm Justifiable Homicides and Non-Fatal Self Defense Gun Use, July 2019.

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spn-safeandsound · 4 years

Text

03. Hero Gets the Girl

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x03; Dead in the Water

Word Count: 8,106

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore

Author’s Note: More like ‘Dean in the Water’, am I right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Make sure to reblog and like!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

Julia's nose practically touched the pages of her bible as she bent over it, reading a passage from First Corinthians. She only picked at the fries on her plate as she silently read her mother's favorite verse over and over. The page was almost worn, as it had been for years, and the verse was highlighted in blue so it stuck out. She had it memorized—it was only four words, after all—but something about seeing the words on the page calmed her down.

Do everything in love.

It was such a simple verse but her mom recited every day—sometimes more than a few times a day, depending on the situation. Naomi loved helping people until the day she died, running the philanthropy department of Petersen Sports Co. until she could no longer keep up. She was as saint like as you could get without actually being a saint but she never preached needlessly at you and she didn't push her beliefs on anyone.

She was Naomi...and Julia missed her so much.

November thirtieth was always hard on Julia, no matter what. Usually she barricaded herself in her room and watched her mom's favorite movie—which, ironically, was Dirty Dancing—and ate chocolate chip cookies but she didn't have the time or proper setting to do that. She was on the road with the Winchester brothers so that was doing a little bit to help her feel better.

Sam sat at her left and watched her carefully, looking at the melancholy expression on her face. "Did you call Beth yet?"

"She called me," she informed him, smiling softly at the thought of her oldest sister. "and she let me talk to Lizzie. She's such a talker these days."

Sam chuckled. "Well, she is Beth's kid."

"Yeah, that's true," Julia agreed; Dean may have thought that she talked too much but she didn't compare to Bethany. Her oldest sister's voice was probably the most recognizable sound to her because of her endless talking. "I called Abby."

"What's she up to?"

"A hunt down in Texas. She said something about a spirit. Levi's in meetings all day but we're gonna talk tonight."

"And your dad?"

Julia sighed heavily, looking down at her bible as her eyes started to sting. "Haven't heard from him."

Sam frowned in sympathy, watching as she practically curled into herself. She went back to reading her bible, her index finger trailing softly over the highlighted verse.

It was then that Dean walked over to them, a pile of newspapers in his hands so he could start looking for their next case. He sat in the stool on Julia's right side and stole a fry from her plate.

"You okay, shortcake?"

"Dean..." Sam gave him a warning look.

Sam knew how depressed Julia got on the last day of November. She didn't need his brother bothering her when the loss of her mom was still so fresh. Still, if anyone could understand her pain, it would be Dean. He was old enough to remember their mother and her death, so they had kindred experiences.

Dean immediately understood the look Sam gave him. He grimaced and softly patted Julia on the shoulder and Sam swore he saw his thumb rub soothing circles into the fabric of her shirt but he could just be imaging things. Either way, that was the closest he had seen Dean comfort a girl in his life.

Julia gave him a soft smile and pushed her plate of fries toward him. Sam watched in slight awe as Dean accepted the fries with a large smile; Julia never shared her fries with anyone. Sam couldn't count the amount of times his hand had been slapped away from her plate because he was trying to steal one—they were her ultimate favorite food.

Dean went to work on looking through the obituaries in the newspapers he collected, circling deaths that seemed suspicious. Sam pulled out his phone and started checking his emails, helplessly hoping that maybe his dad would have sent him one. Julia turned to Revelations and started studying for her New Testament final that she would be taking online.

"Can I get you anything else?" a pretty blonde waitress walked over to them, dropping a flirty smile at Dean.

Dean looked up, pen resting against his lips, and grinned.

Sam cleared his throat. "Just the check, please."

"Okay," the waitress sent Sam a smile and then turned to walk to the register on the other side of the bar.

Dean groaned in displeasure and glared at Sam over Julia's head. "You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while," he gestured toward the waitress, who was dressed for tips. "That is fun."

Sam gave Dean an unimpressed look, making the older brother sigh.

"Here, take a look at this," he slid the newspaper he was looking down the bar to him. "I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week, Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water, nothing."

"Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year," Dean continued. "None of the bodies were found, either."

Julia frowned and pulled the paper over to her, quickly reading through the obituary. "She was the swim team captain at her school?"

"Yep," Dean confirmed. "None of the other bodies were found, either. They had a funeral two days ago."

Sam looked over at him, his eyebrows raised. "A funeral?"

"Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin," Dean shrugged. "For, uh, closure of whatever."

Julia was all for whatever helped people cope with their grief but she didn't really understand why the family just didn't have a memorial for the poor girl. Then again, it certainly wasn't her business.

"Closure," Sam scoffed sourly. "What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them."

Dean turned in his stool to face Sam, sensing his displeasure. Truthfully, he'd picked on up the fact that Sam was irritated they weren't actively trying to find Dad for a few days now. "Something you want to say to me?"

Dean was an upfront guy; he didn't like passive aggressive bullshit.

Sam inhaled deeply. "The trail for Dad—it's getting colder every day."

"Exactly," Dean pointed out. "So, what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Something. Anything."

"You know what, I'm sick of your attitude," Dean's eyes narrowed in irritation as his voice lowered in anger. "You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?"

"Yeah, I know you do, it's just—"

"I'm the one who's been with him every day for the past four years while you've been off to college going to pep rallies," Dean cut Sam off coldly. "We will find Dad but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there, okay?"

Sam rolled his eyes heavily, making Dean bristle. Sensing that their argument was going to stumble out of control—like they sometimes did with brothers who both had the famous Winchester temper—Julia spoke up.

"Please stop, all right?" she looked between them, her eyes wide and sad; Dean and Sam almost immediately melted—her puppy-eyed look was almost lethal compared to Sam's. "Please."

"All right," Sam sighed, giving in. "Lake Manitoc. How far?"

Dean grinned at him and grabbed the check when the waitress delivered it, a phone number at the bottom.

They reached Lake Manitoc within a couple of hours, having already been in Minnesota for a small spirit case that had Julia torching her first corpse. They decided to head to the victim's family first before they went to the police station to question the sheriff about the recent drownings and missing bodies.

The Carlton residence was a basic cabin, right on Lake Manitoc. It was a cute little home with dark green shutters that made Julia smile sadly. The house looked well loved and she felt horrible that the family was going through this kind of grief.

Grief from a family member dying was one thing. When that person died of something that couldn't easily be explained? That was worse—much, much worse.

Dean knocked on the front door of the cabin; a man around his age opened the door, giving them a questioning look.

"Will Carlton?" Dean asked him; the man nodded. "I'm Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamill and junior Agent Fisher. We're with the US Wildlife Service."

Behind his back, Julia gave him an unimpressed look. Did he think he was being slick using the most notable stars of the popular Star Wars franchise? And he had to quit with this junior agent and intern stuff—she wasn't that much younger than him and Sam and she wasn't a kid by any means.

"More questions?" Will sighed.

Julia gave him a sad smile. "Sorry, but it's for our investigation."

Will nodded and walked out onto the porch. He led them closer to the lake, his eyes on the closest dock. There was an older man sitting on it, looking out at the lake with depressed eyes.

"First off, we'd like to give you our condolences," Sam said softly as came to a stop. "We've heard great things about Sophie."

Will gave him a half-hearted smile that spoke volumes with just how sad he was. Julia's heart ached with sympathy.

Sam and Dean started asking him questions, hoping to get a better insight on the circumstances surrounding Sophie's death. They were careful not to offend the man while also trying to get as much information as they could.

"She was about a hundred yards out," Will nodded at the lake, answering Sam's question about where he last saw Sophie. "That's where she was dragged down."

"And you're sure she didn't just drown?" Dean prodded.

"Yeah," Will scoffed and smiled fondly. "She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as she was in her own bathtub."

"So, no splashing? No signs of distress?"

"No, that's what I'm telling you."

"Did you see any shadows in the water?" Sam followed up. "Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?"

"No," Will shook his head. "Again, she was really far out there."

"You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?" Dean spoke up.

"No, never. Why?" Will stiffened, looking paranoid. "Why, what do you think is out there?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we do," Julia assured him kindly. "Thanks for your time, Mr. Carlton."

"What about your father?" Sam asked Will as Julia and Dean started back toward the Impala; they paused to listen to Will's answer. "Can we talk to him?"

Will looked over to the dock; his dad was in the same position, looking down at the dark water below him. "Look, if you don't mind, I mean," he said hesitantly. "he didn't see anything and he's kind of been through a lot."

Sam nodded and gave him a small smile. "We understand. Thanks again."

Julia, Dean, and Sam got into the Impala and drove off. As they headed to the police station to ask the sheriff for more details about the case, it was almost too quiet. It unnerved Julia because usually Dean had some of his music playing and although she wasn't the biggest fan of mullet rock—as Sam put it—she preferred it to silence.

"Why isn't there any snow?" she spoke up, looking out her window. "Shouldn't there be snow?"

She had lived in Chicago all of her life up until she left for college in California and there was usually some snow that fell around this time of year. And Chicago was much more south than Lake Manitoc. Bethany had told her just that morning that they had a few inches of snow already at home.

"Global warming's a bitch," Dean answered.

Julia laughed lightly in agreement before picking up the local newspaper she bought when they got to town. She had been interested in the front headline, which was giving the town's residence more details about the nearby dam that was falling apart. When they arrived at the police station, she had read the whole article and discovered that the government had decided not fund any repairs.

"Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?" the sheriff, who introduced himself as Jake, asked them as he led them to his office.

"You sure it's accidental?" Sam raised his eyebrows at him. "Will Carlton saw something grab his sister."

"Like what? Here, sit please," Jake gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk; Dean let Julia and Sam sit in them. "There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person unless it was the Loch Ness Monster."

"Yeah," Dean chuckled awkwardly. "Right."

"Will Carlton was traumatized and sometimes the mind plays tricks," Jake went on as he sat in his own seat. "Sill, we dragged that lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there."

"That's weird, though," Dean commented. "I mean, that's the third missing body this year."

"I know," Jake agreed sadly and a little defensively. "These are my people from my town. These are people I care about."

"I know."

"Anyway," Jake sighed and leaned back in his chair. "All this won't be a problem much longer."

Dean gave him a curious look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the dam, of course."

"It's falling apart," Julia spoke up, knowing that their aliases probably should have known about something that would so drastically affect the town's wildlife; Sam and Dean gave her questioning looks while Jake nodded solemnly.

"And the Feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway," Jake added; Dean and Sam were impressed with Julia's sudden knowledge of the town that saved their asses. "In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either."

Dean gave the sheriff a weak smile and went to speak but wasn't able to. An attractive woman around his age had knocked on the door, getting the man's attention.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" the woman asked sheepishly. "I can come back later."

Jake stood up; Julia and Sam followed his lead. "This is my daughter."

Dean grinned at her. "Pleasure to meet you," he shook her hand. "I'm Dean."

"Andrea Barr," the woman introduced herself. "Hi."

"Hi."

"They're from the Wildlife Service," Jake informed Andrea pointedly. "About the lake."

Andrea's face visibly fell. "Oh."

A little boy with a bored and depressed expression on his face walked into the room after her. Julia gave him a small smile; she loved kids and had always wanted to be a mother but, unfortunately, that wasn't in the cards for her.

