#can you believe sammi invented looks

[rhapsodynew]

#new music

⚡️ ROCK N'ROLL HALL OF FAME 2024

➖ The performance of Dua Lipa and Cher and her introduction

Dua Lipa performed a song in honor of Cher, who was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2024, at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame ceremony

At the beginning of the evening, the pop star performed part of the 1988 hit "Believe", and then Cher herself joined her to sing the rest of the song

➖ Induction into the Foreigner Hall of Fame and their performance

Foreigner were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame on Saturday night. The award ceremony was attended by original vocalist Lou Graham, keyboardist Al Greenwood and bassist Rick Wills.

Mick Jones and Dennis Elliott did not attend the ceremony, and Ian McDonald and Ed Gagliardi died in 2022 and 2014, respectively. Sammy Hagar, who hosted the band, said:

I'm really sorry Jones isn't here today. Mick, we love you, miss you and congratulations

Hagar also talked about his experience listening to Foreigner music, especially songs like "Jukebox Hero" when he started out as a rock singer himself.:

When you first heard this song, you realized that you were jealous. In my opinion, this is one of the greatest rock vocal performances in history.

After Hagar's performance, a joint performance of their songs took place with the participation of Hagar, Slash, Chad Smith, Demi Lovato and Kelly Clarkson

➖Peter Frampton 's speech and his introduction

Peter Frampton was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and several music industry stars came to the event on this occasion

Roger Daltrey of The Who was tasked with officially inducting Frampton into the Hall of Fame. He began his opening speech with what many in the audience were thinking:

I was surprised that this guy wasn't inducted into the Hall of Fame 35 years ago. All I can say is it's about time.

The posthumous introduction of Jimmy Buffett

Jimmy Buffett was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2024 as a recipient of the Outstanding Musical Achievement Award. Despite being nominated since 1998, Buffett was never inducted into the Hall of Fame.

The singer-songwriter received the award posthumously on Saturday night during the opening performance of Dave Matthews, who became one of the winners in 2024. Matthews performed a solo acoustic version of Buffett's 1974 song "A Pirate Looks at Forty".

James Taylor inducted Buffett into the Hall of Fame, noting:

For many of us, Jimmy was like a hero from a Greek myth. His adventures were our adventures. We shared his great love of life. He loved being Jimmy Buffett.

He was out of this world, but at the same time he was always sane and always himself. Jimmy was a man who achieved everything on his own, and there will be no other like it.

Ozzy Osbourne 's performance and introduction

Ozzy Osbourne was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, becoming the 27th artist to be inducted more than once, and joining celebrities such as John Lennon, Stevie Nicks and Neil Young.

Osbourne was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame by actor and Tenacious D frontman Jack Black:

The greatest frontman in the history of rock and roll is Ozzy Osbourne. Blizzard of Ozz cover "was the most metal thing I've ever seen, and I didn't even know what metal was" Then I went back to Ozzy's early albums, to Black Sabbath. And I thought, "Damn it, that bastard invented heavy metal... the darkest, heaviest shit the world has ever heard."

➖Completion of the ceremony

The ceremony of induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2024 ended on Saturday evening with a performance by Talking Heads with the song "Burning Down the House"

On Friday, it was 40 years since the release of Stop Making Sense, a concert film by Talking Heads, which included the song "Burning Down the House", as well as accompanying live album

THE DOORS turns 60 years old🎉

THE DOORS band actually broke up a long time ago, but formally it still exists and is even going to celebrate its 60th anniversary next year. On this occasion, a series of six vinyl records "The Doors 1967-1971", an anthology book and some other bonuses will be released. Among them will be the live album "The Doors - Live in Detroit" recorded on May 8, 1970. It will be released on vinyl for the first time.

THE 38 GREATEST HEAVY METAL BANDS

Last week, Forbes magazine compiled a list of heavy metal bands.

In their opinion, it was these 38 bands that "had the most significant influence in the metal genre." This rating took into account the history of the genre as a whole.

And to be honest, there are some "questions" for some of the groups on the list.

38. Carcass 37. At The Gates 36. Exodus 35. Behemoth 34. Napalm Death 33. Kyuss 32. Dream Theater 31. Nightwish 30. King Diamond 29. Danzig 28. Converge 27. Cannibal Corpse 26. Anthrax 25. Meshuggah 24. Machine Head 23. Lamb Of God 22. Mastodon 21. Sepultura 20. Type O Negative 19. Motörhead 18. Death 17. Dio 16. Megadeth 15. Gojira 14. Korn 13. Rammstein 12. Deftones 11. System Of A Down 10. Avenged Sevenfold 09. Tool 08. Slayer 07. Slipknot 06. Ozzy Osbourne 05. Judas Priest 04. Pantera 03. Iron Maiden 02. Black Sabbath 01. Metallica

Metallica. 1985.

"Being Better: The Story of Robbie Williams"

A teaser trailer for the movie "Being Better: The Story of Robbie Williams", a biopic of Robbie Williams, has appeared. Unlike most films about musicians, here the main character is played not by an actor, but by a computer monkey, which was voiced by the singer himself.

At the beginning of the trailer, Robbie Williams admits that he has always felt somewhat wild – which is probably why he appeared in the image of a monkey. The video features one of the main characters of the music, "Let Me Entertain You" and the album "Life through a Prism" (1997). The original title of "Better Man" is the song "Sing When You Win" (2000), which is part of the Robert Williams song of the same name.

[ghost-go-roasty-mctoasty]

I cant stop thinking about the bmol experimenting with Sam and thanks to @trials-era-sam confirming our hc with Sam's addiction (thank you Jared!!) i just had to write this-

"Names Sam. All we need are names." Toni repeats, tapping her pen against her stupid little notebook.

Even if Sam wanted to, he can't give her want she wants. He doesn't really know that many hunters to begin with, let alone all the hunters in the whole of the united states. Who does she think he is?

She sighs dramatically and puts both her pen and book down on the old table next to her, uncrossing her legs and standing up, taking a few steps closer to Sam.

"Fine." She muttered, "we'll just move onto the next phase, since you're choosing to be difficult."

She starts fishing around in her blazer pocket, in search for something, and Sam can tell she found what she was looking for when a small smile pulls against her lips and she slowly withdraws her hand out, holding what looks to be a small vial?

Sam tilts his head to try and get a better look at it. Is it another drug to induce hallucinations? A truth serum? Who knows what they've invented over across the Atlantic.

Toni scoffs at the confusion displayed on Sam's face, and holds out the vial for him to see, holding it up triumphantly as if she won a race or something.

The first thing he notices is how red it is. He stares for a few more seconds until he realizes, and he can practically feel all the air leaving his lungs.

They've been keeping tabs on him for a good 12 years, they know pretty much everything about him. He doesn't know why this didn't occur to him sooner.

"No." He practically hisses at her, his mind flooding with the pain of detox already. Although he doubts he will ever make it out of here, and hes kind of already given up trying to escape. Whats the point? Dean is dead, Cas will be fine without him. Lucifer is out there roaming free, theres nothing for him anymore.

He's completely content with these british people keeping him here.

But eventually he'll have to detox, he always does.

He can feel his heart starting to pick up pace.

The first detox was bad enough, but he can start to feel the panic raising at the thought of having to live through that now, what horrors would haunt him in his...less than stable state.

He doesn't know what he'd do if he has to see Lucifer or the cage again.

What atrocities would his mind conjure up this time?

He finds his mind rushing back to all the less than pleasant experiences in his life. How it felt to have an archangel inside of him. He thinks that’s why he didn’t realize Gadreel was in him for so long. In comparison to the searing pain of the literal devil in his body, some run of the mill angel was like a tick. Hardly worth his attention.

Toni clearing her throat snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up at her again, and couldn't hide the fact that his hands were shaking.

"Sam," she began "you have made less than ideal choices in your life." A pointed glance towards him. "But, that doesn't mean you still can't be utilised. We as men of letters firmly believe in sufficiency, and your way of...terminating demons is much faster than any excorsim that we have on hand. Don't you think?"

Sam thinks that his heart is going to give out with how fast it is pumping. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. The year of shame and regret with Ruby and all his mistakes crashing down on him.

"Please." He pleads, looking up at this awful woman through his wet hair. "You don't know what you're doing." He tries to reason with her, but with that glint in her eye, he knows shes not listening to a word he's saying.

"Cmon now Sammy, you can't tell me that you don't miss it." She exclaims, a soft undertone to her voice, as if shes trying to be understanding towards him. Sam scoffs.

And hangs his head in defeat.

They've burnt him, shot him, cut him up and probably broken a few ribs if his pain is any indication. He has no doubt that they will hesitate to do this to him too.

Hes just glad Dean won't be here to watch him turn into a monster again.

Everything Dean told him during that year comes rushing back as he clamps his mouth shut tight. He knows that this will happen to him with or without his consent, but he won't let it happen without a fight.

After all, she isn't Lucifer, he doesn't have to lay down and let her do whatever she wants to him. Hes allowed to fight back. And for Deans sake, he will try.

Toni notices Sams jaw muscles working, and sighs like a disapproving mother whose toddler just won't listen to her.

She roughly grabs Sams face and lifts his head up, making him look up at her.

And although his face is rock hard with determination, pure fear is flashing in his eyes.

He doesn't want to go back to that. To that feeling of desperately needing more and more.

Hes fought so hard against his addiction for so long now. Why is this happening? Chuck must think his life is a joke to do this to him.

But, he keeps his mouth closed tight as Toni tuts and pinches his nose closed, staring down at him patiently.

He hopes he's strong enough to let himself pass out before his mouth inevitably opens to let in air. At least then he could say he tried. But he knows the human body, he knows that when survival insticts kick in, he won't be able to fight it.

But he closes his eyes and tries to stay calm as toni pinches his nose tighter and grows more annoyed.

He starts to count.

Hes gotten to fifty seconds when his lungs really start to hurt.

67. His head has started to spin.

89. His teeth hurt from how hard he's clenching them.

92. He can feel the presence of the vial hanging above him like a carrot on a string. Patiently waiting for his mouth to open like they both know it will.

107. There are spots dancing behind his eyelids. He knows his body will betray him soon.

He lets out a silent prayer at second 115. Begging for someone to help him.

He wonders if Lucifer can hear him.

121. He gasps.

Before he can even suck in some precious air, the vial is being shoved in his mouth, and the metallic taste of blood on his tounge is the only thing his senses can focus on.

Its okay. Dont panic. He just has to spit it out like he did before. No biggie.

He ignores the way his body yearns for it. To swallow it. He ignores how his muscles are remembering how powerful they used to feel. He ignores how his throat is trying to gulp it down, actively working against the only rational part of Sam's brain.

The smell is overwhelming. The taste practically irresistible.

He doesnt have to swallow it. He doesn't have to let her win. He doesn't.

He goes to spit it out. Toni sees. She acts quicker than Sam can even realise.

She's pinching his nose again and roughly keeping her other hand over his mouth. Making sure that he can't possibly spit it out and cutting off all access to air.

Meaning he'll need to swallow it to be able to gasp for air.

He looks up at her with tears in his eyes. His head starting to spin again from lack of oxygen. He shakes his head softly, once again begging her not to do this to him, even though he knows this grovelling will get him nowhere.

She looks down at him with no emotion in her eyes. Even the smile on her face has faded. She just seems a bit bothered now. As if Sams resistance is just a small inconvenience to her.

He'll have to swallow soon. She knows it. They both know it.

Eventually Sam finds his throat working against him and swallowing down the sweet sweet blood.

As it goes down, he gasps out and Toni removes her hand. A satisfied smile on her face.

Sam, on the other hand though, couldn't be more disgusted with himself.

He would start crying if there was any liquid left in his body. He can already feel it. Feel the power thruming through his veins. He can feel his body yearning for more already, protesting that it wasnt enough.

He starts to shake. Silently sob. He cannot believe that this is happening to him again. That he has to go through this again, and all for what? Because some british people want to study him to see how he works and then do who knows what with him?

He starts sweating. Even that tiny amount enough to bring back a pretty severe addiction.

Toni sits back down looking smug. "How do you feel, Sam?"

He glares at her, although how effective it is with his shaking chin and dried tear streaks on his cheeks, he doesn't know.

"Alright." Toni nods at him and starts to make her way back up the stairs.

Sam starts to freak out, but refuses to show it. Not at least until she leaves the basement.

Theyre leaving him here. For how long? Are they going to make him go through detox now? Study his symptoms? Wait for him to start begging them for some more? Maybe, if Sams lucky enough, it wont be that bad, since it was only one small vial.

But he can already feel it. The way his head feels like it's getting squashed between two rocks, the way his stomach is rolling like he's about to vomit, the way his limbs are shaking quite violently.

Sam is never lucky. And this is going to hit him hard.

He hopes it doesnt get so bad that he starts begging for more blood. He'd never forgive himself if he fell that far.

He wishes Dean were still alive.

[inkdemonapologist]

Howdy, do you think Joey wrote dctl? Maybe this is obvious but I just had a big lightbulb moment bout it. Idk I think it’d be nice if they confirmed who all was in there since there’s at least 2 real world people who got put into the cycle in batdr and according to dctl so would Sammy and Buddy if we take it at face value. If it is part of the elaborate revenge fanfic that’s chill but you’re smart with this stuff and I feel like I’m missing something. -Love, long term follower hiding in anon

Omg, thank you for the kind words anon!

So, I’m sure it would be possible to interpret this all kinds of ways, but my primary feeling on the books, in light of the revelation of “in the canon of BatDR Henry is an inky construct created by Joey and BatIM takes place in a pocket dimension,” is that we have no reason to believe the books aren’t intended as real accounts. Like… JDS historically existed in the real world of BatDR. The Ink Machine is real to humans outside the cycle in BatDR.

If we assume the books are genuine accounts in the world of this franchise, that DCTL really happened and the Ink Demon really existed – that would track with Memory Joey’s statement that Joey Drew “created life” when the demon came to be. Audrey and Baby Bendy are able to exist in the real world just fine in BatDR, so there’s reason to believe the Ink Machine can actually make IRL 3D toons like we always thought it could.

But there ARE things to question.

Did Buddy... actually end up in the cycle? Did Sammy even end up in the cycle? Or was Joey just inspired by real events and real people when he made the cycle as his torture dimension for Henry? Mister Drew likely knew what happened to Sammy and Buddy – he was directly involved with Buddy, and knew about Sammy skulking around murdering folks – so maybe when he created the ink construct versions, he based them on a true story. We’ve suspected that the Boris we meet thought he was once something else, but it's also possible that the real reason he doesn’t remember his human self anymore is because he’s an imperfect copy created by a man who never really knew Buddy that well – there’s no actual human self to remember.

Narratively, it’s a bit of a scorched earth approach to making inconsistencies make sense, bUT IT DOES DO THAT… BatIM Sammy begging the demon to set him free from an inky body he hates seems sorta at-odds with DCTL Sammy chugging 50 bottles of ink because he believes the demon wants him to and smiling happily at the results, and I have to admit, “they’re not the same person; Joey just made that first person up” has a stronger argument in BatDR canon than “Sammy completely changed his mind for reasons we don’t get to see and must invent for ourselves.” In that light, the distinctions between the two become interesting – in DCTL, Sammy indirectly calls the demon a god, but doesn’t have the same worshipful, religious language in the way he speaks of it. He’s not desperate to be noticed; he believes he’s been chosen already and is acting on given instructions… so what if all of BatIM Sammy’s desire to be noticed and overtly religious language were added by Joey? After reading TIoL, I commented on how suspiciously on-the-nose Joey’s “who does a god worship” conversation with Sammy felt… well, that makes a lot of sense if the BatIM version of Sammy was actually created by Joey! That’s what he wanted to see in Sammy, and so that’s the Sammy he constructed. Also it’s kind of funny if Joey looked at an employee who seemed to be going mad from an actual cosmic horror experience just offscreen and was like “lets make a version of this guy for the cycle and make him a real loser, just the most pathetic man. Also buff.”

Imo, it’s entirely possible that every single character we meet in BatIM could be a copy, though some, like Sammy and Susie, could really go either way with the evidence we have – there’s not a conclusive answer (I guess we’ll see if Fade To Black gives us any additional evidence one way or another, haha). But whether the cycle contains any human souls at all, or just Joey’s created copies based on real events and how he imagines they would’ve turned out, the books can still be real accounts of things that happened in the world of Bendy.

And while I guess there’s no direct PROOF THE BOOKS DEFINITELY HAPPENED, there’s a few reasons I prefer to believe they did:

If the books didn’t happen in the world of Bendy, they actually are pointless as far as their effect on the world. BatIM’s characters may be copies, but they’re still aware, sapient beings who exist; they’re still real and a story about them is still a story that really takes place in the world. Everything we see happening to Ink Henry in BatIM really happened, even if it happened in another dimension, to an inhuman man who never really worked for JDS. But if DCTL and TLO were just stories made up by Joey, then they aren't real and they’d have no impact on the world at all.

Why would Joey invent these stories? Henry has no access to these books, and the reason Joey created the world of the cycle was, according to Memory Joey, somewhere between revenge and regret, angry at his failures and blaming Henry, creating a world that told his messed-up story in order to punish his partner for not being there to stop him from destroying himself. DCTL would not really add to this.

I don’t think Joey could write DCTL. Joey grew up in humble circumstances, but I don’t think he knows the kind of poverty Buddy experienced and I don’t think he’s self-aware enough about that privilege to write it, to write its emotional consequences. I don’t think the man who obliviously smooth-talked himself into believing he was always destined to be successful can write this kid who’s so deeply angry and ashamed at society’s injustice after eating a meal in a restaurant.

TL;DR:

As far as I can tell, it’s still possible for DCTL and TLO (and, obviously TIoL, though I think that one's less in question lmao) to be real accounts in the world of BatDR, but that doesn’t mean that characters who suffered inky fates necessarily ended up in the cycle. We know that the Allison, Tom, and Henry of the cycle are all inky constructs, but characters like Sammy and Malice and Boris are up to interpretation – there’s clearly meant to be an implication that they could have been human once, but whether they’re copies like Ink Henry with misplaced memories, or the actual original transformed human souls, we don’t know. The originals of Sammy and Susie especially could Just Be Dead (as is now implied with Norman), with Joey making up an alternate ending for them in the cycle. I don’t see any compelling reason to believe that DCTL was invented by Joey, nor is there any real reason for Joey to write this story.

Anyway i hope somewhere in this absurd essay I’ve answered the question you asked. xD I don’t think this is the definitive interpretation – you can decide all the books are, in-world, complete fiction if you want, and I don’t think any evidence contradicts you. This isn’t even the interpretation I’d pick to play with every time -- I like playing with the idea that everyone in the Cycle is a copy, and I consider it to have strong evidence in canon, but there's still something really compelling about folks in the Cycle genuinely being transformed employees whose existence tells us an indirect story about the fate of the studio. Ultimately a lot of things could go either way, but this is kinda, a few of my thoughts on the evidence we’ve got.

[unfallz]

sammidoll Thank you so much Leipzig for the most amazing welcome for @bulletheight last night.

[wordynerdygurl]

Hello Everyone! I've been conspiring with @sammy-jo1977 to create a new series of sorts. We want to explore all those characters that started us on our journey into Fandoms, large and small.

This series will be a place for those ladies and gents who haven't had a lot of attention recently, are old favorites or the ones you can't seem to shake. If you would like to contribute a chapter to this guide, please send me a message! We want to have a full and accurate guide, so we are hoping you'll hop in with your character of expertise!

As an example, I'm posting our first story... I'd love to get your thoughts! With Love - Your WordyNerdyGurl

In The Stacks - A Rupert Giles Story

Author’s Note:  This story is due, in large part, to my beta-bestie @sammy-jo1977 and it is part of the afore mentioned series.  This character might be off television, but his fiery spirit lives on!! As always, reblogs/ shares are encouraged as are comments and love!

Pairing:  Female Reader x Giles (Buffy The Vampire Slayer Series) Summary:  You get up to mischief with the librarian, in the stacks. Warnings:  SMUT ahead.  General Buffy knowledge might help, but is not required.  There’s a moment with a bit of blood, but hopefully nothing too triggering for anyone! I hope you enjoy!

“Mr. Giles?” “Just a moment!”  You heard the clipped British voice answer before being drowned out by the heavy thumping of falling books and the rustling sound of shifting papers hitting the floor. As you stepped further into the Sunnydale High library, you weren’t surprised to see the familiar faces of Buffy, Willow, Xander and Cordelia huddled around a small table.  The friends were practically inseparable and clearly close.  You found their kinship adorable and couldn’t help smiling at the group as you drew closer. “Hello to some of my best students!  And of course, to you Mr. Harris.  How is everyone today?”