"Oh, hey there," Dean spotted the boy too. "What's your name?"

The boy seemed very shy; he hurried away from them to go sit at a table outside of the office. Andrea gave them an apologetic look and followed after him, taking out crayons and some paper to give him.

"His name is Lucas," Jake informed them, watching his grandson with a sad smile.

Julia perked up at the name. She felt like it was a sign from her guardian angel that she happened to be working a case on the anniversary of her mom's death that involved a boy with her father's name. He hadn't contacted her at all today, so she felt like the angels were assuring her that she'd be okay.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked, watching the little boy take the crayons from his mother and start to draw on the construction paper in front of him.

"My grandson's been through a lot. We all have," Jake sighed as he walked toward his office door. "Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know."

"Thank you for your help," Julia smiled at the sheriff gratefully as they left his office.

"You know," Dean turned back to Jake and Andrea halfway out of the station, though he was speaking mostly to Andrea. "now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?"

"Lakefront Motel," Andrea informed him. "Go around the corner. It's about two blocks up."

"Two—" Dean scratched his head, acting confused. "Would you mind showing us?"

Andrea chuckled, amused. "You want me to walk you two blocks?"

Dean smiled sheepishly. "Not if it's any trouble."

"I'm headed that way anyway," Andrea turned to her dad. "I'll be back to pick up Lucas at three," she kissed her son's head and promised, "We'll go to the park, okay, sweetie?"

"Thanks again," Sam told Jake before he and Julia followed Dean and Andrea out of the station.

As they walked through the bustling town square, Julia squinted around. It was pretty much December and it wasn't cold and there was no sign of winter weather. Andrea was wearing a t-shirt and skirt for crying out loud and no one that they passed was wearing any sort of coat. The only sign that it had been fall was the bare trees and dead leaves blowing around in the slight breeze.

"So," Dean cleared his throat to get Andrea's attention. "cute kid."

"Thanks," Andrea smiled before leading them across a street.

"Kids are the best, huh?" he laughed.

Andrea gave him a clearly amused look but didn't answer as they walked closer to the motel. They stopped on the sidewalk in front of the building and Andrea turned to Dean with a smirk.

"There it is," she gestured to the motel. "Like I said, two blocks."

Julia laughed lightly, amused at the woman's spunk. She liked that she wasn't falling at Dean's feet like most women would. She was smart and knew that he was trying to get on her good side. "Thanks."

Andrea grinned at her before looking back at Dean. "Must be hard with your sense of direction," she commented, her tone sarcastic. "never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line."

Julia gaped at her, a laugh escaping her throat before she could stop it. Andrea left with a satisfied smirk on her face, calling back to them, "Enjoy your stay!"

Dean was at a loss for words but he did manage to send Julia an annoyed look. Julia controlled her laughter but she was beaming at him, her cheeks red with mirth and her dimple out.

Sam grinned at Dean, just as amused as Julia. "Kids are the best?" he repeated Dean's earlier line. "You don't even like kids."

"I love kids!" Dean defended himself.

"Name three children that you even know," Sam dared him.

"Lizzie," Dean said immediately, naming Julia's five-year-old niece.

"Okay, that's one," Julia commented. "How about two more?"

Dean pressed his lips together and pulled his hands out of his pockets to count on his fingers. He took too long to say another name, since he didn't know any other children, and Sam got bored. He started toward the motel's front off with Julia on his trail.

"I'm thinking!" Dean called after them, scratching his head.

Since Julia was paying for this motel stay—she, Sam, and Dean agreed that she would pay for every-other motel they had to stop at—she splurged for an extra room like usual. When the Winchester were paying, she had to share the bed with Sam but she enjoyed a room to herself, especially since Sam was a giant and took up eighty-five percent of the bed. The only thing was that the rooms had to be connected; Dean was adamant about that, especially since she was in training and he was worried if something would happen.

Dean's concern was sweet but sometimes Julia liked her privacy. Especially since she spent all of her time with two grown men.

She laid on the bed in her room on her stomach, her feet swaying in the air above her as she typed the class discussion that was due that night for her Archaic Latin class. The connecting door to Sam and Dean's room was open and she could hear Sam typing away but other than that, it was pretty quiet other than her quiet humming that helped her concentrate on her work.

She looked up from her laptop as Dean entered her room.

"You saved our asses back there at the station, you know."

She gave him a confused look, having already forgotten what he was talking about. "What do you mean?"

"What you said about the dam," he reminded her. "If you hadn't of said something, I'm pretty sure our cover would have been blown."

"Oh," Julia smiled like she did whenever she received praise and looked back at her screen. "It was just luck. I saw an article about it on the newspaper I picked up at the gas station when we got to town."

"Well, either way," Dean shrugged. "You did good," he sat down at the end of the bed, just behind her computer. "Whatcha doing?"

"Class discussion," her eyes were back on him, unable to focus now.

"Class?"

Julia nodded at the confused look on his face. "It's the last week before finals."

"What class?"

"Classes," she elaborated, sharing her class schedule. "New Testament, Archaic Latin, Aramaic, Islam, and French."

Dean gave her an impressed look. "You're doing all of that online?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed. "I had an internship at Stanford so I was able to do my classes online."

"What about next semester?"

"Already registered and they're all online again," she assured him.

"And then you graduate?"

Julia nodded proudly; she had worked so hard on her education all her life, even skipping a few grades so they she could attend college with Sam. "Double major in religion and linguistics."

"That's great, I'm really proud of you, Julia," Dean said with an impressed smile; Julia beamed at him. "Don't tell Sam but I kinda wished I went to college, too."

Julia gave him a surprised look. She had never heard Dean say anything about his want for higher education, especially since he dropped out of high school. "Really?" she asked. "What would you major in?"

"Mechanical engineering, I think," Dean answered her. "I like making things and working with my hands."

"You're great at that," Julia agreed, knowing that he would had been great at his job if he had gone down that road. "Remember when you built that barbie house for me?"

Dean grinned at the memory, his cheeks slightly flushing. "That's not quite the same, Junior."

"I know that, I'm just saying," Julia rolled her eyes playfully. "You're a genius with that kind of stuff."

Dean smiled, secretly pleased with what she was saying. Sam was the smart brother and he had always been but Dean had some tricks up his sleeve, too. It was nice to have someone acknowledge that side of him. Over the years he had picked up skills and making things was one of his favorites. He had made an EMF device out of a Walkman once, which he was particularly proud of and still used.

"Guys!" Sam called from the other room, breaking Julia and Dean out of their little world. "Come here, I found more information."

Dean got up and walked back into his room, Julia rolling out of bed to follow him. Sam was at the table, his laptop in front of him. He had been on the thing for an hour or so, so she wasn't surprised to see that he had discovered something.

"So, there's the three drowning victims this year," Sam stated, bringing up the information he complied.

"Any before that?" Dean asked quickly.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered, either. If there's something out there, it's picking up its pace."

"Maybe it's picking up the pace because the lake's being drained," Julia spoke up thoughtfully.

"Might be," Sam agreed.

"So, we got a lake monster on a binge, huh," Dean said dryly, going over to sit on his bed.

Sam shook his head in disagreement. "This whole lake monster theory bugs me," he declared. He explained when Julia gave him a questioning look, "Loch Ness, Lake Champlain, there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts. But here? Almost nothing."

"So, whatever's out there, no one's living to talk about it," Julia assumed.

Dean hummed in agreement and walked back over to the table, hovering over Sam to read over his shoulder. "Barr," he muttered, reading the latest drowning victim before Sophie Carlton. "Christopher Barr. Where have I heard that name before?"

"Christopher Barr, the victim in May," Sam took a closer look at the article, scrolling further down the page. There was a picture of Lucas in the middle of the writing, bundled up in a large towel with soaked hair. "Oh, Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband and Lucas' father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating platform when Chris drowned; it was two hours before the kid got rescued."

Julia sighed sadly. "Poor little guy."

"Maybe we have an eyewitness after all," Sam scratched his head.

"No wonder that kid was so freaked out," Dean said quietly, getting Julia and Sam's attention. "Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over."

The knowing, faraway look in Dean's eyes made Julia's heart ache. Dean never talked about his mom or if he saw what actually happened to her. Julia assumed that he did, by his comment. It was hard for her to witness her mom die when she was a teenager and her mom died of something human. She couldn't imagine when Dean went through at four years old, watching his mom die because of a supernatural creature.

He was too young. No kid should have to go through something that traumatic.

Knowing that Andrea was picking up Lucas from her dad around three, Julia, Sam, and Dean headed to the park around the same time. They wanted to see if they could get anything out of Lucas without traumatizing him further and Dean had volunteered to talk to the kid while Sam and Julia spoke with his mom.

The three of them walked through the park, spotting Andrea sitting at a bench just outside of the play area. She was watching Lucas, who didn't seem like he wanted to join in on the rambunctious activities by the jungle gym. He was perfectly content to sit at a bench and color.

"Can we join you?" Julia asked Andrea as they approached the bench she was sitting on.

Andrea looked up, smiling slightly when she saw them there. "I'm here with my son."

"Oh, mind if I say hi?" Dean wondered, walking away toward Lucas before Andrea could agree to his request. Andrea didn't seem all that bothered by it, turning to Julia as she sat next to her.

"You should tell your friend that this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me," she said, amused, as they all watched Dean greet Lucas.

"I don't think that's what this is about," Sam spoke up, watching Dean thoughtfully.

"We heard about your husband," Julia said apologetically; Andrea frowned sadly. "Dean went through something similar as Lucas when he was a kid."

"Really?" Andrea looked relieved that he wasn't just talking to her son to get in her good graces.

Sam nodded. "Our mom," he explained. "I don't remember much but Dean—well, from what I heard, he didn't speak for a long while afterwards."

"I know the feeling," Andrea sighed sadly, glancing back at Lucas and Dean. "Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad's accident."

"I'm sorry," Julia grabbed her hand and squeezed comfortingly as Dean started walking back over. "What are the doctors saying?"

"That's it's some kind of post-traumatic stress."

"That can't be easy," Sam said sympathetically; Dean coming to stand next to him. "for either of you."

"We moved in with my dad," Andrea smiled slightly. "He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went though, what he saw..."

"Kids are strong," Dean said when she trailed off. "You'd be surprised what they can deal with."

"You know, he used to have such life," Andrea smiled back at Lucas as he left his bench; Julia grinned, thinking of her niece who was as crazy as little girls get. "He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now, he just sits there, drawing those pictures and playing with those army men. I just wish—" she abruptly changed the subject as Lucas came up to them. "Hey, sweetie."

Lucas' eyes were on the ground but he held out a picture he drew for Dean. The picture was of a cabin and it was pretty good for kid his age.

"Thanks," Dean looked at with a smile. "Thanks, Lucas."

Lucas just slouched off, going back to his bench to color.

The next morning, Dean and Julia were eating the breakfast he had picked up when Sam walked back into the room. He slammed the door shut behind him and took a seat next to Dean on his bed.

"So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie," he said dryly.

Dean gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I just drove past the Carlton house," Sam informed them. "There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead."

Julia stiffened, horrified. "Did he drown?"

"Yep, in the sink."

"What the fuck?" Dean took the last bite of his breakfast sandwich. "So, you were right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else."

"What could it be?" Julia wondered.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...water that comes from the same source."