Willow, stalwart student and overachiever, smiled broadly, “Pretty good.  I did ace my math quiz and got an A on my English paper… but, well, I only pulled a B on my Bio test and I just know that I could have done better.” Offering her friend a consoling pat to the shoulder, Buffy sighed, “It’s ok, Will.  You’ll get those cells next time!” “Tune in next week as Willow passes her AP Biology test with flying colors, on ‘As Sunnydale Turns’!” Before anyone could counter, Giles came around the corner carrying a sturdy stack of texts which he dropped onto the table as gently as the large load allowed, “As always, you four are the best assistants a librarian could ask for.” “Come on Giles!  You know I only hang out here for the beautiful ladies!” Pinching the bridge of his strong nose, Rupert Giles sighed, “I am well aware of where your interests lie, Xander.” “Please, he can hardly handle being with one beautiful girl.”  That was from Cordelia who pouted prettily, her hand mirror open as she fixed her hair. “My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen!  Thanks for that, Cordy.” Snapping the case shut, staring down her beau, she smiled, “You’re welcome.” “Uh, Mr. Giles, if I may?”  You hated to interrupt but you had come in with a purpose and you meant to see it through. “Yes, of course, how can I help?” Shuffling your feet, a bit nervous now with the asking, you smiled shyly, “I asked at the local library but they were absolutely no help.  You see, I’m looking for a specific point of reference and I was led to believe that you could help me.” “Oh!  Is it something for our Inner Vision collage boards?  I love working on mine, only… It’s not my fault that I only see dark clouds and blood when I close my eyes.” “Well, Miss Summers, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  And the best art challenges us to see that beauty.” “I hate to tell you what I see when I close my eyes.”  Xander retorted. “Ah, Mr. Harris, your collage certainly showcases your, ahem, cultured world view.” “Hey!  The Simpsons are fine art, ok?  Just because they don’t live in a museum doesn’t mean they aren’t culture.” Giles, unable to stand by any longer griped, “Xander, I am almost positive that cartoons do not count as culture.” You started to answer but Buffy cut you short, adding, “Don’t mind Giles.  If it doesn’t come out of some dirty, dusty old book it can’t be culture.” “It’s pop culture!  The entertainment of my generation!” It was your turn to cut in, turning to the tweed clad gentleman, “Actually, Mr. Giles, Xander has a point.  Cartoons and animation in general are all increasingly seen as valid forms of art.  No matter what your tomes might tell you.” Smirking a little, he appraised your answer before replying, “Be that as it may, Mr. Harris, the amount of television you consume is corrosive.” Raising his hands in defense, Xander’s head swiveled between the two of you as Willow chimed in, “Give it up, Xander.  You know you’ll never win and besides, I’m pretty sure that animation and art are different.  Wait.  They are, aren’t they?” “When I was in Rome last summer, the very attractive, very Italian tour guide told us that they’ve found painted graffiti on the Coliseum.  It only goes to prove that times change but people don’t.” “Cordy’s right!  About the art, not the dishy Italian.  And they didn’t paint it, they carved it.”  Bouncing her blonde hair decisively, Buffy made her declaration.   “Wouldn’t paint be easier?  I mean, who wants to carry a chisel in order to deface a wall?” “Oh!  Oh!  I know this!  The kind of paint needed to last for centuries hadn’t been invented yet!”  Willow, lifting out of her seat in the excitement of academic excellence, was giddy. “Yes, Willow, that is correct.  In fact, a lot of the graffiti is simple and very crude.  Mostly of the phallus, if memory serves.  I’m sure I can find a documented case in Agrippa if you’ll all just-” And you watched as everyone rolled their eyes as Giles trailed off, lost now in the hunt for a specific volume which could be sited, should further proof be needed. “Ew.  Pass.” “I’m with Buffy here, Giles.  Keep your Grecian graffiti out of my brain.” “I’ll stick with the Simpsons, thank you very much.” “Yes, well.  It’s not Grecian at all, is it?  It’s Roman-” Smiling broadly, Buffy hopped off the table, “Giles is right.  The Greeks were more into orgies!” “Buffy!”  Willow’s shocked response made you cover a laugh with a fake cough. “-Of course, cites are rare.  Very difficult to find documentation.”  Giles, typically, hadn’t given up the search. Cutting through the chatter, louder than it ever needed to be, the period bell sounded. "Ugh.  Gym class for me.  Why is this even a thing?" "I don't know Buffy, I thought you liked showing off in your little shorts and beating the boys at basketball." "Cordy, that's enough.  And while us boys do love looking at you, Buff... we don't love the beatings you regularly deliver." "Well, I have a free period Giles!  Do you want me to stay and -" Snapping shut the leather book he was gripping, Giles caught your eye and turned to the peppy student, "Uh, no Willow, I don't think so.  I believe I need to see what our Art Department is in need of at the moment." With a shrug, Willow began packing up her belongings as Xander slung his back back over his shoulder, "Will, you can come with me.  I'm going to find a nice little corner, under a tree, and sleep away my study hall." “But, I… I could help find the Agrippa?  Or… some other old Roman book?” Xander wrapped an arm around Willow and took Cordelia’s open hand, “But why do that when nothing calls?” "Another fine example of your scholastic aptitude, Mr. Harris", was your parting shot at the foursome as they walked out the door. "Well. Mr. Giles, now that we’re alone… Could I talk you into helping me out?" “Of course, of course.”  Pushing his glasses further up his nose, fixing his light eyes on yours, “What are we looking for?” Sighing deeply, knowing the chances were slim, “I was hoping we would find some examples of Pre-Columbian deity carvings.” Pausing, his look serious, Giles peered at you, “Interesting.  Anything in particular?” “Yes, actually.”  Again you flushed, more than a little flustered at what you were really looking for, “I’m researching fertility icons.” Raising his eyebrows, Giles started, more than a little outside of his comfort zone, but you had to give him credit.  He recovered from the shock rather quickly, “Oh… I… I see.  Well yes, I’m sure we can find… something.  If you’ll follow me, please.” “I’m right behind you.”  Biting into your bottom lip, you smiled to yourself.  Right behind Mr. Giles?  What a place to be.  Giles led the young art teacher through the deepest stacks of the library, pausing once or twice to confirm that she was keeping up with him.  He was ashamed to admit that he had lost travelers a time or two as he stalked through his overstuffed shelves, knowing instinctively where to find the book he needed most. For her, watching the tweed covered bottom of Mr. Giles was no hardship.  True, he was older and tad bit reserved in the best British way, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that underneath all the wool and starched cotton was the heart of a wild man poet. "Uh... just a bit further, I'm afraid.  Books like this, well, I keep them at a greater remove." "It makes sense.  Don't want the kiddos getting a hold of anything too tantalizing." "Of course not.  As you well know, they don't need much help in the libidinous response department." You chuckled softly, nodding as the air around you grew stuffier, "Too true!  You should see what some of them turn in and call art.  It would make a blind man blush." And at the mention of blushing, you were shocked to see a rosy hue grow on Mr. Giles' cheeks.  You liked it.  It reminded you of the high color in a Vermeer painting.  You couldn’t help the flutter in your belly at the thought, "Mr. Giles, have you ever seen a South American fertility statue?" "I can't say that I have... have... have you?"  Something about the idea of you examining an ancient artifact directly connected to sexual congress made his body stir.  "Hmm... Oh, yes.  I was able to study in Mexico for a semester.  Some of the art work is just incredible and the carvings, they're truly magnificent.  Carefully made.  Usually stone or..." swallowing hard, your throat suddenly dry, "hard wood." Breaking fast at the implication in your words, Giles froze in place which caused you to press directly against his broad, vest covered back.  You had a second to register the soft scent of his aftershave; something spicy and masculine, which made your mouth water.  Moaning quietly, you offered a weak apology, “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Giles.” Offering you his profile, the bookcases too cramped for him to turn around fully, you saw his sweet smile, “That’s… that’s quite alright.  In fact, we’re here.” Stepping out of the way, you pushed back against the opposite wall, the shelves digging into your spine in the confined space.  Giles bent over, giving you a great view of his backside, as he extracted a slim book from the bottommost ledge.  When he stood up, directly in front of you, the narrow, book covered alcove caused him to stumble. Giles’ chest collided with your own, forcing the air out of your lungs.  Instinctively, you lifted a leg, curling it over the swell of one trousered hip and lifting the hem of your knee length plaid kilt.  Nose to nose in a compromising position, you exhaled a shaky breath as Mr. Giles inhaled, “Close quarters around here.” Shifting under his deceptively hard figure, it was difficult to ignore all the places that were firm to the touch, especially when you could feel so much through the thin barrier of your cotton panties.  Bracing one arm on the obliging shelf biting into your shoulder, Giles pushed back a bit, lifting his weight off of you without making any other attempts to move away.  He was so close now.  Close enough to feel your fuzzy sweater and all the soft skin that trembled beneath it.  Close enough to see the pound of your pulse in your throat.  Close enough that when you licked over your bottom lip Giles could almost taste it too.  And why shouldn’t he?  “Giles?”  Your voice was whisper soft, fanning hotly over the face of your colleague. “Uh… yes?” “I’m stuck.” Blinking behind his thick lenses, it took the normally quick witted Brit a second to process your words, “You’re stuck?” Nodding slowly, your hair curling over your cheek, “My… My skirt.  It’s… uh, caught.  Caught on something behind me.” “Good heavens!  I’m so sorry, let me help you.”  Slowly, Giles lowered your bare leg to the floor, his hand lingering for a second longer than absolutely necessary.  He was still in your space.  Still incredibly close to you. You arched away from the bookcase in an attempt to free yourself with a groan that sounded heady in the stuffy stacks.  All you managed to do was force your sweater covered décolletage into Giles’ chest.  Stammering, a wave of sweat breaking over his brow, “Allow me?” The way your skirt was caught pulled the bright plaid lower on your waist than you would normally consider decent.  It meant that you had a fleshy strip of skin exposed along your tummy and Giles raised his eyebrows by means of asking permission to touch you.  “Yea, yes.  Please!” Tentatively, gently, you felt the strong fingers of Rupert Giles circle your waist and shivered at the unfamiliar familiarity of his touch.  Your chin rested on his shoulder as he worked and you couldn’t help sighing when he opened his hands and pulled you closer.  Under other circumstances you might have misunderstood the embrace but you were both professionals.  Not that you hadn’t considered the handsome book guardian a time or two before. “I… I think we’re almost there.  If you’ll just, maybe to the right?” “Um, sure.”  Following his directions you twisted in his arms, trying hard not to tear your outfit or rub against Giles.  All the close contact and talk of fertility gods had you feeling a little aroused and it wouldn’t do for your colleague to learn that fact. With a triumphant grunt, Giles set you free, only for gravity to kick back in.  The momentum created by your falling took the gentleman and the entire Grollier’s Gothic Almanac collection with you.  A cascade of papers, scrolls and dust rained down on you both. Coughing, aware that you were laying on something softer than the floor, you struggled into a sitting position, swatting away clouds of disintegrated pages, “Rupert?  Are you alright?” From beneath you a rumbling grumble that sounded like, “Yes quite… you?” was heard.  It was then that you realized exactly where you were.  Straddling your friendly neighborhood librarian, surrounded by debris, but safe, all the same. “Oh my!  I’m so-” “No, No.  Please, don’t apologize.  I’ve been meaning to reorganize this section and well, now it seems I’ve got no choice.” “You’ve got a bump.  Right here…”  Just over his right eye a small bruised egg, the color of lilacs, was starting to rise and you gingerly touched the swelling spot. “Then it will match the one on the back of my head perfectly.” “Poor Giles!  All of this injury in the name of research!” “No one ever tells you the dangers one might encounter in the library.” His dry British wit sent you both into giggles and suddenly nothing could be funnier than the moment you were in with Mr. Giles.  Looking up at you, his fingertip traced over your cheek, suddenly serious, “I’m not the only one with a war wound, it appears.” “Oh?”  Your hand covered his as you realized that you had a small cut, bleeding just a little, over the apple of your jaw.  Smoothing his thumb over your injury, Giles soothed you, saying, “Hush now, I think you’ll live.”  And you watched as Giles sucked the drop of scarlet from the pad there, his green eyes on yours, daring you.  Something about it was so… sinful.  So dark.  So alluring. Then his lips were on yours, suddenly and savagely.  Hands, firm and capable, slid under the fluff of your sweater along your spine as you tangled your own in his dark hair.  Giles, drawing you near, was satisfied only when you were splayed over him, writhing between the piles of text and stacks of piled paperbacks, as his tongue plundered your mouth. Trapped by his bent knees at your bottom, Giles helped center you over the firmness of his excitement, teasing you as you moaned, “Oh, oh Rupert!” “Call me Ripper.”  Before the word had left your throat, Giles was sloppily kissing over your neck, sucking lightly on the skin revealed by the v-neck of your top.  Sitting up quickly, you lifted the soft sweater over your head, tossing it away from you without concern.  Like one of the teenagers you might chastise, you then hugged your lover tight, gasping when you felt the nip of teeth over your bra.  “Giles… Uh, Ripper!  Please, go easy?”  With a hard grip on your upper thigh and one hand on the back of your neck, Giles held you still, smirking, “If you wanted easy you shouldn’t have come looking for fertility icons, my dear little art teacher.  And if this particular article of clothing-” He paused long enough to pinch at your hardening nipple before continuing, “-is dear to you, take it off.” Clenching your abdominals at his crass language, more turned on that you could remember, you reached behind you.  Unhooking the pretty scrap of lace and satin, you shyly covered yourself, biting into your bottom lip, “Fine… Ripper.  Should I be worried for my virtue?” “Absolutely.”  Without waiting for permission, Giles pulled your arms away, exposing your bare body to his blazing gaze, “You have nothing to hide, you know?  You are-” “Just shut up and kiss me, Ripper.”  And he did. Grinding your hips into his, it was impossible to ignore his hardening manhood, even through the fabric of his pressed trousers.  Giles cupped your bottom, under your skirt but over your panties, bouncing you in place as if he was already inside of you.  For your part, you tried to unbutton his pin striped shirt, but the force of his kisses was proving too distracting. “Oh, dear!  Poor thing been kissed senseless?”  He was teasing and cruel, but in the sexiest possible way. Red cheeked and huffing, you nodded, “Yes… let me touch you!” “Tsk… you didn’t say ‘please’.” “Please!  Please, Ripper!  Oh god, please let me!” Unseating you slightly, Giles leaned up on his elbows, cocking his head to one side as he took in the mess he had made of you, “Go ahead then.  Unzip my pants.” “What?” Removing his glasses, eyeing you darkly, “You heard me, I think.” Swallowing hard, your hands shaking with excitement, you reached for Giles’ belt.  Watching him, and only him, you slowly slide the leather from it’s buckle.  When you popped the button of his pants and let your hand drag over his hardened length, Rupert groaned and tossed his head back, “Yes.  Keep going.” Slowly, agonizingly so, you lowered the zipper as you were ordered to do, “What now, Ripper?” “Take me out.  I want you to feel what you do to me.” “I can do that.”  You played it cool, but the saucy words being said in that clipped British baritone did things to you.  They made your thighs tighten, your belly flutter and your breath catch.   Trailing a hand over Giles' barely exposed hip, you moved closer to the prize, your prize, as it pulsed with need.  Wrapping your hand around the meaty girth of Rupert's member, you couldn't help stroking the silky hot skin, so vital in your palm.  That it caused the man beneath you to moan your name only added fuel to the fire of your desire. Slick and sorely wanting, you licked your lips, ready to savor the flavor of your book stacking beau but he stopped you, saying, "Last chance to run back to the studio." "No way… Ripper."  And you felt a rough jerk as your panties were removed by force, the air cool on your overheated core.  Another kiss, full of needful things, distracted you as Giles parted your lower lips with his nimble fingers. Pumping into you, once, twice, just to ensure that you were ready, Rupert swiftly stretched your center.  With your small hand guiding his shaft, you lowered yourself onto the engorged tower of his power, crying out a ragged, "Oh God!" You thought you were capable of handling any man, but the delicious spread Giles' fine form forced you to endure was more than you expected.  Clutching at his bunched up sweater vest, your back arched tautly as Rupert dragged your hips down onto his unrelenting hardness over and over.   In your head, a rhythmic, tribal tattoo that made you think of ancient fires and curved statues took hold and you rose and fell against Giles on the beats vibrating through your brain.  He sensed it too, alternating his stroke, slowing down and speeding up in time with the thrumming pulse only the pair of you could hear.  "I want you to cum for me.  Do you understand?  Tell me you understand." "Yes!  Yes!  I'm so close, Ripper!  So close!" "Good.  That's very good."  Tingling now, your muscles tensed, ready for the release Rupert would provide.  You flung yourself onto his swollen sex without thought or reason, merely searching for the pleasure he had promised.  His thumb, so thick, so clever, pressed against your sensitive clit and your world imploded. Rupert felt it.  The moment your body and his melded together was forceful.  It tore his pleasure from his loins in grunting gasps as he experienced your ecstacy at his hands. Limp and listless, you draped your half nude body over his, dazed and drained.  Who knew screwing the librarian would feel this good?  In your post coital haze you started to laugh.  Giles, his hands roaming over the sweat soaked skin of your back, heard your chuckles and joined in.  It was another release, of sorts, and you found it almost as intimate as the act you had just committed. Folding your hands under your chin, flashing Rupert a wide smile, "Ripper, huh?" Sliding his glasses back into place and carding a hand through his hair, Giles grinned, "Oh, uh… yes.  Ripper.  My nickname in London." Toying with the collar of his shirt, "I'd love to hear about London sometime… Ripper." At the sound of that name in your voice, Rupert flexed inside of you, "Call me that again and you'll miss last period." Gasping against him, nodding weakly, "Hmm… promise?" That made him smile broadly as he handed you back your sweater, "We can't have a repeat of last week, can we?" "It wasn’t my fault you didn't hear the bell ring, Mr. Giles!" Sitting up, you fastened your bra and shrugged into your sweater before asking, "Did you have to destroy my undies?" "I'm afraid I did.  Although I told you to remove anything dear, didn't I?" "What am I gonna do for the next hour, Giles?" Pushing his glasses up, "I would advise you not to bend over." Swatting at him playfully, you used one of the sturdier shelves to stand, adjusting your skirt and fluffing your hair.  Looking around at the absolute mess created by falling books, embarrassed, you asked, "Can I help clean this up?" "No, I don't think that'll be necessary.  After all, Willow will be in-" "Along with Buffy and Xander and Cordelia.  Got it." Standing himself, Giles chuckled as he fastened his trousers and set himself to rights, "Precisely.  Now-" he bent over to retrieve a slim volume, "- The book you asked about.  Fertility iconography in Meso-American subcultures." "Thanks.  Ya know, I always enjoy coming to the library.  I'm surprised more people don't." Walking with you, his hand on your lower back, nuzzling into your neck, "I enjoy you cumming in the library." It was on the tip of your tongue to say something fresh when the overly loud bell clanged.  Lifting up on tiptoes you pressed a kiss to the goose egg over Giles' eye, saying, "I hope that makes it feel better!" Snagging you into a tight hug, Giles stared into your eyes before kissing you deeply, "That.  That makes it feel better." And then the library door swung wide on the four students who called the library a second home, "Um… are my eyes deceiving me or is Giles sporting a black eye?  I was only gone for an hour, big guy, what happened?" "If you must know, Xander, a shelf collapsed in the back.  We were fortunate enough not to be badly hurt but, there were some bumps and bruises." "A shelf!  Oh no… which one?!" Giles turned to Willow solemnly, "I'm afraid all the Grollier’s… and most of Crentist." "On it.  Come on Xander.  You can help me sort!" "Aw, gee.  That sounds like fun." As the pair trotted off, you turned to Giles, whispering low, "Dinner?  My place?  You can tell me about London, your childhood and why you love tweed." Eyeing Buffy, who was distracted and a distraught, Giles answered, "Tonight?  Um…" "He'd love to!  Say 9 o'clock?  And, he'll bring the wine."