"The lake," she stated; it seemed like her assumption the day before was correct. Whatever this thing was, it wanted to get its agenda done before the lake was completely drained.

"You were right, J," Sam commented. "It explains why it's upping the body count. It's running out of time."

"And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere," Dean added, standing up and crumpling his wrapper. "This is gonna happen again soon."

"And we do know one thing for sure," Sam sighed. "This has got something to do with Bill Carlton."

"It took both of his kids," Julia hummed.

"And I've been asking around," Sam added. "Lucas' dad, Chris? He was Bill Carlton's godson."

Dean sighed and pulled on his boots. "Well, let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit."

Julia stayed in the car while Dean and Sam questioned Mr. Carlton, and talked to her brother, Levi, since they hadn't gotten to talk the day before. It was a nice conversation but a little awkward since they weren't the closest of siblings.

Levi and Abby were kind of loners growing up and now that Levi was an adult, he was quiet unless he was pitching meetings to the company or selling big item products. Still, Julia loved him and she was glad they got in touch. He was a little worried about her on the road and was more than a little skeptical about Dean and Sam training her as opposed to Abby or their dad but he liked the brothers so it didn't come from a bad place.

After Sam and Dean talked to Mr. Carlton—tried to talk, anyway, since the poor man didn't feel like talking—they discovered that the drawing Lucas gave Dean at the park was actually the cabin the Carltons lived. They went to Andrea's house next so Dean could talk to him and he was presented with another drawing, this time of a yellow two-story house near a church with a little stick-figure boy and a red bike.

"Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died," Dean informed Julia and Sam as they rode around town, searching for the yellow house in the drawing.

Honestly, this case was hitting close to home for all of them—but mostly for Dean and Julia. For Dean, he could see himself in the little boy; his parent died and he stopped speaking out of grief. For Julia, besides the fact that Lucas shared her dad's name, it was he that knew things that other people wouldn't always know.

Julia knew how that felt; all her life she knew of things that would just randomly pop into her head and, of course, she had the bad feelings she got once in a while, like with Dean and Sam. It would scare her in the beginning, to see her family look at her in confusion—like how she stated the day before the news broke about President Clinton that he was going to be on trial—but she never thought of herself as a freak. To her knowledge, her family didn't, either.

"There are cases—" Sam sighed doubtfully. "going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies..."

"Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow?" Dean asked; Sam made an uncommitted sound that made him stiffen. "I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please."

"It wouldn't hurt, Sam," Julia spoke up. "You know that sometimes these things happen."

"All right," Sam gave into the pressure Dean and Julia were putting on him. "we got another house to find."

"The only problem is there's about a thousand yellow two-stories in this county alone," Dean grumbled.

Julia hummed and leaned forward, studying the drawing on Sam's lap. "What about the church?"

"True," Sam agreed. "I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here."

"Ooh, college kids," Dean teased them playfully. "you think you're so smaht, huh?"

Sam laughed and Julia joined in, pushing Dean's shoulder before sitting back in her seat.

They drove around the town, looking for the churches in the area. They had already looked at four of them when they came across a white church, almost identical to the drawing Lucas gave Dean. Right across the street happened to be a yellow two-story.

Dean and Sam nodded at each other before the three of them walked up to the house and knocked on the door. An old woman answered the door, looking at them in confusion. She let them in without a word—and introduced herself as Helen Sweeney—so apparently they passed her silent test. Or she was just a sweet lady who didn't think any harm would come to her in a small town like Manitoc Lake.

"We're sorry to bother, ma'am, but does a little boy live here, by chance?" Dean asked her politely. "He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle."

"No, sir," Mrs. Sweeney said sadly. "Not for a very long time. Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now," she glanced at an old picture of an adolescent boy sitting on the nearest table. "The police never—I never had any idea of what happened. He just disappeared."

Julia pressed her lips together sadly and looked around Mrs. Sweeney's home. It looked like a shrine to her lost son. There were a bunch of pictures, toys, balls, and even some small green army men just like the ones they saw Lucas playing with.

"Losing him," Mrs. Sweeney shook her head slowly. "you know, it's...it's worse than dying."

Dean and Sam gave each other a pointed look—that was the exact phrase that Bill Carlton had used when talking about his recently-deceased children.

"Mrs. Sweeney," Julia gave her a gentle smile, keeping her voice soft. "Did Peter disappear from the house?"

Mrs. Sweeney shook her head. "He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school but he never showed up."

Julia gave her a sympathetic smile and helped her sit down before offering to get her a glass of water. As she disappeared into the kitchen, Mrs. Sweeney allowed Sam and Dean to look around.

Dean spotted a picture of Peter and another little boy in a mirror hung on the way. He studied it and then turned it over to read the writing on the back.

"Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, nineteen-seventy," he muttered.

With the realization that the whole situation with Peter Sweeney going missing and being somehow connected to Bill Carlton, the three of them left shortly after Julia came back into the room with a glass of water for Mrs. Sweeney.

Sam, Julia, and Dean theorized that Bill must have killed Peter when he was a little boy and was now going after Bill Carlton. First, he killed Bill's children so that he would know the pain his mother went through when he went missing and then he'd take Bill for himself. As they raced to Bill Carlton's house, they knew Peter had gotten his revenge.

Bill had gone out onto the lake with his small motorized boat and in the middle of it; the boat flipped over on a very small wave that came out of nowhere and Bill plunged into the lake. He didn't resurface.

Julia, Dean, and Sam were led into the police station by Jake for questioning about Bill's death. It was suspicious to the sheriff that they just so happened to be at Bill's cabin at the same time as his boat flipped over.

Andrea and Lucas were waiting for Jake with a bucket of fried chicken when they walked into the building. She looked up in surprise when she saw them trailing behind her father.

"Sam, Dean, Julia," she furrowed her eyebrows and stood up. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"So, now you're on a first-name basis?" Jake asked her. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you dinner."

"Sorry, sweetheart," Jake apologized. "I don't really have the time."

Andrea glanced at Julia, Dean, and Sam before looking back at her father. "I heard about Bill Carlton," she crossed her arms over her chest. "Is it true? Is something going on with the lake?"

"Right now, we don't know what the truth is but I think it might be better if you and Lucas went home," Jake advised.

Lucas looked absolutely panicked at the thought of leaving the station. He jumped out of his chair and ran to Dean. He whimpered as he frantically clutched Dean's arm, tugging at him.

"Lucas, hey, what is it?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Lucas?" Andrea asked uncertainly.

"Lucas, it's okay," Dean comforted the little boy, making Julia's heart ache and melt at the sight—he was damn good with kids. "It's okay, Lucas. It's okay."

Andrea pulled Lucas away from Dean and Lucas let go with a reluctant and stricken face. Andrea silently led him out of the station, giving her dad as hesitant look as they went. Lucas looked back at Dean with fear the whole time he walked away.

Uncomfortable, Jake slipped off his jacket and threw it onto the chair at the front desk. He walked into his office and the others followed him, knowing that they were going to be questioned now.

"Okay, just so I'm clear," Jake sighed heavily, sinking into his chair. "you see...something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the water and you never see him again?

Dean glanced at Julia and Sam before looking back at him. "Yeah, that about sums it up."

"And I'm supposed to believe this even though I've already sonar-swept the entire lake?" Jake asked skeptically. "And what you're describing is impossible? And the fact that you're not really Wildlife Service?"

Julia's face fell in surprise. It wouldn't be far out to think that Dean and Sam felt the same way.

"That's right," Jake observed their expressions. "I checked. The department's never heard of you three."

Dean hastily started to make an excuse. "See, now, we can explain that."

"Enough," Jake snapped. "The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here."

Julia pressed her lips together; she really didn't like this guy.

"I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as a material witness to Bill's Carlton's disappearance," Jake listed, pointing a finger in their faces. "Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get in your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again."

Sam spoke up before Dean's temper and Julia's indignance got them into more trouble. "Door number two sounds good."

"That's the one I'd pick," Jake nodded harshly.

Julia, Sam, and Dean quickly took their leave, making a quick pit stop back at the motel to grab their things and check out. Dean was quiet as they loaded up the Impala and got some gas and when they pulled up to a red light that would lead them out of town and toward Milwaukee, he didn't move when the light turned green.

"Green," Sam drawled, getting Dean's attention.

"What?"

"The light's green."

Dean waited a few seconds before pressing the gas. He turned right, pulling onto the road that would bring them back into town.

"Uh, the interstate's the other way," Sam pointed out flatly.

"I know," Dean didn't seem to care.

Julia was glad that they were going back. They may have thought that only Bill Carlton and his family were connected to this but Lucas was so scared when his grandfather told him and his mom to leave the station. He had practically anchored himself to Dean before Andrea got him to let go. He was terrified and with all the correct signs he'd given them before, why wouldn't they believe him now?

"Dean, I think this job is over," Sam tried to get Dean to act rationally.

Dean shook his head firmly. "I'm not so sure."

"If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed," Sam pointed out. "The spirit should be at rest."

"All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done?" Dean asked him. "You know, what if we've missing something? What if more people get hurt?"

Sam gave him a weird look. "Why would you think that?"

Dean pressed his lips together and Julia spoke up in his defense. "Sam, Lucas looked really scared..."

Sam glanced back at her and, when she subtly nodded in Dean's direction, he looked back at his brother with wide eyes. "That's what this is about?"

"I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay," Dean declared firmly.

"Who are you?" Sam scoffed in amusement. "and what have you done with my brother?"

Dean glared at him. "Shut up."

"Dean, just admit you like kids," Julia rolled her eyes playfully.

"You shut up, too."

It was a good thing that Dean was so stubborn about going back to check on Lucas because, when they got to the Barr residence, Andrea was being drowned by Peter's spirit in the bathtub. Julia and Sam pulled her to safety while Dean held Lucas back from harm but it was still scary for the both of them.

It was when Dean discovered that Jake had been friends with Peter Sweeney and Bill Carlton that Lucas ran out of their house and pointed to a patch of dirt out by the lake. When Sam and Dean dug up Peter's red bicycle, Jake had arrived and threatened them with a gun.

It went quickly after that; Dean had confronted Jake about helping Bill Carlton kill Peter Sweeney and Jake admitted that it was an accident and they left the body go in the lake. Lucas was lured into the lake by Peter and Jake surrendered to the spirit in order to save his grandson.

Despite losing Jake, they were able to save Lucas and Andrea.

Dean was melancholy all morning the day after, still sulking about the fact that Jake had been killed by Peter. Julia was sad to see him so down on himself when he was the main person who kept Lucas and Andrea safe—he believed in Lucas and he made sure they stayed in town to protect them.

Sam noticed the same thing as Julia. "Look," he sighed as he slung his and Julia's bags into the trunk. "we're not gonna save everybody."

Dean nodded. "I know."

"Turn that frown upside-down, Bean," Julia used her childhood nickname for him and reached up, playfully poking his chin. The corners of his lips lifted even though he swatted her hand away from his face. "You guys saved Andrea and Lucas. That's what matters."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

"Sam, Dean, Julia!" Andrea called as she and Lucas ran up to them.

"Hey," Dean grinned at her.

"We're glad we caught you," Andrea declared. "We just, uh, we made you lunch for the road. Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches for himself."

"That's super sweet of you, Lucas," Julia gave him a sweet smile.

Lucas smiled sheepishly and looked up at his mom. "Can I give it to them now?"

Julia's eyes widened when she heard Lucas speak and let out a small huff of relief. She could tell by the look in Andrea's eyes that she was so relieved to see her son back to his old self.

"Of course," Andrea kissed his head.

"Come on, Lucas, let's load this into the car," Dean gestured the kid over to the Impala.

When they were out of hearing range, Sam turned to Andrea. "How are you holding up?"

"It's gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?" Andrea smiled sadly.

Sam sighed apologetically. "Andrea, I'm sorry."

Andrea shook her head. "You saved my son. I can't ask for more than that. Dad loved me and he loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold onto that."

Julia grinned at her. "You're very wise, you know? You remind me of my mom."

Sam gave his best friend a sad smile and wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulder. Andrea gave her a grateful look and Julia was surprised when she pulled both her and Sam into a hug. If it had been a different life, she could really see herself being friends with Andrea.

The three of them walked over to the Impala, where Dean was sitting in the backseat so he was down at Lucas' level.

"All right," they overheard him say to Lucas. "if you're gonna be talking now, this is a very important phrase. So, I want you to repeat it one more time."

"Zeppelin rules!" Lucas exclaimed.

"That's right!" Dean grinned and held up his hand for a high-five. "Up high."

Lucas slapped his hand against Dean's. It was all very cute.

"You take care of your mom, okay?" Dean told Lucas seriously.

Lucas nodded. "All right."

Dean stood up when he noticed that Julia, Sam, and Andrea were watching them. Surprisingly, Andrea pulled Dean into a short kiss to show her thanks that had Sam and Julia raising their eyebrows at each other in amusement.

"Thank you," Andrea whispered as she pulled away from him.

Dean stared at her for a second before awkwardly scratching his head. "Sam, Jules, move your asses," he told Sam and Julia as he walked around to the driver's side. "We're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road."

He was being dramatic since it was ten in the morning but Sam and Julia indulged him. It was clear that he was feeling uncharacteristically awkward from the kiss Andrea gave him and it was all kinds of endearing.

Julia gave Andrea and Lucas a final smile. "You two be safe."

What was left of the Barr family agreed as she slipped into the backseat. They waved as Dean drove off, his music blasting loudly.

"Hero gets the girl," Julia sighed, leaning her chin on the front seat. "and the other two get ham sandwiches and bananas."

Sam chuckled while Dean rolled his eyes in amusement.

"I'll eat your sandwiches if you don't shut up."

"Touch them and die, bitch."

(Gif is not mine)

#supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x original character

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perlukafarinn · 5 years

Note

Prompt: star trek-related destiel? Could be AU, canon-verse-but-magically-transported-to-st-verse, or just discussing and/or watching star trek :)

(I went with fusion, with Dean as Kirk and Cas as Spock. Also there’s pon farr, because how could I not.)

Dean’s first officer has been avoiding him for five days.

He’s showing up for his shifts, of course, because Cas is nothing if not a consummate professional but he won’t look at Dean, not even when he is speaking to him directly. He will also turn and walk the other way if they see each other in the hallways, and if he’s in the cafeteria when Dean enters he will immediately leave.

Dean is sick of it and, if he’s being honest, a little hurt. He’s not sure what he did to justify such treatment; he hasn’t broken the prime directive in months and the last three away missions they did he avoided life threatening situations all together.

On top of it, he’s apparently been acting off around other members of the crew, although not avoiding them outright. He’s been short with them, once even snapping at poor Ensign Kline.

When he brings it up with Sam, his chief medical officer and pain-in-the-ass little brother, he gets no definite answers.

“Commander Castiel is... dealing with something,” is Sam’s cryptic answer. “Look, just ask him about it. I can’t tell you anything that will violate doctor-patient confidentiality.”

Dean takes notice of that. “Cas is sick?”

“No, it’s-” Sam sighs. “Seriously, talk to him. If you ask him straight out, he’ll probably tell you. You’re his best friend.”

“Nice way he has of showing it,” Dean mutters.

Still, Sam isn’t wrong often. Dean heads down to Cas’ quarters and knocks, praying that he can’t somehow sense him on the other side of the door with his Vulcan mojo and ignore him.

A few moments later, the door slides open. Something has to be wrong with Cas, because Dean can actually see surprise flickering across his face before being replaced by the usual deadpan expression.

“Captain,” Cas greets.

“Commander,” Dean says dryly. “Can I come in?”

Cas wants to refuse him, Dean can tell, but he apparently can’t think of a good enough reason to because he inclines his head slightly and steps out of the way.

Dean enters. The room is even warmer than Cas usually keeps it, the air stale and stifling. Maybe Cas is coming down with a cold?

“I’m gonna cut right to the chase,” Dean says, turning around. He frowns when he notices that Cas has both hands behind his back, his forearms tense as if he’s clenching his fists. “You’ve been acting strange lately and I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

Cas takes a few moments to respond. “If any complaints have been lodged against me-”

Dean holds up his hand. “It’s nothing like that. I’m here as your friend, not your captain.”

“Very well. As my friend, I expect you to respect my privacy.”

Dean waits but Cas is apparently done talking. He considers saying to hell with it and just ordering Cas to tell him what’s wrong, but he can’t abuse his position like that no matter how badly he wants to.

“Cas, come on, you’re obviously upset about something. And don’t,” he adds quickly, “say that Vulcans don’t get upset. We both know that’s bullshit.”

“Then I am not sure what you want me to tell you.”

“Tell me what’s wrong!” Dean swallows. “Was it something I did?”

Cas pales. “Dean, no!” He seems taken aback in the next moment at his own outburst. “No, I - it was nothing you did, I assure you.”

“Then what is it?”

“It... has to do with biology.”

Dean narrows his eyes, confused at the unexpected answer. “What kind of biology?”

“Vulcan biology.”

“You mean the biology of Vulcans?”

Cas exhales slowly, looking very much like he’s second-guessing his decision to entrust Dean with this delicate information. “Yes. It is a deeply private matter, one that is rarely shared with outsiders.”

This is becoming more confusing by the second. Dean knows that Vulcans are a secretive bunch but what could possibly require such secrecy?

A thought suddenly strikes him.

“This is about sex, isn’t it?”

Cas purses his lips, his nostrils flaring slightly. He seems to be seriously regretting telling Dean anything, and Dean is half-expecting him to kick him out of his quarters, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he tells him everything. About pon farr. and his need to return home and take a mate. His lack of a mate, since his intended broke their bond some years ago (and Dean has to take a moment there because what the hell, Cas was engaged?).

The fact that if he doesn’t find a mate in time, the fever will kill him, which is especially scary since it would take more than three weeks for them to reach Vulcan.

“So?” Dean says. “Surely they don’t have to be a Vulcan, just look at your parents. Can’t you find someone on board the Enterprise to mate with you? I can think of more than a few who’d be happy to volunteer.”

“Dean-” Cas catches himself. “Captain, I appreciate your efforts to help but it would be highly inappropriate to solicit any member of the crew in this way, as I outrank them and they might find themselves compelled to agree.”

“Then we’ll dock at the nearest station and you’ll find someone there.” Dean throws up his hands, desperate now. He can’t let Cas die, just because they’re too far from his home planet. “Or, hell, I’ll do it, just as long as-”

Cas slams into him, cutting him off short. Dean blinks, disoriented at finding himself suddenly pinned against the wall with six feet of pissed off and horny Vulcan pressed against him (and hello, that is definitely not a phaser in his pants).

“Cas?” Dean tries. He reaches up his hand, closing it over Cas’ currently grasping tightly at his collar. “You okay?”

“You have no idea what you are offering,” Cas says. It looks like it pains him to speak, and it occurs suddenly to Dean that he’s been holding back this entire conversation.

“Hey, it’s just sex.” Dean smiles, though it probably looks half-hearted at best. “Believe it or not, I’ve done it before.”

“But it would not be just sex,” Cas tells him. “Pon farr is... a difficult time. We lose control, revert to an animalistic state. I cannot guarantee I won’t hurt you.”

Dean shifts. He’s feeling a little more affected by Cas’ proximity than he wants to let on, and this talk about animalistic sex sure isn’t helping matters. “Maybe I don’t mind it a little rough.”

Cas makes a pained noise that has no right to sound as sexy as it does.

“It also involves a mental connection, as well as physical one,” he says after a moment to gather himself. “I would need to form a bond with your mind.”

“We’ve mindmelded before,” Dean reminds him. “You told me our minds were compatible.”

Cas stares at him. Dean tugs at his hand, finally prying his fingers from clutching his shirt. He doesn’t let go of it, and Cas doesn’t pull away either.

“It would be more than a simple mindmeld. I may not be able to break it myself. We would be connected in a profound, permanent way, never again completely alone.”

And if that isn’t the scariest, most wonderful thing Dean can think of. He searches Cas’ eyes for some idea of how he feels about it, sees no sign of repulsion or despair, nothing but desperation for Dean to understand.

“Would that be so bad?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Not a verbal one, anyway, because Cas is too busy sticking his tongue down his throat. Dean responds enthusiastically, pressing his fingers against Cas’ as well in a simultaneous human and Vulcan kiss.

Cas is the one to pull away, leaving Dean breathless and a little dizzy.

“Dean, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Dean reassures him. “I am so, so sure.”

It isn’t exactly a declaration of love but it’s as close as Dean’s emotionally repressed ass is gonna get. Besides, Cas will soon be inside his mind and he’ll know exactly what he means.

Cas kisses him again, even more desperate and heated than before. Then he is grabbing Dean and lifting him, fingers digging into his thighs. Dean automatically wraps his legs around his waist, allowing Cas to carry him across the room, to his bed where he lays him down.

He keeps standing, staring down at Dean with darkened eyes and a deep green flush on his cheeks. He has rarely looked so alien. Or so hot.

This is gonna be an interesting night.

Pon farr, apparently, can last anywhere from three days up to a week. Cas’ lasts six.

Not that Dean is complaining.

#tlakhtwritesdestiel #destiel #deancas #spn fanfic #perlukafarinn writes #prompt fill #first time #au fic #this got so much longer than expected #and yet it feels way too short #i've always wanted a fic of amok time #where that infamously ust-filled conversation about vulcan biology #resolves itself in sex #so i decided to finally write it sort of #hope this is readable

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ravenpufff · 4 years

Text

Different ways to say “I love you” meme

(since evidently this blog will contain more writing... I figured I’d post this here to conveniently cry over them later).

Word Count: 1,073 (ish)

TW: none? it’s fluffy

Characters:

Alex x Claudia (Uni AU)

Daniel x Beth

Robert x Sam (AU)

@malcolmbrights (and also @infinitelonging cuz she likes our ships :D)

Alex x Cloud (Uni AU)

The dorm bed was narrow already without Claudia there, but Alex couldn’t kick her out now, not when she was asleep next to him. They had fallen asleep post-drunk sex, but he always slept poorly after drinking. He had woken up when a dorm mate down the hall dropped something before quickly shutting the noise into his own dorm room, but Alex couldn’t go back to sleep. He didn’t feel like getting out of bed either. His body was heavy, but his mind was wide awake.

Alex noticed Claudia flinch in her sleep, and she sort of whimpered the way he’d never seen her do before. He could see her face in the faint street lights outside coming in through the cracks of the blinds on his windows. Her breathing was getting shallow... fearful. Her eyes fluttered open into Alex’s dark room, and they settled onto Alex’s face. She looked vulnerable and she seemed to want to get up and leave, but she was still shaken and catching her breath.