Spinning on your heel, surprised that Buffy was your champion, you grinned, "Great!  Awesome!  I will see you then."

As you left you heard the bubbly blonde doling out instructions, "No Giles.  You can't wear that outfit to dinner!  You need to look nice.  Nicer than you do now.  Also, why is there so much dust in your hair?" If Giles answered you didn’t hear it over your big yawn.  You had a lot to do between now and 9 o’clock.  Rupert Giles was coming over for dinner and you could hardly wait.

------ Fin ------- I’m tagging my minxes, even though this is specifically NOT a Loki story.  I do want you guys to send me stories that might fall under the “Hot Characters” banner though!   Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion​ @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​ @jenjen8675309​​ @that-one-person​​ @roguewraith​​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

[liron-ao3]

Kiss to that

Destiel oneshot

"How long have you two been married?" Marcus asks as Dean and Castiel sit on the sofa in his living room where they want to find out if the man and his husband Louis are haunted by a ghost.

Dean moves to the side instinctively, not even sure why he and Castiel ended up sitting shoulder to shoulder in the first place, with the sofa big enough for them not to.

Castiel furrows his brow. "We're not married."

"Oh, sorry," Louis says. "You don't need a ring to prove your love, right?" He looks at them so kindly that Dean schools his features into a smile.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm happy for you guys."

Marcus nods and presses a kiss on his husband's cheek. Dean can see Castiel tilt his head and tighten his eyes as he watches the two men opposite them exchange easy affection. The corners of his lips curl up into a smile. Dean's eyes linger on it for a long moment.

"I think we have everything we need," Dean says, pulling his gaze away, and gets up. "Thank you for your time."

***

"It must be a homophobic ghost. Their queerness is the only thing the victims have in common," Sam reasons. "It's our best shot."

"I won't kiss my brother," Dean says firmly.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Me neither. Cass, would you mind making out with a man in public?"

Castiel looks up from the paper he's reading. "As a bait for the ghost?" Sam nods. "Sure. I've never kissed someone taller than I, though."

Dean rolls his eyes and pushes the memory of Castiel's tongue cleaning Meg's tonsils away.

"Just kissing, or do you think we need to do more to attract the ghost? The couples were all heavily 'making out' when they were attacked."

Sam snorts at Castiel's air quotes. "Nah, I think kissing will be enough, as long as it looks intimate."

Castiel hums in agreement.

***

The park looks suspiciously calm when Dean stops the Impala on the adjoining street that night.

"Are you ready for it, or do you need to practice first, buddy?" Dean asks, his nervousness hidden behind the thick mask of a grin that is so fake that it hurts. Kissing a crush is never a good idea. Dean learnt that lesson at 13, when he kissed Jenny McFarlane after spinning the bottle.

"We're going to be fine," Castiel states evenly.

Sam pats him on his shoulder before he slides out of the backseat and opens the door for him like a perfect gentleman.

When Dean steadied himself with several deliberate breaths, he walks around the car, ready to do what he hasn’t allowed himself for years now. His breath hitches as he passes Baby's hood. Sam and Castiel are standing there, their fingers already intertwined. Dean stares at their joint hands for an embarrassingly long moment before he clears his throat.

"I thought we—"

Castiel raises his eyebrow. "You're coming with us? I thought the third waited in the car as back-up?"

"Um," Dean replies eloquently and runs a hand over his face. "Mints, anyone?" Sam gives him a strange look. Dean shrugs. "Just wanted it to be good for you if you have to suck face and play gay."

"I'm not playing gay," Sam says.

"Me neither," Castiel adds, and Dean nearly topples over from the impact of both their impromptu coming outs.

"O—okay. I'm happy that sucking face won't suck that much, in that case," Dean replies, wincing at his own stupid words, his stomach tying itself into knots. Sam and Castiel will only fake a relationship. No biggie, right?

Sam chuckles and grins at Castiel. "We both know that we're not attracted to each other," he says easily as if this was a topic he had discussed with Castiel in abundance.

Wait! Have they?

Castiel nods in agreement. "Sam isn't really my type," he says, eyes turning glassy for a moment.

Dean swallows down the urge to ask him what exactly his type is. But his eyes fall on his watch. Dammit! Only two minutes until the usual attack time. The ghost is strangely scheduled. He ushers the 'couple' to the next best park bench and scans the surroundings, mainly for not needing to look at them as they start their smooching. But nothing happens for ten long minutes

When Dean is ready to call the whole thing off, Sam's phone starts ringing. Dean gives him an annoyed look. "Really?" he mouths when Sam looks guiltily at him. Oldest mistake since the invention of mobile phones. Sam raises his hand and motions to Dean to take his place.

Dean hesitates for a long moment, but then his eyes fall on Castiel's lips, glistening wetly in the moonlight. Dean sighs and walks to the bench, sitting down a little stiffly. He grabs Castiel's hand.

"Are you alright with this?" the angel whispers.

"Sure. I may not be gay, but lips are lips, right?"

Castiel nods quietly. "We should start then. Sam surely will get a good look at her so that we can find out which of our suspects it is. They are nothing alike."

Dean nods and wets his lips. "Okay. Let's do this." He cradles Castiel's face in his hand. It's weird with the stubble scratching against it. Weird, but not unpleasant. He runs his thumb over Castiel's lips, erasing any trace of his brother. Then, he leans in and brushes Castiel's lips with his own. It's not half bad, but Castiel isn't really reciprocating the kiss. Didn't have a problem when it was Sammy, Dean thinks, feeling sore.

"Go with it, man. It must be believable. Otherwise, the ghost will ignore us," Dean says, and Castiel complies.

Dean wouldn't have thought Castiel to be such a good kisser. This isn't a pizza man kiss. This one is passionate yet gentle. Castiel's hand ends up in Dean's short hair, and the hunter grabs the lapel of the angel's trench coat. It feels really, really nice, Dean has to admit. Better than he had imagined over the last years.

No, Dean hasn't lied. He isn't gay. Technically, his little brother and the multidimensional wavelength brushing his tongue through Dean's mouth with celestial intent aren't either. But hey, 'umbrella term' and all that stuff Charlie has taught him.

What a bad idea it was to kiss his best friend slash secret crush only registers when Dean hears Sam curse and a crowbar flies over their heads, right through the ghost that was about to attack them.

"Could've killed us with that thing!" Dean shouts.

"Thank me later." Sam grins. "Come on, it was the blonde. Let's get her salt'n'burnt."

Dean gets up from the bench, Castiel's hand still in his own. The angel doesn't move, a rapturous look adorning his face. "Come on, Cass. Before she returns."

Castiel blinks himself out of his daze.

***

They watch the bones go up in flames together. Castiel touches Dean's cheek and heals the cut that the ghost left there in a last attempt to keep him from bringing her haunting to an end.

"One less homophobic soul in this world," Sam says.

"I'll drink to that," Dean replies.

Sam smirks at him. "Better kiss to that. I'll get my own room," he says.

Dean blushes crimson, the red even visible in the firelight. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Sam shakes his head. "Only that there is a reason why it worked on you and not on Cass and me."

Castiel pierces him with his gaze, but stays silent.

Sam huffs a laugh. "You two are idiots! Can't you see that the ghost only attacked people who were truly in love?" He shakes his head and wanders off in the direction of their motel, not far away from the cemetery.

Dean looks at Castiel with shock-widened eyes. "I'm not—"

Castiel grins at him. "That's a shame. Because I am."

"Son of a bitch!" Dean presses out, and just like that, they are kissing again, in the middle of nowhere in front of an open grave. Who says romance is dead?

[theoreticslut]

Tu m'appartiens // g.w.

pairing: george weasley x reader

 requested: no

word count: 3.4k

warnings: some jealousy, somewhat steamy dialogue?, fluff

A/N: Ahhh! I’ve been wanting to write this for like two weeks now, and thanks to my brain deciding 3am is the perfect time to remember my high school french lessons and create a full french conversation as I’m trying to go to bed, I figured why not write it today when I’ve already got a good portion of the french out of the way. It also helps that my laptop magically started behaving again for me so I could type on here instead of my phone. I’m very excited to have this done, and I really hope you guys like it too. I feel like I’ve lost my touch for writing so I’m just trying to get back into it. disclaimer - I have never and will never claim fluency in french. All the french in this is simply from my memory of how things should be formatted with help from the internet. If you fluently speak french and notice there’s errors, don’t worry about letting me know. Just be kind about it. That or you can just ignore it for me, that’s be cool too. Anyways, I hope you guys like this!! Xx

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*Translations added after each phrase!

"Mon Cheri! (Honey) I'm home. How was your day today?" Your father asks as he apparates into the kitchen. You smile, closing the fridge door as you grabbed a bowl of grapes.

"Bonjour, papa. I've been good. How about you? How was work?" You ask, taking a seat at the kitchen island while your father busies himself with taking off his jacket and getting comfortable.

"Good, good. You remember that eccentric coworker of mine I was telling you about? Arthur?"

You nod, popping a grape into your mouth. It was one of the first things he had told you about after moving here to Britain and starting work at the Ministry. You had to admit that the man sounded interesting. Bright red hair and obsessed with muggle inventions. He sounded like he'd be a fun person to talk to. Not to mention, your father had said he was extraordinarily kind and welcoming. You were glad he had met someone to get him acquainted with the new job.

"We were talking today and I had mentioned that you were going to be starting at Hogwarts beginning of September, so of course he was wondering how old you were. So I told him, and guess what? It turns out he has two sons - twins - your age."

"Vraiment (really)? That's cool, papa. You think they'll be able to help me adjust to Hogwarts?"

"I'm hoping, mon cheri (honey). Arthur invited us over for dinner to introduce us to his family, and so you could meet his children. Says he's got the twins that are your age, a boy two years younger, and a daughter a year younger than that. At the very least, you can get to know some kids before starting school, yeah?"

"Of course. It sounds like fun, papa. When did he invite us over for?"

"Sunday. Is that alright?"

"Perfect! Can't wait!"

~.~

When Sunday finally comes around, you're a mess of nerves and excitement. You nervous about meeting new people, especially kids you'd be going to school with. You didn't have any problems with school or having friends back at Beauxbatons, but being in a new country, you weren't sure what people would think of you.

It's not like you weren't a kind and friendly person, but there was the worry of people teasing you for speaking a different language. You knew English well enough, but you still had the French accent which you were sure sounded funny to others.