The man reached out slowly, gauging Claudia’s reaction, especially since he knew they were both weird about being touched. She didn’t move away, but she still watched him as she calmed her breathing.

“Shh, it’s just a nightmare,” he comforted her as he cupped her cheek.

He felt her body slowly relax and her breathing even out.

Alex shifted his body to bring Claudia closer. He hugged her tightly, the way she sometimes did when he had a panic attack. He also noticed that he didn’t mind cuddling in that moment, although he usually hated that kind of thing, especially with Claudia. The tenderness was strange coming from him, but she seemed to accept it anyway.

Beth x Dan (Regular verse)

Beth looked a little worse for wear, but Daniel still couldn’t help but think she looked beautiful. She looked like she had been crying, but he waited for her to say what was on her mind.

They sat on the roof of his apartment with a 6-pack and a haphazardly laid out blanket. Dan had even fit a makeshift lock over the door to make sure nobody tried to come out there for a smoke or something.

He opened one of the beers and handed Beth one before opening another for himself. He drank deeply and sighed.

“I’m sick of this place,” Beth began.

“This city?” He turned to look at her before taking another sip of his drink.

“Work is bullshit. People are shit all around. Sometimes I wonder why I stick around.”

There was a beat between what Beth said and what Daniel was thinking, and it was coming out of his mouth before he fully realized it.

“I kinda hope you’d want to stick around… because it would suck if you left. I can’t lose you again.”

Beth looked completely taken aback by what he said, and she turned her body towards him.

“Fuck,” Dan muttered under his breath, “Why did I say that?”

He saw his best friend grin then, even though it was still a bit sad.

“Because you’d be lost without me, that’s why.”

He laughed, relieved by her joke. He drank deeply before burping loudly and replying , “You’re completely right about that.”

Sam x Robbie (AU where she gets pregnant before she graduates)

Robert lounged around in his sweatpants on his day off. He missed Sam, but she seemed busy that day. She hadn’t replied to him all day, and when she did, it was brief. Almost cold. He frowned down at his phone, although the screen had timed out a long time ago. He was sort of willing the damn thing to start ringing.

He was interrupted by a timid knock at the door instead. He never had visitors, and the only visitor he’d had around lately was Sam. She also had a key, so it didn’t make sense for her to knock.

Rob rushed to the door and opened it without any hesitation. He was surprised to see Sam there. She looked worried sick about something, and he could see it. She wasn’t very hard to read by now.

“Hey, babe. Are you okay?”

He hugged her, but he could feel Sam grow a little stiff in his arms. She looked hesitant to come inside too, and now he was worried.

Before the door was fully closed behind her, she rambled, “I know this is going to sound crazy, and I hate that this happened -- nonono, I’m happy it happened, but I just didn’t imagine it happening right now--”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Rob sounded hopelessly sad.

“What?” Sam looked at him wide eyed, clearly dumbfounded by his question. “No, of course not-- but if you want to after I tell you--”

“Did you cheat on me?”

“No… God no. Nononono-- that’s not it at all.”

“Then, please just tell me. I’ve missed you all day, and you’re being really weird with me.”

“I missed you too,” Sam sighed, “It’s just-- fuck it, Robbie I’m pregnant… like with your kid.”

Rob lost the ability to speak for a few seconds, and he looked at her face and then at her not yet swollen belly. “Oh my fucking god… are you pranking me right now? Is this real? I just feel like everything I’m saying right now is all wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you having a meltdown?” Sam teased, although she was anxious to hear his response.

“A little, but I’m in no way going to break up with you because you’re pregnant. We did this together. I’m here for you. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Sam burst into tears then, hugging him tightly like she always did.

“Did you think I was some douchebag and gonna leave you pregnant for another hot girl or something?” He laughed, finding humor again, especially in the way they both acted. He kissed her on top of her head and then on her cheek.

She nodded, now crying and laughing at Robbie’s stupid joke.

“Sammy, baby. I’ll ask you properly when I’m tenured, but I think we should get married too.”

She was now sobbing in his arms, his shirt getting drenched with her tears. He felt her nod against his body, and he smiled at her response.

“I love you, and we’re going to be okay.”

“I love--” she sniffled, “I love you too.”

#gems writing tag

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wolfiefics · 4 years

Text

To all the fans of Steve Rogers who persist that Steve was in the right during Civil War, consider this:

Your argument that after the events of Winter Soldier he lost faith in the US government, why did he stay? Why did he not renounce his US citizenship and try elsewhere? He likely had enough ties with another country, either of familial origin or one he helped liberate during WWII, to do so. Why did he stay? Why did he continue being an Avenger? Living by US society rules put in place and maintained by the government he no longer believed in? If you can answer that in a logical way that isn't knee-jerk high-mindedness, I'll concede it.

If he was right to go against the Accords because "they stifled his freedom" then you are advocating the same mindset of the people taking guns into government buildings in an attempt to terrorize officials into not wearing protective gear designed to save the lives of themselves, their family and their fellow citizens AS IS IN THE US CONSTITUTION CHARTER. Or you are the one calling the police on someone for doing something you don't like, lying about it to make it wrong when that person was doing nothing wrong to begin with? You just didn't like them for some reason, they have to go away. FREEDOM is not a gift. It's not a thing that everyone has. EVER. Not even in the US at the time of the American Revolution. Freedom is a CONCEPT, an ideal to reach for. A utopian dream. The very nature of human civilization NEGATES freedom by its very existence. You want "freedom"? I can rob, rape, murder, enslave, and destroy everything I want to because I'm FREE to do so! No one can tell me what to do! You're the victim? Not my problem! Maybe you should be bigger, meaner, carry a bigger weapon or have more people in your side. FREEDOM is ANARCHY, lawlessness, and disrespecting others wants and needs for whatever you want to have withoutrestrictionsof moral conscience instilled by society (i.e. laws and government).

Society, civilization, has rules for a reason. So that shit DOESN'T happen. You don't follow the rules? You're a criminal. Since the Law Codes of Hammurabi its been this way (before that, those are just the first known written laws). Rules can be amended, recodified, or completely rewritten as your society and culture expands intellectually, technologically or in accordance of getting along with another culture different from yours. They aren't concrete (I was going to say "written in stone but some actually were...aforementioned Hammurabi law codes for example).

But to argue that Steve Rogers was right to IGNORE the rules and laws and do whatever he wanted because he was "betrayed" by the government is ignorant, elitist bullshit. He had NO RIGHT to do that. Attempt to dissuade, argue down or compromise, yes, definitely. But give it the middle finger and stomp off in a snit and do whatever HE thinks is right? He's no longer a law-abiding citizen who has EARNED the rights of his society. He has turned his back on them. I'm not saying the Accords were right (though they had a strong argument for it) but everyone tried to tell him "do this now, we'll wiggle it around til it's more acceptable. If not, they are going to ram it down our throats or throw us in a dark dank corner and forget we're there". But noooo! Steve was too good for that! The petty concerns of almost the entire world is not his problem! HE knows better than ANYONE what's right and what's wrong! Fuck them! He was not interested in compromise, trying to work a deal, nothing. He saw it as oppression and done! And that's how all of you who say he's in the right feel too. 112 out of 128 countries have no RIGHT to feel threatened! What's their problem anyway? It’s not like the Avengers destroyed an entire country! Oh wait.. well it's just some backwater Eastern bloc country, no big loss. And part of South Africa. And an entire floor of visiting humanitarian and diplomat workers. No big deal. The UN should just suck it up. Steve knows what he's doing.

All governments have laws a person doesn't like. Nature of the beast. You might get away with bending it on occasion, depending what it is. But if your actions breaking it means ending the lives of others or compromising/destroying their property or culture because "I'm right, you're wrong"? Bigotry. Elitism. Holier than thou. Entire civilizations have vanished for that and we know little to nothing about them because that attitude meant no one cared to note it. Those civilizations could have cures for, I don't know, CANCER!!? (Medicine Man with Sean Connery is awesome. You should watch it).

The first rule EVERY writer learns when writing about sentient beings is there are good things and there are FLAWS. There is no such thing as perfect. If you have a perfect person who can do no wrong, makes no mistakes, just rolls through life getting everything they want without effort...why would you want that? It's boring. It's unrealistic. Why is this persistent idea that everything Steve does is right and just and morally incorruptible? Sounds like some asshole that needs a bullet in the brain before he decides to kill ME for getting in his way. Most of you don't write him in your own fics that way. Why on EARTH do you think he's perfect in the movie verse? Is he not fictional? Is he not a character in a story? Is he somehow exempt in the movies of all writing conventions?

Civil War is easily the worst of the MCU movies. The potholes are so large you can hyper drive the Deathstar through them. Too many to go into here. That's a whole nother rant. But this movie is the basis of this fan idea that Steve can do no wrong and anyone who opposed or argued with him are immoral, arrogant and oppressive...or government doormats. REALLY?! It's obvious Steve trusts NO ONE. Not Sam, whose life he continually puts in danger with very little remorse. Nat, who has been at his side since two weeks after he woke in the 21st century, fought aliens, was on an elite task force with (two in fact), etc ad nauseum but since she DARED to disagree with him, she's obviously not to be trusted. And he was hyper focused on two things:Bucky and Peggy. Peggy, he moped and brooded over, punishing himself for a trick of Fate. FOR YEARS. And Bucky, who was such an obvious distraction that Hydra knew it was a HUGE weak spot and CONTINUALLY used it against him at the expense of other people's lives that Steve apparently didn't give two shits about or even attempted to modify that weakness. How many legitimate, under cover S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were exposed world-wide when Nat laid bare every record of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Not even a flicker of remorse from Steve. Made this big patriotic speech to the Triskellian but not one single mention at all in the planning of those people. None. Cannon fodder. So sad, too bad, ah well! Gotta save Bucky!! Same in Civil War. Steve headed that op in Africa. He ordered and helped gather the Intel on Crossbones and his gang. He made the plan, placed an unstable high-powered individual ALONE in the field with Nat telling her what to do over an ear piece (and Wanda blew her off), as soon as Crossbones blew Steve's strategy, he went gung-ho through a major, heavily populated marketplace, confronted the enemy, IMMEDIATELY got compromised by the word "Bucky" and allowed Crossbones to set off a suicide vest. If Wanda hadn't been there, Steve and that entire block would have been decimated. Wanda did her best, but she was not up to snuff and lives were lost anyway. Did Steve show remorse? No. He brooded that Rumlow said "Bucky and I was 16 again". He told Wanda essentially that it's regrettable but not to worry about it. Those dead people due to his hard-on to get Rumlow? All those lives of diplomats and humanitarian workers gone? No big whoop. Sad but you know, Steve's perfect so they just had to die. He willingly and uncaringly put people in harm's way that got them killed that with a cool head and better planning (or compromise with others ideas) could have been avoided. That's the making of a sociopath. A monster. NOT someone who should be in charge of an elite team that defeated an ALIEN INVASION HEADED BY A GOD.

Think about this. I loved the Winter Soldier. I think it's in my top 5 MCU movies. Other than the exposure of who knows how many legitimate S.HI.E.L.D agents who may have been in the middle of stopping child slavery rings or something, it's an excellent film. Civil War? Garbage. Utter garbage. Trash. They had a good plot, the Hydra super soldiers, that could have been action packed, exposed Bucky's whereabouts, had a big fight scene, had Tony learning Steve had been omitting how his parents died and still had Zemo taken down and the Avengers break up. Set it up even. Those soldiers were shot off screen as this confusing red herring. Why even mention them if you're just going to shoot them off-screen like an afterthought? Hmm. I should write that. I may have too, if someone hasn't done it already. If so, DM me the link?

But get away from this "Steve Rogers can't be wrong cuz he's Captain America" schtick. Bad enough Civil War turned him into a callous, selfish tool. Don't make the situation worse for him.

I love my Stucky, don't get me wrong. I'll die on this ship. But Civil War is NOT the Steve Rogers characterization you need to be advocating as the ideal. In that movie, he's an asshole and if Peggy or 1930s Bucky knew what he'd done, they'd have BOTH punched him. Maybe more than once. And withheld his dessert at dinner.

I'm just saying.

#steve rogers is not perfect #civil war was hideous #unpopular rant I'm sure #hate at me I'll probably not notice #i rarely look at my messages

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sinnhelmingrmoved · 4 years

Text

🔥 the mcu. fun fact. sometimes u'll just say some actual stuff about norse mythology to me and i'll just have a flashback to me learning about thor and loki and odin from the marvel movies and go 'well i guess that was a lie mr. fiege!!!' lmfao

i think from hindsight everyone’s going to realize the early mcu was not as groundbreaking as it seemed at the time and people still build it up to be. i enjoy some of the movies, i truly do for as much as i vocally hate certain films or aspects of storytelling, but they’re really just popcorn movies. that’s ok, calm down scorsese, not everything has to be logan or into the spider-verse. but the more i look back the more i kind of go ‘is that it?’

the female rep is so hit and miss -- compare iron man’s reliance on pepper and nat as the sole consistent female presence. even nat as the badass empowered lady with a shady past and wanda as the oooh spooky badass rebellious whitewashed dark chick are basically a series of tropes that connect several narratives, nat depending on the writer and wanda pretty much consistently. bounce them off of black panther’s phenomenal largely female cast or any lady in captain marvel, and the flaws are particularly egregious. peggy got more room to shine, but then she had three seasons of a show to do so. sif disappears from the narrative in totality and it changes basically nothing, which says a lot about how women are approached even late into these phases.

(and that’s not getting into mcu sure had some CHOICE picks for their leading ladies. bullshit-touting scam artist, two women who think whitewashing is cool, and whatever the fuck atwell was doing being a dick to vancamp.)

that and the origin story flicks were all very paint by numbers. here is our chiseled leading man, he is thrust into a strange new world where he is either depowered or powered up, he makes it through harrowing circumstances, sacrifices someone to grow as a hero, and is often given a token black friend in an otherwise quite white cast of heroes. if he does not have one at the start, he will gain one along the way.

(which is not to say rhodey, heimdall, and sam are not awesome characters in their own roles, but the fact the primary man of color in each film is always introduced as the white lead’s number two is... something. something marvel still kind of has a problem with but i am hoping can be overcome, though i am not holding my breath.)

they’re harmless but ultimately kind of shoddily built popcorn flicks made for the majority, with the odd gem scattered among the ‘meh.’ and that’s ok. i am just so looking forward to the day we can all kind of move on from fellating the past of the mcu and hopefully go somewhere new with the latest crop of our leads and their stories.

also if we don’t get some actual love stories beyond two people of opposing genders in love and dealing with drama i am going to god damn feralize and meet feige outside a wendy’s with a bat. i get our chinese and conservative overlords reign supreme, but fuck you, make gay characters anyway, pussy. y’all are gonna let a robot smash but only if he’s smashing a lady with a vagina.

#negative //#negativity //#mcu critical //#marvel critical //#saltmeme;#humanmoxie

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fcundwings-archive2 · 4 years

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Sons of Anarchy - Erica/Juice - Juice Ortiz

fandom/ship/character + accepting + @queencfwolves

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: opie winston

Least Favorite character: tara knowles

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): opie/lyla, chibs/juice, tig/venus, tig/kozik, tig/gemma

Character I find most attractive: jax teller

Character I would marry: juice ortiz

Character I would be best friends with: lyla winston

a random thought: lyla deserved better, everybody can Fight me on this

An unpopular opinion: jax should’ve stayed with wendy 🤷‍♀️

My Canon OTP: opie/lyla

My Non-canon OTP: chibs/juice

Most Badass Character: jax teller, unfortunately

Most Epic Villain: galen o’shay

Pairing I am not a fan of: i ship basically every canon thing? but the ship i just...really don’t care about is jax/tara like ya they’re cute but i’m just...indifferent [unless it’s kasee and sam’s jax/tara, then it’s the Cutest thing and i love it]

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): tara. she was so good in s1 and okay in the others but in s5 and s6, it just really went to shit and i know it’s to fulfill the hamlet bullshit but still....come on

Favourite Friendship: tig/kozik

Character I most identify with: probably juice? idk, i don’t really see myself in any of them 😂

Character I wish I could be: ha...none

002 | Send me a ship and I will tell you:

When I started shipping them: whenever u were like ‘what if they were friends in queens’ i was done

My thoughts: look i’m just really mad this isn’t canon because erica is so goddamn important to juice and it’s genuinely extremely DIFFICULT writing verses for juice where erica doesn’t exist

What makes me happy about them: they just love each other so fucking much ??? despite everything they’ve been through ??? and honestly that’s the kind of love we all need in our life

What makes me sad about them: the whole thing with nicky and erica’s bf like....u idiots the love of ur life is RIGHT THERE and ur both fucking it up

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: i....don’t think there’s any fanfics for them 😂 but i would absolutely write some if i was better at writing fics

Things I look for in fanfic: n/a

My wishlist: i think we’ve covered pretty much all of it already tbh

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: nobody ???????

My happily ever after for them: after juice is released from prison, they get married and tig walks erica down the aisle and chibs is juice’s best man and lyla or tessa is erica’s maid of honor and then they go on a lil honeymoon and then they have the twins and adopt apple and juice is accepted back into the club and the club gets out of guns so juice doesn’t get arrested anymore and they just Live their best lives as one huge family with the rest of samcro

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you:

How I feel about this character: he’s a goddamn angel that deserved better

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: fuck. uh, erica, chibs, tig, happy, wendy, anna hart (jundlcndwastes), romana harris (romxna), bella ortega (belissimae), shay strickland (shxyme), ravenna astrape (diiavola), nicky to an extent, trinity ashby, i could probably put aside my feelings on chibs/juice to plot out a ship with kerrianne, i def lowkey ship him with tara don’t @ me

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: if we’re just talking about CANON and not personal ships, then hands down chibs.

My unpopular opinion about this character: he....kinda did deserve to die. as much as i love him and as much as i wanted him to have a happy ending, he was a rat, he did kill miles in cold blood, he did cover for the murder of their president’s old lady. there was no saving him. he did it all to himself and rats have to die, unfortunately. but i do think he did want to die at that point, you can just See it in his eyes as tully is stabbing him. he’s not shocked, he’s not hurt, he’s not begging for mercy or forgiveness or trying to back out of it; he’s accepted it. it’s exactly what he’d been wanting since season 4.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: i wish him and chibs got together i wish he’d gotten the chance to redeem himself. a chance to explain why he did what he did, that it didn’t matter anyways because the rico case was dropped, because then maybe he never would’ve had to cover for gemma

Favorite friendship for this character: canonically speaking, chibs without a doubt.

My crossover ship: juice/erica reyes, clearly

#❛ you have mail ! —— [ ooc / inbox. ]#❛ i wish i was part of the cool kids ! —— [ ooc / posts. ]

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loudestsounds · 4 years

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Top 50 songs of 2020

50- Virile by Moses Sumney

An intense song if there ever was one. There is so much going that it almost works against it, however the production on this thing is so high that is sticks a landing that would impress even those who weren’t yet on board the Moses Sumney train. Oh, and his vocal range is bananas.

49- Whole Life by Perfume Genius

From the first breath of the song to the stunning finish. It’s just gorgeous. While the track is propelled by the unbelievable vocal performance, it is the incredible strings that lay in the foreground, pulsing and pulling with each new verse.

48- Delete Forever by Grimes

This is an all-time Grimes track that speaks to how she has evolved as an artist. There were many opportunities to make this track weirder, or industrial sounding, or whatever spooky ghoul aesthetic Grimes liked that day. But instead? We get a song with verses and choruses and an acoustic guitar and even her version of a Kid Cudi hum! Sign me up—this track rules.

47- Good Grief by TORRES

A real standout from a record that marked a modest comeback from Torres. This song specifically harkens back to the Sprinter era—and that is a welcome thing indeed. A fun rocker that hits you with some serious sad shit. Good grief baby, there’s no such thing.

46- No Time to Die by Billie Eilish

This is a goddamn great Bond song. Billie is good, people.

45- New Low by Sarah Harmer

A fantastic, straight forward, no bullshit, indie track. There’s a beauty in the simplicity of this song that takes you back to that mid 2000s era where indie-rock felt that certain way.

44- Stupid Love by Lady Gaga

The worst thing about 2020 is that we don’t get to dance at a dive bar to Stupid Love (and all of its inevitable remixes). Why God, why! That friggin tube amp bass effect is hilarious but really, really fun.Gaga is having fun and you should try it sometime dummy.

43- Pressure by Kamaiyah

Hook this sassy shit up! You kidding me? Play this at my funeral. This shit baaaaad.

42- I Can Tell There Was an Accident Here by Saosin

Who saw this emo ripper coming? Totally worth it, man. This thing totally grinds your chin into chalk dust. Anthony Green hasn’t sounded this great in a while either. I totally vote that we 100% rock on my dudes.

41- Mr. Lonely by Angel Olsen, Emile Mosseri

I don’t usually rank covers! And I also don’t usually rank songs made for films! But Angel Olsen was the perfect fit for this track, covered for the Miranda July film Kajillionaire. I don’t have much to say about the song other than it is yet another brilliant pairing of Angel’s voice with fantastic, yet subtle, string sections. There is something simultaneously sad and comical about the track. You can’t imagine feeling this lonely and also articulating this level of loneliness without having a laugh at yourself.

40- Fell Into the Ocean by Dan Deacon

This DD record was super underrated! It did lack a little focus, but it had many standout tracks, with Ocean being one of them. It has such a peaceful groove that lulls you at first and then disrupts your day with a dance-y, playful chorus. I will forever remember that first you must relax/before transcend.

Aboulia by Matt Elliott

By far the most depressing song of 2020 from the most depressing man of all time. This is some seriously sad shit. I want to listen to this during a rainy day on a veranda in Spain while the bulls….ride….in?

38.It Was Me by Deradoorian

On an album of moody and wacky licks—It Was Me is perhaps the most straightforward, Can-inspired track. There’s a potency to the delivery of Deradoorian’s lines, and the instrumentals compliment the lyrical sentiment. This song has that feeling of discovering all the magician’s tricks, and then threating that same magician with exposing their secrets. I don’t even know what I mean, but if you listen to the song you’ll get it okay.