"Are you ready, y/n?"

You look up to see your father poking his head into the room. You smile and nod, taking a deep breath to calm your rising nerves. You weren't usually this nervous about anything, but you could feel your heart racing and palms sweating. You only hoped you wouldn't make a fool of yourself in front of the Weasley family.

"Yeah. As ready as I can be I guess."

He smiles, motioning for you to follow him out. You quickly grab your jacket and bag, taking one last glance around the room to make sure you weren't forgetting anything. Sighing, you decide that you've got everything you think you'll need before following your father out of the apartment to your shared car.

Since you hadn't yet been to the Weasley's home, you decided it would be best to drive there instead of apparating or using the Floo. You weren't sure exactly how far away they lived, but it couldn't have been too far.

~.~

Reading road signs, you smile as you drive through Ottery St Catchpole as it's a quaint little town with few houses spread across the land. You figured it was as beautiful a place as any to live, better than in the middle of a larger town like you and your father did. Out here you got to hear birds and nature, whereas the town rang loud with cars and chatter. You could never find any peace in the city, but there was no shortage of it here.

"Well that's nice." you hear your father compliment, looking at the slightly lopsided house in front of the two of you.

"Is this the Weasley's?"

"I believe so. It's a nice home they've got, isn't it mon cherie (my dear)?"

"Beautiful. It looks like it'd be homey inside." You smile, getting out of the car as your dad turns off the car.

"y/d/n, I'm glad to see you. This must be your daughter?" A red-haired man asks, smiling at the both of you as he comes out from the house.

"She is. It's nice to see you, Arthur. Thank you for inviting us to dinner."

"Yes, merci (Thank you) Mr. Weasley." You smile, curtseying lightly at the older man.

"It's nice to meet you, dear. Y/n, right?"

You nod and smile, shaking the hand that Arthur holds out to you.

"Oui (Yes). It's nice to meet you too."

"Well come on inside and meet my wife and our children. Get comfortable." Arthur invites, leading you and your father back to the house.

Upon entering you're met with a hug from an older woman, who you can only assume is Mrs. Weasley. Already you're liking this family, but you can't help but notice that she too sports ginger hair.

"Hello, Hello. It's so nice to meet you. You must be, y/n?"

"Uh, yes. Enchanté, Mrs. Weasley. It's nice to meet you." You smile, a small blush coming to your cheeks.

Your father was an affectionate person, but this was a whole new level. You can't say you didn't mind it though. You hadn't even been inside the house for five minutes yet, but you already felt welcomed and cared for.

"Oh, dear. Call me Molly. I'm so glad you and your dad decided to come tonight. Arthur hasn't been able to stop talking about his new French co-worker and daughter."

You nod, chuckling a bit. Your dad has been the same way about Arthur. It's no surprise that they were friends.

"When I found out how old you were, I just had to invite you all over. My children are...somewhere around here. Let's introduce you. Fred and George are in the same year, so I thought it'd be great for you three to get to know each other before classes start."

"Of course. I appreciate it tremendously, Molly. It'll definitely be nice to know at least someone when I start."

"Of course, dear. Here, one second."

"Fred! George! Ron! Ginny! Come meet our guests!"

You smile, taking the time to look around the house at all the pictures and personal touches. There was no denying that this house was full of love.

"Guests?" You hear someone ask, footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Yes, Fred. I told you all we'd be having your father's work friend and his daughter over this weekend." Molly sighs as two identical boys come into view.

You can't help but chew on your lip as you smile lightly. The two boys were definitely attractive, but you didn't want to think about that right now. You weren't looking for a relationship.

"Boys, meet Y/n." Molly introduces, motioning towards you.

"Hi. Enchanté."

" Enchanté?" they ask, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Nice to meet you. It's a standard greeting, guys." You hear someone else call and your attention is drawn over to the doorway where yet another ginger has appeared with a blonde attached to his arm. You're not quite sure why, but the blonde seems even more comforting than Molly.

"Bill! I'm glad you and Fleur and could make it!" You hear Molly smile, pulling the man into a hug as the blonde smiles, greeting the woman with a small hug.

"Ohh. It's nice to meet you too. I'm George." one smiles, holding his hand out for our to shake.

"I'm Fred." The other introduces, giving you a cheeky smile as you blush lightly, shaking both of their hands.

You try to find any differences between them, but there's not many. You can tell that one, George if you remember correctly, has a bit more of an oval-shaped face compared to his brother, but that’s about all you can tell right now.

“Ah, Salut! Bon soir.(Hi! Good evening)” The blonde greets, excited at having another French women in the place. She loved Bill and his family, but she did miss France. She could only imagine how overwhelmed to must feel.

“Bon soir.” You greet, smiling as she quickly kisses each of your cheeks in typical French greeting.

“Je m’appelle Fleur. Tu t’appelles est...?” (My name is Fleur. Your name is...)

“Y/n. Enchanté (nice to meet you), Fleur. Comment ça va (how are you)?” You inquire out of politeness, realizing now why she seemed so comforting to you when she walked in - she was French which was familiar, hence comforting.

“Enchanté. Ça va très bien! Et toi?” (Nice to meet you. I am very well! And you?)

“Eh, ça va. C’est trés fou (eh, okay. It’s very crazy)” you chuckle, earning a small chuckle and nod from her.

“Ah, oui (yes). You get used to it though, y/n.”

You sigh and nod, looking around at all the people currently occupying the house. You definitely did not expect this when your father had told you that you'd been invited over for dinner.

~.~

"So, y/n, dear. Are you excited for Hogwarts?" Molly asks as you all sit down and eat dinner.

"I am. I'm a bit nervous though. Never really thought I'd be transferring schools this late in my education, especially to another country."

"That's understandable, dear. Hogwarts is wonderful though. All of my children have gone there, and you'll have these four to help get you situated." She smiles, nodding towards the twins, ron, and Ginny, who you met shortly after Fleur.

"Absolutely! It'll be so much fun having you around." Ginny smiles, taking a bite of her food.

"What did you think of hogwarts when you visited, mon ange (my angel)?" You hear Bill ask Fleur.

You furrow your brows, not expecting Fleur to have attended Hogwarts.

"It was nice. Different to Beauxbatons, but I don't ‘ave any complaints." She smiles.

You nod, feeling a little better knowing that someone else had had a good experience with the school having come from another country.

"Fred and George, I'm sure, will have no problem showing you around and introducing you to people. And they'll behave for your sake." Molly indirectly threatens, a chuckle leaving Fred's lips.

"Of course, mum. We won't scare the poor girl. Not right away at least."

"Pardon (excuse me)?" you ask, a little worried about who your classmates were already.

"Ignore him, y/n. They like to pull pranks around the castle, but if they ever pulled one on you, I'm sure they know that I'll be coming for them, don't you guys?" ginny questions, cocking a brow at her two older brothers.

"Of course, Gin. We wouldn't dream of pranking y/n here." George states, both him and Fred looking a bit nervous at their sister's warning.

You chuckle, smiling at the ginger girl who is quickly becoming your favourite weasley. She sends a small wink your way, enjoying the hold she has over her brothers.

~.~

You sigh, gulping back nerves as you look at all the students around the platform. You knew that Hogwarts wasn't a small school, but you had never really stopped to consider just how many students there would be.

"You doing okay?" Fred asks, him and George coming to stand either side of you.

"Just perfect." You quip, your eyes dancing with worry as your heart pounds out the

song.

"Breathe, y/n. We'll be here and so will Ron and Ginny. I'm sure Hermione will be by your side too once she gets to know you." George reassures, resting his arm on your shoulder.

"Y/n!"

You turn at the call of your name, lighting up when you see Fleur and Bill coming your way. You luckily made friends with Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny pretty quickly, but you were beyond grateful you had made friends with Fleur as well. She has truly been the one keeping you calm and getting adjusted to Britain so far.

"Fleur! I'm glad to see you!" You smile, hugging her.

"Respire (take a breath/breathe). You'll be fine, I promise."

"Ahh, Je suis très nerveuse (Ahh, I am very nervous)." you admit. She gives you a small smile, noticing the worry in your face.

"Je sais (I know). just breathe."

You take a deep breath, watching her anxiously as she sends you a small smile.

"You will be fine. Je le jure (I swear)."

"Y/n, we better board the train soon if we want a good seat." George calls to you, nodding towards the train behind him.

"I'll be right there." You sigh, a smile playing on your lips as you watch the ginger twin you've become friends with.

"Y/n...Que penses-tu de lui (what do you think of him)?" Fleur asks you, taking notice of how much you've seemed to calm down while looking at him.

"Qui (who)? George?"

"Ah, oui." She says, as if it was obvious.

"Oh. Uh, Je ne sais pas. Je veux dire...Il est très mignon." (oh. Uh, I don’t know. I mean...he is very cute.)

She smiles, glancing back at Bill as she replies, "Je le savais (I knew it)!"

"Fleur! Shush. It's not like anything's going to come of it."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Y/n. Anyways, you need to get going! Bonne chance (good luck). You'll do great!"

You huff, frowning as Fleur shoves you towards the train and where George is standing. You adore her, but she sure is frustrating at times. How could she possibly think you have a chance with him?

He smiles when he sees you, grabbing your hand with his as he pulls you on to the train, barely giving you a chance to catch your balance from when Fleur pushed you.

~.~

"Tu es un idiot (you are an idiot), george." You sigh, shaking your head at the redhead as he makes a stupid joke.

"Hey!" he laughs, understanding what you said thanks to you teaching him a bit of French here and there.

After noticing how you spoke in french from time to time, George asked you to teach him just for fun. That and he kind of wanted to know what you were saying.

He truly enjoyed it too. He loved listening to you speak french and loved it even more when you complimented him on his pronunciation. He couldn't help but feel proud when you smiled at him because he finally understood a word or started pronouncing it right, either.

You two have become really close since you started teaching him, too. You could easily say that he was your closest friend here, but you would never complain about it. George was amazing to talk to and hang out with, always making you laugh and smile.

Although, as you had at Beauxbatons, you easily made friends here at Hogwarts. You might not have been close to any of them like you were with George, but you almost always had someone you could say hi to in the halls.

George was glad you could make friends so easily as he knew how anxious it had made you, but at the same time, he was a bit jealous. He's not sure why or when this happened, but he found himself not wanting to share you. He didn't want you being friendly with other guys, and he surely didn't want them being friendly with you.

George wasn't blind, nor was he dumb. He knew how attractive you were, having been taken aback when he first saw you that night at his house for dinner. He knew that others would find you attractive, especially since you were a new girl and had this beautiful accent. On top of that, you were just overwhelming charismatic. Not only were you kind, but you were brilliant and confident. You easily captured the attention of a room wherever you were, and maybe that's why George was so jealous. You were no longer his little secret, but rather a well-known personality among everyone.

"Are you ever nice to me?" he pouts, jokingly as you. You purse your lips in thought, following in the joking tone.

"Ehh, parfois (sometimes). I did teach you French if you remember correctly."

"That you did, ma lapine (my bunny). " he smiles, bumping his shoulder with yours.

~.~

"Yeah, if you'd ever like to study together, we could get together..."

George fumes as he watches Roger Davies shamelessly flirt with you. He knew this would start soon enough, but that doesn’t mean he'd like it. He's still jealous whenever some guy says hi to you, not that he has any right to, but he does.

As he watches you smile and agree with Davies, he can't help but start clenching his jaw together, absentmindedly grinding his teeth.

He should be the one you're talking to and flirting with, Not Davies nor anyone else. He should be the one to be bring a smile to your face and a laugh from your lips. He should be the one you're with, not anyone else.

In all reality, he's the one that fell for you first. Surely you have to see that. Or at least feel that. Otherwise why would you smile at him the way you do? Why would you spend your nights with him, even when you have Ginny and Hermione and your roommates to hang out with?

"Bonjour, mon amour (hello, my love)." you greet, having taken to calling him your love shortly after he started calling you his bunny.

"George? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" (what’s wrong?)

You frown as he looks upset, angry. You can't recall him looking this angry over anything before. Sure you've only known him since July, but that's still a lot of time for you two to see each other in a number of emotional states.

You pout, eyes filled with concern as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you tight to his side before you start walking to merlin knows where.

"Hey, y/n, Ma lapine."

"yes, Qu'est-que c'est (what is it)?"

You watch as George leans down, lips barely ghosting over your ear. The only reason you know he's there is from his hot breath fanning over the crest of your ear. You gasp a little, trying to contain a shiver as you feel your heart rate quicken at his proximity. You've liked George practically since you met him, but you never expected anything to happen between the two of you. He's got your mind spinning right now, however, with his actions.

"George" You mumble, turning your head slightly towards him.

"Tu m'appartiens (you belong to me)." He nearly growls, your knees becoming weak at his statement.