37- Straws In The Wind by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

I enjoyed this track greatly as a single—but within the context of the record it fits even better. While it runs a little long and some might argue it overstays its welcome—the Straws has King Gizzard sounding more human than they ever have—as if finally, underneath all the hyper-future allegories of nefarious dungeon galaxy droids maybe they have something they actually want to say.

36- Big Wheel by Samia

A quiet yet comfortably confident indie track that sets an undeniable groove for the entire album. It’s just one of those songs that after one listen has you adding it to twelve playlists.

35- Little Patches by Eric Osbourne

A really pretty, almost spooky, song about making the most of the little, incomplete histories we all share. Very well executed, and fitting as an album closer.

34- This Link Is Dead by Deftones

On an album of standout tracks, this was my favorite mix of head splitting riffs. The production on this track specifically feels crisp in a way Deftones never has felt. There’s a clarity to each instrument that somehow doesn’t give you a headache.

33- Weird Fishes by Lianne La Havas

I tend to have a very strict no-Radiohead Cover rule. Do not cover Radiohead kids. Unless you are Lianne La Havas. This cover rules and, dare I say, takes the song to a place the original doesn’t quite touch (they’re their own thing ok!!!).

32- Love Again by Dua Lipa

A few tracks to pick from on this breakout record from DL. It has to be the perfectly executed mini-chorus of I can’t believe/I can’t believe/I finally found someone that has an undeniable quality.

31- People, I’ve Been Sad by Christine & The Queens

A totally weird song I have never heard before. This song freaked me out when I first heard it—it is the weirdest mix of glitch-pop that I’ve heard in a while because it is equal parts weird as hell and easy-listening? I have no idea if introducing this song to people actually works or if they will think I’m crazy. Anyway, great song my dudes.

30- My Own Soul’s Warning by The Killers

When The Killers are good it is good for planet earth. Ladies and Gents, The Killers are good. Sure—the sound is a return to Hot Fuss/Sam’s Town era Killers, but I do recall that era totally owning. It felt good to know The Killers let us put on our tightest stage pants during this shitshow of a year.

29- Semantics by NNAMDI

I was not familiar with NNAMDI at all before listening to this track—and to be fair, not much on this record sounds quite like this standout (although it is also quite good!). The song is STOP EVERYTHING good. It almost makes no sense that it exists at all—it’s a stunning genre bending highlight that is the type of singular effort that forces you to have an artist on your radar forever. Jesus, that messy yet symphonic explosion at the end.

28- The Joys of Love by Steve Arrington

Some gorgeous soul/funk for your morning. Arrington is particularly potent in the morning, when maybe your heart and mind are more open to something actually working out alright.

27- Love is Bravery by Old Man Gloom

Maybe we just needed a heavy, hope-filled anthem in 2020. OMG came out with the song we needed back at the early stages of this shit show pandemic. These were choruses that we needed to hold on to when the world felt dark as hell. We are the way out of this, thanks for remind us Old Man Gloom.

26- God is Perfect by Freddie Gibbs, The Alchemist

Undeniable hip hop masterpiece right here. This track is no bullshit, pop the champagne stuff. Bump it in the car. Bump it in the mall. Bump it with the homies. Do your thing cause this is where it’s at. Love that piano in the backdrop of the track as well as the spooky down tones that accompany it.

25- To Perth, before the border closes by Julia Jacklin

You might say this is pandemic pandering, but so what? There’s a special quality to JJ, where she teaches us not only that it is okay to be sad, but specifically how to be sad. The refrain of Everything Changes has you simultaneously broken apart and yet hopeful.

24- 4 American Dollars by U.S. Girls

This was one of the first great tracks of 2020. A pre-pandemic banger of infectious, funk infused disco-rock. U.S. Girls have such a knack for making something made up of many, tiny little pieces--- work so brilliantly. I will have the chorus of “you can do a lot with four american dollars” in my head for nine hundred years.

23- Not The Same Anymore by The Strokes

It was a toss-up between NTSA and album closer Ode to the Mets, but there is something about the magic that happens when The Strokes stick to (or return to) a formula that they have mastered. If anyone else wrote NTSA it would seem tame, palatable and routine—but The Strokes just have this way. A throwback to Strokes songs of old, Not The Same Anymore crushes you with the same feelings of sadness, guilt and regret that Casablancas’ dusty croon is perfect at delivering--- while the gang as a whole plays the song they were almost meant to play. Some things never change, here The Strokes take a moment to look back at everything that has, and collectively nod.

22- Under the Table by Fiona Apple

I won’t pretend to understand everything that FA feels when she sings about seething in rage at men over a dinner table. But damn does it make you want to wake the hell up from your own bullshit. Whether you’re identifying as the jackass she hates or as the protagonist wanting to drink a jug of “I’m not taking any shit” juice—this song hits the spot.

21- Back At The Beginning by Caroline Rose

There were a few tracks to choose form off of Rose’s brilliant Superstar, however BATB is perhaps the best executed. Rose pulls out all the stops vocally, ranging from her deep and comic rasp to her higher and more piercing harmonies. BATB is the most Caroline Rose song that Caroline Rose has—and that means something for an artist this criminally underrated.

20- Riddle by Mammal Hands

A gorgeous and soothing track that effortlessly builds without you even realizing it, until finally it releases into a stunning chorus—arguably my favorite section of music all year.

19- Lilac by Porridge Radio

I’m a sucker for songs that build and build until they cannot bare the weight they’ve put on their back. Usually massive buildups fail when they cannot stick the landing, but Lilac manages to make the journey the reward by beating you over the head with its refrain.

18- Remember Where You Are by Jessie Ware

There are many standouts on an album that is as equally danceable as it is thoughtful, but Remember Where You Are reduces every thought, feeling and danceable groove in the record into one punishing closer of a track.

17- Fallin’ Apart by Young Franco, Denzel Curry, Pell

Two minutes of totally infectious dancehall music. This thing just slaps. Brilliantly, it can be played on repeat to absolutely no one’s disappointment. Dance away, kids.

16- To Death’s Heart (In Three Parts) by Bright Eyes

I love a song that really sticks its landing. Bright Eyes seem to care more about that now than ever. Even if the ideas are still scattered lyrically, the compositions are stronger and tighter than they ever have been. Also the rare Bright Eyes solo-ing segments are very welcome! Some really beautiful lines from Conor on this one as well, making some things universal but also keeping a few for himself. Who would expect something different?

15- Lay_Up.m4a by Denzel Curry & Kenny Beats

Hell ya. This was a huge standout on an already crazy, erratic and intiable EP from Curry and Beats. I could listen to them collaborate together for a century. Some seriously devilishly cool lines from Curry on this track about Lando Calrisian, dildo’s and fish tits. It’s just two masters at the absolute top of their game. Give us the full LP baby, we need it.

14- Crash by Nilufer Yanya

Nilufer Yanya can not write songs fast enough. I will continue to eat up whatever she writes. This song is essentially variation on the same riff for five minutes but when the shit is good the shit is good. Excellent production choices and attention to detail prove that Yanya is poised to head into increasingly interesting directions.

13- Over Yet by Hayley Williams

While the transitions in the track initially come across as clumsy, it’s the jarring risks that Williams takes that pay off. An excellent pop journey of a song. Crisp production and fantastic melody make repeat listens.

12- Working It Over by Cults

An expertly crafted indie-pop track reminiscent of Devotion era Beach House. Just a well-constructed, excellently produced synth track. The little sonic details require great headphones, but the rewards are endless.

11- State Line by Jeff Rosenstock

I love many songs off of Rosentock’s NO DREAM- but State Line was the first track I fell in love with. There is something so straightforward about the track in a way that spins a memory of pop-punk songs from a past you may/may not have ever lived. I miss this punk romantic shit so bad.

10- Ooh, la la by Run the Jewels

The boys hit it out of the park again. Equal parts banger, dance-hall, and braggadocious manifesto—Killer Mike and El-P deliver with the most infectious hip hop single of 2020.

9- Late Bloomer by Mammal Hands

I don’t know how to comment on jazz, but if you listen to this song, and make your way through the insane crescendo, and somehow feel nothing you totally suck. This is such a friggin’ blast to listen to. God! Damn! It!

8- St. Cloud by Waxahatchee

There is something so beautiful about endings—but something so messy about legacies. How do we close the book on a person we have lost? How do we survive long after we have gone? Crutchfield reminds us that we live through memory—and that the darkness of our times is merely a candle to our flame.

7- The Ascension by Sufjan Stevens In what was personally a confounding and somewhat impersonal record from Sufjan—The Ascension has him return to the sound that knows him best. Intimate, building, and intense—the title track asks the very same question we’ve all wanted to know: What now?

6- I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers

To close her record, Bridgers decided to deliver an epic. With horns reminiscent of Bright Eyes’ Road to Joy—I Know The End delivers the most gut wrenching promise of apocalypse—all while Bridgers smirks, having known it was coming all along.

5- Anything by Adrianne Lenker

Just unbelievably gorgeous. Something unassuming and yet serene. What a maze of imagery and history. I love that line about staring down the barrel of the hot sun. Lenker just knows what works, proving once again she is an unstoppable force in folk.

4- Up From A Dream by HAIM

HAIM delivers the best song of their career with this emotional rocker. The gasp for air at the start of the track is absolutely necessary as we come along for the ride. The brief solo absolutely rips and the harmonies behind Danielle’s chorus pull it all together.

3- Anthems by Charli XCX

My number one power jam of 2020. This song is relentless fun and pumped with energy. Seems like a simple enough backbeat and chorus, and yet you are so happy it keeps coming back. There was nothing more exciting to listen to during quarantine—and it will remain the ultimate pandemic anthem. When it’s over, we might be even closer.

2- Anaphylaxis by PUP

Find me a better song about a panic attack. I dare you. Anaphylaxis beats the shit out of you while it takes you to that very special place we all love to hate. PUP has this unbelievable knack for making punk anthems you accidentally sing along to in the grocery store until you realized you just screamed “feels like I was kicked in the testicles” while picking out avocados.

1- I Want You to Love Me by Fiona Apple

There isn’t a composition that compares in 2020. Combined with her vocal performance this thing steals the year. An absolute show-stopper of a song. Opening an album like this should be illegal. Fiona Apple reflects on her history and what the world has given us thus far, and demands more. We all should.

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readerwinterbarnes · 7 years

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Breathe

Dean Winchester x OFC (Bianca)

Summary: After a hunt went bad, it leaves the trio a bit shaken in more ways than one. Thankfully Dean knows just what to do when that happens.

Word Count: 2,725

Warnings: Blood, flashback, slight panic attack, feels, SPN Family, swapping POV’s

A/N: Thank you thebeastinsideusall & @oh-goodness-loki for helping me with this one, as I’m not that well versed in SPN writing, but enjoy writing it. I’m trying to get things updated and posted before school starts, so thank you for being patient with me! :)

No one hardly said a word as I drove back to the bunker with Zeppelin softly playing in the background. Sam was letting Bobby know how the hunt went and how they were going to take the next few cases off. Bianca hasn’t said a word since the hunt went down.

I couldn’t blame her, it was a case no hunter ever wanted to come across. Children going missing to only find out that it was a cult of witches who were taking the kids for their black magic ritual bullshit crap they were doing. Did we manage to take them out? Yes, but in the end, it didn’t seem like it was worth it. Ten kids were taken and only one made it out, only for him to die two hours later in the ER. Fuck, the kid was only eight. I should’ve told Bianca to sit this one out, but she’s stubborn for her own good and came along anyway. But I wish she never came with.