"Pardon (sorry)? George, what-"

"Comprenez vous? Tu m'appartiens (Do you understand? You belong to me)." He states again, butterflies erupting in your stomach as your mind blanks to anything aside from him.

"Oui...Oui (yes), George. Je t'appartiens (I belong to you)." you answer, quietly, not quite believing what you're hearing. You belong to him? Please, that's a dream. A very, very, very pleasant dream.

"Good. I don't like seeing other guys flirt with you, and I don't like seeing you so friendly with them back. I like you, y/n. Je t'aime beaucoup (I like you a lot)."

"mon dieu (my god)." You sigh, your knees still weak and the desire to kiss him only intensifying with each passing second.

"You okay, ma lapine (my bunny)?"

"You will be the death of me, george weasley. I like you, too, and merlin I want to kiss you."

He chuckles, the sound melodic to your ears, as he leans closer to you with a smile resting on his lips.

"Yeah? Can you ask me that in French?"

"The death of me, weasley." You sigh, loving the soft chuckle coming from his lips.

"embrasse-moi, s'il te plait." (please kiss me)

"I really love when you speak French, darling." He smiles, a soft groan leaving his throat before he's pressing his lips to yours.

You smile against his lips, not quite believing this is real until he nips at your bottom lip, drawing a soft whine from your body and a blush to your cheeks.

"I really like you, George. I'm so glad we met when we did." You smile, looking up into his beautiful brown eyes once you pull away from the kiss.

"Me too, darling." He agrees, pressing a quick kiss to your lips again before suggesting you go find your friends, or at the very least get out of the halls before a teacher catches the two of you.

You can't help but smile as he slides his hand into yours as you walk, squeezing your hand gently as if he needed the reassurance that you were there and real. You honestly never expected to find a boyfriend when you moved, but you were quite happy with the chain of events that led you here.

[nocturna-starr]

Intentional Creation

Prompter: @phantomphangphucker

Prompt: Danny created Phantom intentionally and knew full well what he was doing, the first time.

Words: 1508

In Danny’s totally unbiased opinion, his parents were naive. They were creating a portal to another world! Did they not expect said inhabitants from said world to make an appearance in the living realm? Or did they believe that somehow the very creatures they wanted to study wouldn’t be curious themselves?

“Don’t worry Danno! No ghost would dare cross through Jack Fenton’s portal!”

Sure.

“Danny, your parents are the experts, right? Just leave it to them! Everything will be okay!”

Yep… Nothing to worry about…

“Ghosts aren’t even real!”

Was everyone around him actually this stupid?

He should be playing the newest update for DOOM or studying for Mr. Lancer’s test on the Merchant of Venice. He should not be studying his parents research to make sure they didn’t blow up the house or contaminate him and Jazz again like they did the last time Jack and Maddie Fenton tried to invent a green energy source.

Suddenly Danny heard a knock on the door.

“Danny, it’s Jazz. Aren’t you going to get some sleep? We have school tomorrow!”

“Just looking over some papers.” Danny called. He heard his sister huff, but fortunately she didn’t push the issue forward. No doubt she herself would be up all night studying some new psychology book she had found in the library.

And she said that she was nothing like their parents.

He found himself glancing at the numbers. Math may not be his best subject, but to his untrained eye the calculations his mother made had no mistakes. The machine they were going to finish would certainly rip a hole into another dimension.

Then his dad would tell anyone and everyone who would listen that he would protect them from the threat he himself had created. His dad would go up against the wrong supernatural creature and…

Despite how much his father annoyed him, Danny loved the man. He couldn’t imagine a world without Jack Fenton. His mother, a former cop, might be able to handle the situation slightly better, but even she would become overwhelmed by the ghosts eventually. They needed someone who was on the same power level as the ghosts and who would protect humanity rather than harm it.

Didn’t his parents say that someone had gotten ectoradiation due to their naivety the first time they had built s portal? What was his name again… Paul… Chad? It didn’t matter. Maybe it was possible to replicate something like that! But instead of being contaminated, maybe one could fuse with the ectoplasm.  But who could he convince to give up their humanity for the world?

Danny put down the papers. Didn’t Sam say she wanted to make a difference?

xXx

“Whoa! I can’t believe it dude! Your parents actually made a real portal.” Danny’s best friend Tucker Foley gawked at the expensive machinery in the wall.

“Yeah, if only it worked.” Danny eyed the knobs at the side of the portal. Everything was still in position fortunately. His dad for once in his life had decided not to fiddle with something he had not done.

“It’s actually pretty cool, even not working. Imagine the worlds that are barely out of reach.” Sam sighed.

Danny smiled. Sam was still innocent. He hoped that her optimism, despite being a ghost, would remain. It would suck if he had to repeat the experiment all over again. Tucker wouldn’t be as powerful a ghost. Anyone after that would be a malicious ghost that Jack Fenton would have the honour of destroying.

The goth gently touched the portal, as if it were something sacred. It was like she knew her place of death was here. Tucker snapped a couple of pictures. Danny watched them, noting each soft smile or excited look sent his way. Would they feel this way when the portal took everything they knew in a couple of minutes?

“Wanna look inside?” Danny asked. He felt his heart begin to race. This was the moment that would forever change humanity. In the future, kids would be talking about the origin story of Sammy Geist or Tucker Ghouly. Would they see him as a good person, or a mad scientist? Would they understand why he did this and not judge him only on his actions? Or would they allow his name to fade to time because no one would ever know that the accident wasn’t an accident?

“Sure Danny!” Sam grinned. Without a second thought she walked inside.

“I’m good dude. I’d rather not be inside, and the thing click on.” Tucker didn’t look up from his PDA.

Maybe he should have tried to get Sam to dress in a Hazmat suit. The extra protection could have led her into a false sense of security which would allow for mistakes to occur. The Hazmat suit also could have acted as a disguise. Sam Manson, Amity Park’s most famous goth, would never have been caught dead in one of those.

“What are all of these wires for? What about all these buttons? Tuck you’re the tech guru, you should really come inside.” Sam called.

“Actually Sam, I think you should get out.” Tucker warned. Did Tucker suspect something? Danny had never even written his thoughts down in a journal let alone share them with anyone else! How could his best friend even know?

Why did he suddenly feel so guilty?

“Just a sec Tucker!” Sam called. Her hand grazed a large red button. Danny wanted to tell her to push it or to startle her and cause her to “accidentally” press it. Yet the words refused to come from out of him. Why did he feel so terrible for wanting to save the world? What was one life to billions? It wasn’t like she was actually going to die!

Why was his life more important than Sam’s?

“Hey Sam, I want a turn to see!” Danny found himself calling. He watched as she safely exited the portal. He grabbed the suit his father had made especially for him and put it on.

Sam grinned, ripping off the picture of his dad’s face that he insisted on putting on everything. “You aren’t going in with that on, are you?”

“I guess not.” Danny tried to smile.

“Nervous? Just think of all the cool worlds that this portal can connect to.” Sam grinned.

He nodded, hoping to disguise his dread as minor fear. He took a step in the portal and began walking towards the button that Jack and Maddie Fenton in their infinite wisdom had chosen to keep. Time seemed to slow the closer he got to it. He could hear his own heart beat and feel every breath he took. Once he was transformed, would he miss feeling of breathing?  There was no going back. If he chickened out now, Danny knew he would never build the courage to do this again. Then the world would be doomed.

Once he was close enough, Danny “tripped” and pressed the button. His walk of death couldn’t compare to the absolute freeze in time that occurred just after he pressed the button. The youngest Fenton swore he heard the phrase “All is as it should be…” before the light engulfed him into a world of agony.

He was glad that he didn’t force his best friends to experience it. His essence was ripped apart then sewn back together again. His heart raced before falling into a slow and steady rhythm. He was Danny Fenton, then he was nothing. He was human, until he wasn’t. Everything became dark.

He saw flashes of his life slip by and flashes of the future. He heard the screams of the dying and cries of those who were living for the first time. He felt sudden felt a weight that he had never known fall off of his shoulders. The freedom was only felt for a couple of seconds (or was it years?) before a much heavier weight was flung onto him.

He felt himself begin to walk. A light and a voice beckoned him forward. He felt something grabbing his leg, trying to keep him away. He knew he had to fight against it. If he stayed, then there would be no one to fight against his parents’ mistakes.

As he moved forward, the thing clutching his leg felt heavier and heavier. His steps became smaller and smaller. Maybe it was best if he stayed behind? Just as the it seemed that the thing would win, he broke free. He raced to the light, determined to not be trapped again.

“DANNY! DANNY!” Her heard a woman cry.

As he came closer, the light became a doorway. He smiled and stumbled across.

“Danny is that you?” Sam cried.

It worked?! Danny grinned. Everything would be fine now. Tomorrow there would be problems, but now there could be solutions. Ghosts would attack and he would be right there to stop them. The lack of sleep the previous night and the exhaustion of the portal claimed him. Danny fell into his last peaceful rest.

[hekate1308]

What’s To Come What Is Ahead, A Destiel Christmas Calendar, Chapter 11

Masterpost

AO3

After that second lunch together, it happened regularly – Sam simply started dragging Cas along with them, and Dean wished he could have said that he protested against it because it didn’t make any sense, because Cas might notice any second that no one else could see him, because there was nothing they could gain from it, but he never did.

Instead, he allowed himself to be swept away in the whirlwind that was getting to know someone else, and – dare he say it – courting someone in a laid back way (no, wait; it wasn’t called courting anymore, was it? Mortals had so many words they eventually stopped using. But then, he did as well – the accent he spoke to Sam and Cas was a very different one from the boy’s who had drowned).

The thing was, Cas was not only incredibly easy to get along with (and still very very easy on the eyes) but also funny, kind and charming, although he protested that he was none of those things (or, rather, had once told Dean that he believed people didn’t like him much. God, how wrong he was. He only had to walk into a room for all the women and a good portion of the men turning their heads to watch him).

“So” Crowley drawled sipping a glass of Craig, of course, “When may I congratulate you on your eminent nuptials? Mind, the wedding could be a bit awkward – the priest might have trouble understanding why he can only see one of the bridegrooms.”

“Crowley –“

“Your best man would be Sam of course, so luckily enough, they can put him and Cas into the looney bin together. I hear it’s better for them in the long run, to have someone they know with them –“

“Crowley –“

“Now, Cassie, he could probably be declared sane again in a year or two, lonely people invent imaginary boyfriends all the time, but Sam, that might take longer, with his entire family history consisting of a drunken father and an invisible brother –“

“Crowley!”

“I am just saying, Squirrel, you haven’t exactly thought this through, have you?”

“Yes I have” he said firmly, taking a huge gulp of his won drink, “And much longer and more intense than you have.”

“And your solution to the problem is?”

Dean was silent because of course, he knew the solution. He had known it for a while, long before Cas had shown up.

He should leave. Sam was a man of flesh and blood, mortal like them all, with a beating heart and rosy cheeks; he should be out there, making friends like himself, not being feathered to Dean. Dean had done what he had set out to do – Sam had graduated college, he had a good job, he was an adult now. He could fend for himself.

And Dean? Dean was a relict of the time when he’d needed someone to look after him. Yes, he should leave, allow him to live his life.

But how could he do that? Sammy was the closest he had been to having a home since he had died.

Crowley now looked at him with something that, if he had not been a demon, Dean would have called pity. “I’m not saying it’s easy, but you have to see reason.”

“Says the King of hell. Isn’t your whole business model built on people not doing that?”

“Exactly which is why I know it’s soi important. Dean – Sam is going to die one day, and if he continues to be the goody-two shoes that your careful upbringing made of him, he’ll go to Heaven,.”

He closed his eyes. “I know.”

“And from all you’ve told me about your new friend, he’s going there as well. And you –“

“I know” he snapped “I can’t.” He had tried, eventually. Once he had figured out his powers, he had tried and tried to get into Heaven, to demand an explanation, or maybe their mercy, but he had never even received an answer. “That’s why I want to stay” he admitted quietly. “I want to enjoy myself while I can.”

Crowell was still wearing that strange expression.” That’s what I mean when I say you’re still very human. They’re mortal. We’re not. We’re not like them.”

“I used to be, though.”

“A long time ago, my friend. A very long time.”

It was too true for Dean to protest, so he said nothing. It was better to say nothing. Otherwise, he might have pleaded that it didn’t feel like it, that he was still trying, after all these years, and really, Cas could see him, so why should no one else…

“Yes, well, you always know where to find me” Crowley said simply, emptying his glass. “Just let me know when you grow reasonable.”

He wished he could have hated him for it.

[amwritingmeta]

You don't think killing Dean the way they did was contradicting to his character arc and development?

Hello, lovely!

As the initial shock of watching Dean die is wearing off more with each passing day, I can tell you that no, I don’t think that killing Dean the way they did was contradicting to his character arc and development. 

Let me explain.

And let me be clear, I’m basing this on my hopes and wishes for the narrative, for Dean, and they, in turn, sprung up from my reading of the narrative. 

My reading has always, as all meta readings are, been wholly subjective, though I’ve striven to be objective, trying to base my reading in my understanding of narrative structure and possible production choices as much as possible. The initial shock after the finale came from how the delivery of Dean’s endgame stepped outside of what I wanted and had grown to expect in those weeks leading up to it, due to 15x18 and queer love suddenly being a stated part of the narrative. 

Letting go of the idea of a long and happy life for Dean with Cas as a human on Earth, because that was simply the framework my brain invented to give them a happily ever after, I’d like to take a look at some of the other hopes and wishes I’ve had for Dean, in no particular order:

Dismantling the toxic masculinity ideal

Non-performance

Open communication and honesty

Self-acceptance leading to self-worth leading to self-actualisation 

Integration

Clear sense of identity

Learning to let go of need for control

Learning to trust

Feeling deserving of happiness and embracing it

Ending the codependency 

Teamwork and sharing responsibility/not feeling it’s all on him

Admitting to himself that what he longs for is to love and be loved

Believing in deserving to have a future

The world balanced out (no more firewall)

Putting the past to rest

Letting go of Protect Sammy as predominant purpose

Letting go of fear

No more Butch and Sundance/blaze of glory ending

Now, the more I think about all of these things in relation to S15 in general and the final three episodes in particular, the more those finale three episodes make me feel nothing short of delight for our characters. (sorry but it’s true) (I feel the distress of our family and it’s just horrifying but oh I do feel we need to take a breath together and calm down)

Here’s what I see. And what I see may come off as dismissive of people’s frustration and anger and disgust with the finale, but it’s not meant to be. I’ve always read this narrative how I described above, knowing that it’s impossible not to be subjective, but striving for objectivity.

Striving for objectivity by looking at what’s come before, the threads I’ve seen them pulling on, the overarching themes that have been consistent for fifteen years, the character traits that have been explored and narratively stated over and over again, and basing my analysis in these narrative constants.

So first, let us ask ourselves: was Dean’s death foreshadowed in S15?

The simple answer is that yes, it was.

It was foreshadowed by Amara saying that she wanted to release Dean from his anger, it was foreshadowed by Billie asking if it wasn’t time for the sweet release of death, and it was foreshadowed by the heart symbology peppered throughout the entire season.

Had it been coming for a long time?

Well, yes, it had. There were only two ways that his arc could end: him living or him dying, right? He’s died a lot, which is why I thought it should end in him living, finally, but let’s look at what the narrative tells us living constitutes:

fear (of losing his brother and of what’s around the next bend), as Dean admits in 15x17: he’s always afraid

pain, because the pain of losing Cas will never go away

Has Dean decided to deal with that? Yes, he has. He’s decided, by 15x20, to accept the loss, to look to the future, to not give up, to keep on fighting. He’s not even self-destructively looking for a case to distract him: instead he brings Sam to a freaking pie festival. Yeah? Dean is living his life.

This means that we’re shown him as having let go of toxic masculinity because he’s wholly non-performing at the start of 15x20, he’s openly communicating and being honest about the pain he feels over losing Cas, but as opposed to Chuck’s version of the “perfect ending” which was always tragic, where Dean losing Cas meant that he saw no purpose to living or fighting anymore, Dean takes that pain and is able to handle it because?

Because of Cas. Because of Dean internalising Cas’ view of him. Because of Dean being shown in 15x19 to grieve Cas, to want Cas back, to go through the motions (getting drunk etc.), only for him to realise (and yes the execution is lacking but I’m going to go with the narrative we have for the sake of this reading) that Cas isn’t coming back. 

By the end of 15x19, Cas’ words have taken such hold that Dean not only eases up on control and is shown to confidently share the responsibility for de-powering Chuck by working as a well-oiled team machine with Jack and Sam - because he trusts them, he’s also symbolically allowed to fully integrate by refusing to kill Chuck, because his Shadow (toxic masculinity as passed along by John the Bad Father Figure) (John also has a good side but he had a very bad side, for sure) no longer holds any sway over Dean, and because of Cas’ words, because of Cas’ faith in him, through Cas’ love for all that Dean is, Dean is given the sense of self-worth needed to finally be able to move into self-acceptance, allowing him to self-actualise, to integrate.

Cas saved Dean’s life AND saved Dean from his crappy self-view. I mean. It’s kinda fucking remarkable that this reading is right there for the taking.

So here we have the narrative ticking boxes like JAYSUS, yeah?

Let’s look it:

Dismantling the toxic masculinity ideal

Non-performance

Open communication and honesty

Self-acceptance leading to self-worth leading to self-actualisation

Integration

Clear sense of identity

Learning to let go of need for control

Learning to trust

Feeling deserving of happiness and embracing it

Teamwork and sharing responsibility/not feeling it’s all on him

Believing in deserving to have a future

The world balanced out (no more firewall)

And this, all of it, is thanks to LOVE. 

Because this is a story about love and... love.

So Dean being able to integrate thanks to Cas’ love is, to me, all about Dean opening himself up to the fact that what he wants, truly wants, and has always wanted (and needed, for that matter) is to be loved for who he is, and to allow himself to feel that very same unconditional love for another.

In the act of letting go of needing Cas back to somehow validate that love or validate Dean actually truly being deserving of receiving and giving love, we get the unconditional aspect of it underlined. There’s no dependency anymore. No fear attached to the emotion. Just the love itself, untouched by death. The healthy side to that profound bond that’s always kind of tripped these two up before. I mean. I think it’s kind of breathtaking.

Also, I’ve been told there’s an application that we see on Dean’s desk for him to get a job as a mechanic, which seems to me an underlining that Dean is looking to the future and in so doing is shown to feel deserving of happiness and embracing it. Something that I feel is established at the beginning of the episode, even without this detail, but is brought into focus thanks to it.

Dean doesn’t want to die. He has no desire to die. The implication being that he’s trying to make the best of what he’s got and is completely honest with himself about what he wants. Not owning a bar, but working on cars. The good side of John getting a nod, or so I would say. Especially poignant in an episode so heavily focused on Good Father Figures. 

I haven’t seen the detail of this application for myself though, I just trust my sources. :)

Now we get to the meatier part of this reading: Dean and Sam.

What do we have left on the list of hopes and wishes of stuff to be addressed as pertaining to Dean?

We’ve got:

Ending the codependency 

Putting the past to rest

Letting go of Protect Sammy as predominant purpose

Letting go of fear

No more Butch and Sundance/blaze of glory ending

I wonder if you might already be seeing where I’m going with this, but for good measure, let’s discuss the death scene and what it narratively results in for Dean and for Sam.

Dean and Sam end up in that barn because they’re two men who will not stand for harm coming to innocent lives, especially when those innocent lives belong to two little kids. This is who they are at their core.

Dean is killed by a vampire wearing a mask. Yeah. Someday perhaps I’ll make proper sense of it. Point is: Dean is impaled on a rusty nail that imbeds itself in his heart and sort of holds him together until the moment of his passing, giving him time to ask his brother to stay (zero performance and only vulnerability) and tell Sam exactly what Sam has always meant to him.

Which, for Dean, is vulnerability on steroids. Honesty times one thousand. In your face true identity flares of beauty.

This scene is stunning. When I watched it the second time around last Saturday I was blown away. Jensen makes this scene what it is, because it is such an absolute mirror of Dean’s scene with Cas and the differences to Jensen’s acting choices are paramount to the emotional significance of either. (oh Misha was extremely paramount to the declaration of love, don’t get me wrong, but here we have Jensen pivotally impactful, since he’s in both)

And through this mirroring we have two major threads of this narrative on display and effectively highlighted and tied up: the familial vs the romantic.

Because this is a story about love and... love.

The thing that I’ve been turning over in my head a lot is the codependency aspect here. I’ve had issues with it. Could it only be broken by Dean’s death? 

And no, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here at all. 

This moment is absolutely about the codependency breaking. In part. But it’s also about Dean going out bittersweetly, suddenly, without any glory or blaze, and it’s a very human, very real, very grounding moment to me for his arc: he didn’t expect it to be today, but it is.

*i’m seriously cry*

And Sam’s grief is so raw. I wish Sam had gotten to break away on his own. I’ll always wish that for him. That he could’ve seen his worth as a leader and leaned on that and on his love for Eileen, but Sam’s arc was always, always dependent on Dean’s progression, and this is what Dean’s arc needed in his final moment: clarity, honesty, trust, faith, letting go. A voicing of the fear, of the past, of what got them here, of the dependency - it was always you... and me - and both of them choosing, in the moment, to recognise the finality of it.

The entire show has revolved around these two men’s absolute inability to let go of each other and the stupidity and recklessness this inability has resulted in. Choice after choice serving to bring about the near apocalypses they’ve kept finding themselves in.

And reflecting itself in that has been the dependency Dean has felt for Cas’ presence, his annoyance and worry and fear whenever Cas has disappeared, how Dean’s progression has stopped in its tracks whenever Cas has been removed from the narrative.

So for this scene of the familial love allowing a letting go of that dependency to reflect itself once more so beautifully in how the romantic love allowed for a letting go of that dependency is kind of. I don’t even know. Everything glitters?

Dean finding peace ultimately has everything to do with having met, known and fallen in love with and having been loved by this angel of his. 

But is that canon? 

I mean, it’s subtextual canon, which is good enough for me, because it was all I ever expected and it’s such a blatant statement through the couples in love losing each other leading into Dean and Cas losing each other that there’s just no doubt in my mind how we’re meant to be understanding what these two men mean to each other, and from that draw the conclusions of what it is that’s influencing Dean’s moment of integration.

Does Dean’s death make a statement that happiness and love can only be found in death?

No. It really does not. Because that’s not what the narrative message is. Because Sam finds love and happiness by living his life. And I sincerely disagree with Sam being depicted as being depressed his whole life (the way Dean was with Lisa) because he lost his brother. Sure, there could’ve been pictures of all the found family when Sam is on his death bed, but he’s also thinking about the brother he lost and that’s simply a visual establishing of this fact. Could there have been more? Sure! But that doesn’t mean that all Sam cares about was Dean for all his life, living it in grief and loss. 

Sam loves his son, helps his son, laughs with his son, is a good father figure to his son, and this thread is pulled on throughout the episode: the good father figure thread. 

Dean’s goodbye to Sam isn’t just a brother saying goodbye to a brother.

It’s a father bidding farewell to his child. It’s a father gently relieved to not have to watch his son die. To get to go first. And yes, sure, that’s sad, but it’s also very human and real and says so much about their relationship.

Dabb era has hit the father/parental thread so hard that the Good Father thread running through this episode makes perfect sense to me.

Dean goes to Heaven not to find Cas, not expecting Cas to be there, but finding Cas there all the same (reward for letting go and having faith that if he’s meant to, and why wouldn’t he be, then he’ll see Cas again *headcanon*), and more than that, learning that Cas has made Heaven what it is now, moved Heaven away from trapping souls in endless memory loops (which was benevolent enough, but completely missed the point of what it means to be human) and that now there’s discovery and exploration and more life to be lived, because Heaven is overflowing with free will, with choice, with all the possibility for longevity and happiness.

The eternity that Dean deserves. 

Created for him by Cas. 

Cas ensuring Dean’s death is not an ending, but a beginning. That it’s not a prison for Dean’s mind, but instead a homecoming, filled with the prospect of reconnecting with all the people Dean has ever cared about, ever loved.

I mean, the fact that Cas’ prevailing faith in Jack has enabled all this is like strobe lights for the fucking brain.

And the irony is that while I focused entirely on how Cas needed to be grounded and choose to live a human life on Earth, the narrative had other plans (okay yeah the writers) and instead brought Dean to Heaven, and immortality.

It takes away the final obstacles for giving these two a happily ever after.

It also reflects itself in how Mary, in Heaven, is “complete”. She’s with John. She’s at peace. She’s happy. And who have always been fairly strongly tied (through mixtapes and whatnot) to Mary and John Winchester? Yeah. 

Also, Cas the angel will never age and will never die, and him with human Dean, watching Dean grow old and die only to go visit Dean in his little Heaven always made me depressed. Human!Cas took care of that, but left the Heaven conundrum wide open. And now it’s just gloriously fixed. 

And, speaking of, Cas got to FIX HEAVEN. And he’s fixing it together with his son. All of that faith, all of that struggle, completely rewarded. And Cas building that Heaven in wait for Dean to arrive, because if Dean hadn’t died in that barn (take me back to the night we met...) Dean would’ve died at some point, and Cas can wait, he just wants to make sure there’s happiness waiting for Dean when he arrives. I’m sorry but OMFG. I’m just so happy for our Castiel!!

Could Dean not know happiness on Earth?