I checked on her through the mirror to find her the same way when we left. She was staring off out the window, not focusing on anything in particular. She wasn’t even here, her mind was elsewhere and it scared me. Bianca was affected the most on this fucked up case. Why? I wasn’t so sure.

It didn’t take us much longer until the engine shut off when I parked inside the bunker, Bianca grabbed her bag with a quick, ‘Taking a shower and going the fuck asleep, later losers.’ over her shoulder. Sam and I shared a worried glance.

“Bianca going to be okay?” Sam asked me looking at the door.

“I honestly have no idea. She hasn’t been the same since it went down, Sam.” We grabbed our bags and made our way inside, silently hoping to forget about this whole thing.

I ran towards the building as fast as my legs could take me. His screams begging me to find him. It was all my fault, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I was only getting food, I told him to hide. Why did I leave him?

I reach the building and rushed towards where his hiding place was, but I was too late. I came to a skidding halt as I saw his tiny frame unmoving on the hardwood floor with a figure standing above him. From the descriptions my father told me, I could tell instantly that it was a witch. So I did the only thing I could think of, I took the tire iron I carried with me and swung it at them. It wouldn’t have really made a difference and probably couldn’t do jack shit, but at the moment I didn’t care. But they just laughed at me and disappeared. I dropped down next to him and cradled his head to my chest, holding his battered up teddy bear between us.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy, I’m so sorry I failed you.”

I jerked awake and found myself struggling to breathe. My door opens, the hallway light streaming into the darkness of my room.

“Bianca? You alright?” Dean slipped passed the door and quickly made his way towards me. He brushed the tears away and held my head in his hands, speaking calmly to me.

“Bianca, you gotta breathe, okay? You need to breathe with me, you’re hyperventilating. Just follow me, okay?” I focused the green flecks in Dean’s eyes, grasping his wrists tightly as I listened to him talk to me. His voice pushed aside the gruesome memories, bringing me back to the present.

“You’re going to be fine B, come here.” Dean pulled me to him, maneuvering us so he was leaning against the headboard with me resting against him. He ran his callused fingers through my hair, as I breathed in deeply. Releasing his shirt from my clenched fist.

“You want to talk about it?” He asked, kissing my temple gently.

“I-I, yeah, yeah, I need to.” With a sigh, I sit up and lean against the headboard, our shoulders touching. I took his hand in mine and studied it for a bit so I could get my thoughts together.

“Dean, have you ever gone through an event in your life where it left you wishing you could’ve done something to prevent it from happening?” He was quiet for a few minutes.

“Yeah, there’s a lot I wish I could go back and fix, but you learn to deal with it.” I looked up at him, before memories of Tommy’s death and the previous hunt came flooding back. I looked back at our linked hands.

“This about the hunt right?” He took my silence as a yes.

“I should’ve done something, Dean. I should’ve been able to save them, instead, I failed! I let all those families down, Dean-”

“Bianca, it wasn’t your fault. If it’s someone’s fault, it’s the bitches who started this in the first place.” By now we were both standing on opposite sides of the bed, chests rising rapidly. Fists clenched at our sides.

“But I couldn’t save them.”

“Well neither could Sam or I, so we have to learn to deal with it!”

“But I couldn’t save my own brother!” Dean’s expression immediately changed from angry, to hurt, and confusion.

“I couldn’t even save my own brother. Tommy shouldn’t have died. He was only five, Dean, and it was my job to protect him and look how that turned out.” Dean looked at me with sympathy and I couldn’t stand it. I failed Tommy, I failed those kids, it was my fault they didn’t make it. How can Dean ever understand what it feels like? Simple, he can’t.

“Bianca, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Just leave me alone, Dean, please.” I open the door to see Sam standing there with a sad expression, but I pushed passed him and ran down the hallway, unsure where my legs were taking me. Arms clasped around my waist as I let the tears fall.

I watched as Bianca pushed passed Sam and ran down the hallway, the sound of a slamming door echoing throughout the hallway. She looked lost, broken, and hateful. Hatred clearly aimed at herself. I understood the case was rough on her, who wouldn’t be shaken by this? But I never knew it was this bad.

Sam turns back to me from where she previously ran down the hallway. “What happened Dean? B going to be okay?”

“I honestly have no idea, Sam. The case hit her harder than I thought. Let’s…let’s just give her some space. I’ll check on her tomorrow.” We stood there for a while longer, before we both headed back to bed. Planning on how to approach her the next day.

Bianca never showed up for breakfast this morning and both Sam and I were both finishing lunch and there was still no sign of her. I knocked on her door several times, but I never received a response other than silence. With a sigh, I decided to make her some food anyway.

I put together a simple sandwich, apple slices, and grabbed a water out of the fridge. “I’m gonna try again Sam, see what happens.”

He nods in agreement. “You need anything from me? I was going to go do a supply run and return some books.”

“Nah man, I’m good. Call me when you’re on your way back?”

“Yeah, give a B a hug for me?” I nod and make my way towards her room, while Sam left to run errands.

Grabbing her plate and water, I made my way back down to her room just in case if she ended up back there. When her room was empty, I checked the library, armory, even the bathroom. The last place to check was the garage, and there she was. Bianca was lying in the back seat curled up with the blanket we kept in the back. I could hear Led Zeppelin playing softly through the open windows.

“Hey hotshot, mind if I join you?” Bianca slowly comes to and looks at me, as I peer through the glass.

“Dean, w’re doin’ ‘ere?” She grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she sat up.

“Well, since you slept through breakfast, thought I’d whip you up something. Can’t have you going hungry on us, now can we?” I slowly opened the door and held the food out to her. Bianca looked at it, then grabbed it.

“Get in before you let me freeze to death.” She smiled softly, holding up the blanket so I could get underneath. With her legs situated on my lap, food in hand, she sat back and ate. I wasn’t sure if she was ready to talk about Tommy yet and I wasn’t going to push her too either.

“I couldn’t save Sam,” I took a swig of my beer staring straight ahead, “sure he’s alive now, but,” I cleared my throat thinking back to the time where Azazel brought all of these special kids to a ghost town and had to fight each other to the death.

“He ah, he and a guy named Jake was left. Sam was able to kick him to the ground and everything was fine, ya know?” I chuckle softly, unaware of Bianca’s full attention on me. “Sam’s coming up to me, then all of a sudden Jake comes up behind Sam and stabs him with a fucking knife.” I finish off my beer and take a deep breath. “Bobby went after him, but that son of a bitch got away, but Sam, he...Sam died in my arms, B.”

She rests her hand on my arm, giving it a tight squeeze. I give her a tight smile in return. “Couldn’t even save my mom. ‘Course that’s a different story for another time.” I take her hand in mine and turn towards her. “So don’t you dare say it’s your fault Tommy died, because I’ve been there too many times to count, and each time kills me.” She looks away but doesn’t remove her hand.

“I’m not telling you that you have to tell me what happened. Not today, not tomorrow, or even next week, but please remember that Sam, Cas, Bobby, and I are all here for you. We’re family, we take care of each other.” I brush the lone tears that made their way down her face, kissing her temple softly, before gathering her into my arms. Minutes later, we were asleep in the protective walls of the Impala.

After having that talk with Dean, I felt better. I was still shaken up, but I’m well enough to grace the others with my presence. The boys stayed up late doing research for some fellow hunters every night for the past few days, which left them dead to the world the next day. So, I thought it would be nice to make them both breakfast.

The table was set with three place settings, juice, coffee, syrup, butter, yogurt, and fruit were all put on the table. Eggs and bacon came next, all that was left was the pancakes.

Just as the last of the pancake batter landed on the grill, groans and complaints filled the kitchen. Both Sam and Dean looked exhausted. It was funny to see Sam’s hair all over the place. They groggily sat down on the table, Sam helping himself to some orange juice, Dean getting coffee. With the last of the pancakes done, I joined them and began to help myself as well.

“Bianca, you didn’t have to do all this.” Sam looked at me with a grateful smile, Dean hummed in response as he helped himself to more food.

“Well I definitely, don’t mind it. B makes the best damn pancakes I’ve ever had.” I stifled a giggle as Dean continued to eat.

“I don’t mind Sam, besides, you and Dean have been busting your balls off. You guys deserve a break and need some decent food in you before you go back to it.” I filled a bowl with yogurt and topped it with fruit. “Not to mention, you guys have been a great help to me these past few days.”

Shortly after Dean and I talked, I told both of them about Tommy. How he died, how my parents were both hunters but tried their best to stay out of it, for our own safety. How that didn’t last long before my mother and father both died from a werewolf. How I held my father’s hand, telling me to keep Tommy safe. To be smart, leave no traces, take his notebook filled with everything I needed to know, get in the truck and drive. Drive away as fast as I could, far away as possible. So I gave them a hunter’s burial, grabbed Tommy and left. A thirteen-year-old, fighting against monsters to keep my five-year-old brother safe.

No one should’ve had to go through that. No one.

Sam's strong hand reached over and squeezed mine. “That’s what we’re here for B, you don’t have to do this alone. And Dean’s right, you do make the best damn pancakes I’ve ever had.” He gave me a smile, before getting up to put his dishes in the sink. “I’m just going to drop off what we found at Bobby’s and pick up a few things on the way back.”

Sam kissed the top of my head quickly before he left to get changed and leave. I helped Dean clear off the table and put the food away. As I started the dishes, strong arms wrapped around me, I leaned back into the strong chest contently. His lips were soft as they lingered on my skin, breathing me in.

“I’m really proud of you, Bianca.” I set the last of the plate aside, turning around to face him. Green eyes locked with mine, searching my face fondly.

“What for?” Before I could ask Dean again, his calloused hands cupped my face and kissed me. His lips were chapped, but I didn’t care, they molded and felt perfectly against mine. My hands made their way to the back of his head, gripping his hair lightly. His hands shifted to hold me against him tightly as if they never wanted to let me go. And I didn’t want them to. But eventually, we both had to come up for air. Foreheads resting against each other’s, breathing in the same air, Dean and I stood there just taking each other in.

“For trusting me enough for telling me Tommy’s story. For letting me help you even though you didn’t want it. For, for being there for me when I told you about Sam. For not pushing me about what happened to m-my mom, just…” I kissed him again, softly, taking his face into my hands. I ran my thumbs across his cheeks, my heart breaking at the far off hurt look in his misty green eyes. I no longer saw my Dean, I saw a glimpse of a man who looked lost, who was trying so hard not to let his emotions take over and break down the walls he tried so desperately to build.

“Thank you for giving me time to tell you and for always helping me.” I wiped away a stray tear that made its way out of his eye, “And I will always be here for you Dean, just as you’ve always been here for me. Because...because I love you, Dean. I always have.” Green eyes sparkled back at me, Dean was back. My Dean was back and it felt as if the world came back to life. He smiled once more before kissing me once again.

“I love you, Bianca. I love you so much I feel as if I can breathe again.” He said against my lips. I smiled back at him, looking at the green eyes I fell so in love with. I hugged him tightly, which he more than gladly returned, “I love you too.” I whispered softly into his neck.

For the first time in my life since Tommy’s death, I finally felt as if I could breathe again without fear. The road ahead of us might be rough, but with Dean at my side, it won’t be as bad.

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