I think he was on his way. I think there would always be that pain and that fear, but he was ready to accept that and make the most of it and live his life. Only... his heart is missing, because his heart went away, and perhaps there’s this chance that he’ll find it again, because he always has before, but he doesn’t know, and he doesn't expect it, and that’s okay, he can wait, and then he’s brought to Heaven, and there it is, and he smiles that smile and Heaven is basically complete apart for one final piece.

Because of course Dean would wait for Sam. 

Now. I realise this is my reading of this narrative. No one needs to accept it as the begin all, end all reading. I’m only hoping that it will offer a counterweight to the absolute and utter negativity being bandied around as the only true begin all, end all, because I do not see it or believe that it’s all there is to this finale.

There’s beauty here. And discounting it, at least the possibility of it, even if it’s not exactly what I’ve laid out in this reply, because of frustration of not getting textual Destiel is not doing anyone any good. We got subtextual Destiel, we got subtextual bisexual Dean, and it’s confirmed. To my mind, it’s confirmed.

That’s everything I ever dared expect. And that expectation came solely from how clear the subtext has always been, how invested the writers have seemed in it, and the actors too. 

And Cas is canonically queer. 

Which is fucking amazing and truly enormous and I’ll talk very gently about why I don’t feel his death was a case of BYG in a separate post, but Cas is alive in the narrative as it’s been presented to us, and he’s in love with Dean and they get to be together in the Heaven Dean deserves, remodelled for Dean by Cas. If that’s not the beginning of a happily ever after, then I don’t know what is!

Thanks for asking, love. I’ve been meaning to write all this down and have spent the afternoon doing so. It’s quite cathartic!

xx

[inkdemonapologist]

Jack had a long day after session 10.... Sammy’s gonna let him sleep.

[batim call of cthulhu masterpost]

(and a bunch of out of context quotes under the cut!)

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] Despite last session being PRIMARILY planning, we do not actually have a plan!!!

[Joey] How quickly... can Joey Drew learn... a time control spell... so that we can try ONE of our plans, and if it doesn't work, we can just go back in time and-- [Sammy] Joey, don't-- don't start that, Joey. That's not going to end well. [Joey] IT WORKED BEFORE! [Sammy] YEAH, I KNOW, but I think it's a bad plan! You're gonna have, freakin, "This cartoon didn't do as well I wanted, let's back up! Let's back up, and see if we can make some small changes! BENDY MUST BE PERFECT!" [Joey] This is how Sillyvision actually comes about! [GM] Are you saying... are you saying you aren't comfortable with Joey Drew trying to loop time? [Sammy] YES! That is what I'm saying! I don't think that should happen, I think that will end poorly for those of us who have to participate in Time!

[Sammy] Sammy would not be against bringing it up, but if Jack's like "UH I don't even know if that's possible for me to do, I did it by accident" then he won't, like, push. [Joey] Joey's not going to push, but he's going to be very supportive that you can do anything you set your mind to!

[Jack] Sammy has guns! Just not those ones. [Sammy] Correct. Yes.

[Joey] Prophet did not seem affected by it, at all. [Sammy] *sarcastic laugh* Alright. Fantastic! [Joey] So, I guess I'm letting you know this, not just if you accidentally come across some paint, but if you find yourself having trouble dealing with things, you might be able to use that-- [Sammy] Sammy is GLARING. [Jack] Jack is also giving Joey a look at this! "If you're having trouble, just try drugging yourself!" That sure is, a coping mechanism!

[GM, speaking for Bendy] He does think the Prophet can be a little overzealous, but he's definitely good at getting stuff done! Maybe not the best stuff, but... stuff! [Sammy] Are you sure? He's been trying to sacrifice somebody to the Masked Messenger for like, a year, and it hasn't been working!

[Joey] He could've started trying to fall asleep on the drive over! [Jack] Yeah but then he's going to end up astral projecting on the road! Halfway there! Just watching his body drive away!

[Jack] He's technically gotten the information he was looking for, which is: there are still people in the building, not very many,... He also gained the information: more than Moonlight can see people who are astral projecting,... he gained: Pain, [Jack] All in all I think this was a successful trip!

[Sammy] I'm just so pleased that Sammy is foiling Moonlight all over the place, and generally being very obnoxiously in the way, and Sammy can't even come out that much. [Sammy] Like, he's only existed in his Prophet Form like three or four times! If he could be here as much as Moonlight is here, he would-- tHE MASKED MESSENGER WOULD BE HERE ALREADY. [GM] *laughs* The only thing holding him back. [Sammy] Yes. The only thing holding him back: sometimes he turns into a much more reasonable person.

[Sammy] (Sorry for being so enthusiastic about this, but I'm really enthusiastic about this.)

[Joey] Now that he has a description of the kinds of runes, does Joey know any way to disrupt it? [Henry] I know of a way to disrupt it. [Jack] Last time Henry tried to disrupt something he actually strengthened it, so, [Henry] Okay but this--! But-- okay, yeah, point taken.

[Henry] Basically what happened is, I smeared my blood on one of the symbols-- [Sammy] WHY

[Sammy] You could write "found this," or, if you have room-- [Joey] "We know how to get your family" [Sammy] Y-, mm, that sounds, a little bit ransom-note-y,

[Jack] "Place $1000 1 Slick Stone in an unmarked package under the third tree if you want to see your family again" [Sammy] I think you mean 75 dollars

[GM] Norman is picking through the room; he does find a freaky bone whistle thing, and a weird cold crystal, and some chalk, and a blooodyyyy knife??? Question mark??? [Joey] Well, might as well grab that, [Henry] Yeah, Henry wants that back! [GM] --and a jar with yellow paint in it-- [Joey] ...you can leave the jar with yellow paint in it. [Jack] But the Prophet wants that back!

[GM] He does pretty quickly go "Hey, I know this model!" and some tinkering noises ensue. [Joey] Okay, yeah, take that too! [GM] "I... I can't carry this," he says, "not without a handcart." [Joey] I mean, if he---.... wait, what. [Sammy] (Projector.) [Joey] OH I thought he found the gun. I forgot there was a projector in there. [Joey] Norman, focus!

[Sammy] If Joey would take it, go for it. [Joey] Joey is more interested in Moonlight's stuff than Fowler's stuff. He's trying to get Fowler on their side. [Jack] As a counterpoint, I, personally, as a player, am very curious!

[Henry] Moonlight and Sammy play duelling banjos at each other. [Sammy] That hasn't been written yet, they can't! [Henry] Moonlight and Sammy accidentally invent duelling banjos.

[Joey] Okay, Joey's going to continue to hide in the closet. [Henry] Didn't we say we were going to flicker the lights when we got up to this room? [Joey] Oh yeah. Joey said he was going to do that but he's... not going in there. [Henry] He's not out of the closet yet.

[GM] Norman got a very good mechanical roll and gets the set-up going quite promptly! [Joey] We should hire this guy!

[GM] No, it doesn't look like it helps Jack. [Sammy] No healing for Jack :( [Joey] No healing in Wonderland. (several players start yelling) [Sammy] And now we've discovered everyone in this group who has listened to The Adventure Zone!

[GM] Norman probably makes a joke about "Oh, so you do sleep!" [Joey] When we can. [Sammy] Not often. [Jack] *laughs* Animation, amiright? [Jack] Anyway, so do you wanna work for us?

[Jack] Jack's just getting all of the insanities. [Joey] I want some too! Stop hogging them!!!

[Sammy] So has this just all... come to you? [Henry] Some of it! [Sammy] *narrows eyes* [Henry] Some of it I know what I'm doing! I can use my blood in runes and stuff, but other stuff like blasting the angel, that just... happened. [Sammy] You're as bad as Joey. [Henry] (He looks a bit sheepish at that.) Honestly? I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get told off. [Sammy] Not sure I have the energy tonight. Let’s rain check on that.

[Sammy] *suspicious* Are you alright in there? [Bendy] Joey did somethin' dumb, but I think we're okay! [Joey] You didn't need to tell him that. [Bendy] Well, we are okay, right? Henry was doin' this yesterday and he's okay! [Sammy] ...what [Henry] What? [Joey] DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT! [Bendy] It's okay when it's just a little, right? [Sammy] WHAT ARE YOU DOING? [Joey] I found a cool rock... [Sammy] BENDY, WHAT IS HE DOING [Bendy] Washin' blood off his face! [Sammy] Hm. [Joey] (There's just the thunk of Joey letting his head hit the sink). [Sammy] Sammy has decided not to ask any more questions.

[Sammy] I love the idea that Prophet's like SO LASER-FOCUSED on his hatred of Doc Moonlight, that that's all that Sammy can remember. They're summoning an elder god's avatar in the background and all Sammy can remember is BOY, I HATE THAT GUY!

[Sammy] I think he's going to focus on trying to remember as much as he can, because Joey's gonna give him the Joey version, [GM] You can make another POW roll if he's trying to remember. [Sammy] Oh.... *starting to roll dice* I don't know if you should do this, Sammy... [Sammy] .....96. No. [Jack] He fumbled, [Joey] He fumbles and forgets more??? [GM] No, no, you remember the things you don't want t-- OKAY NOW YOU REMEMBER THE RITUAL!!! [Sammy] OH!! GREAT!!!

[Henry] *coming back online after the session is done* I have something important to share! I got home and got on as quickly as possible to share! [Sammy] Uh huh? [Henry] I realised that Norman should ABSOLUTELY be having out of body experiences too. Because I mean. HE IS THE PROJECTIONIST! [Joey and Jack] *start laUGHING HYSTERICALLY* [Sammy] Oh My Gosh

[Jack] I can't believe that Jack's next Astral Projection Dream is going on a date with Norman. Add to the boyfriend collection! [Sammy] When do I get to astral projection dream date Jack??? [Jack] You were busy astral projection dream dating Joey! [Sammy] Yeah, he looked nothing like his profile picture.

[stusbunker]

Brother Knows Best

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam Winchester/ Plus-sized!Reader

Written for: @lukn4inspo​ for my 800 follower Celebration

Word Count: 1679

Warnings: Floof, Dean playing wingman, self esteem issues

    It had been months since he had seen her in person, and the sight of her crawling out of her truck just to beam up at him with her gorgeous smile hit Sam straight in the chest. 

    “How was the trip?” he asked once he shook the cobwebs out of his thoughts.

    “Not bad, yours?” She shrugged just before she snuck her arms under his for a quick hug. Sam held on a little longer than she seemed to, enjoying the way her plush body pressed to his.

    “The usual, straight through with a lot of Zeppelin,” Sam replied.

    “At least you got to sleep?” She offered, optimistic as she rounded the rear of her vehicle to grab her bags. Sam caught up quickly and took what could only be her weapons from her, it was so heavy.

    “Uh, just listened to a podcast actually,” Sam said, almost as an afterthought.

    “Nice! I just caught up on mine on the way. What are you into these days?” She tossed her bag over her shoulder and listened intently as he rattled off the ones he had checked out. When he got to the ones he listened to regularly she beat him to the punch, listing three out of the four right along with him.

    “You like true crime, how did I not know that?” Sam chuckled.

    “Am I into True Crime?! Boy, I practically only do cases where I can get a peek at some serial killer paraphernalia, if not the actual crime scenes,” she balked.

    ��Ever been to the Lizzie Borden house?” Sam kept going.

    Dean watched them from the doorway of the motel room, shaking his head. 

     Dean glared at Sam across the booth, his brother’s eyes had gone glassy as he watched her hips as she rushed out of the diner and back to surveillance detail. This was going to be a long one, Dean thought to himself as he slurped his coffee loud enough to draw Sam out of his little revelry.

    “Really?” Sam’s face pinched in annoyance.

    “You should go with her, see if you find anything,” Dean suggested over the rim of his mug.

    “What? Come on, man, she’ll be fine,” Sam looked at Dean like he was crazy.

    “Oh I’m sure she is, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go, eh?” Dean waggled his eyebrows.

    “Stop. It’s not like that,” Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his egg white omelette.

    Dean chuckled and started counting off reasons with his fingers. “She’s cute. She’s single. She listens to the same creepy ass podcasts you listen to. And she called you about the case.”

    “Just, stop, okay? Sure, she’s great, but it’s just a case,” Sam shrugged. “It doesn’t mean she’s interested in me like that.”

    “Aren’t you? Interested in her?” Dean pressed, head cocked knowingly.

    Sam bit his lip and set down his cup for a refill from the waitress. The table fell quiet as they said their thanks and returned to their meals. 

    Was he? Sam didn’t usually allow himself the novelty of romance. He’d been through too much. He’d lost too many people to think it was in the cards for him. Hunters don’t get happily-ever-afters. Sure, she was smart and resourceful. And Sam did get warm in the cheeks whenever she smiled. Sam introspected until Dean dropped his silverware and blinked at Sam with slow disbelief. 

    “Once this is over, you’re asking her out or I’m doing it for you,” Dean spat out under narrowed eyes.

    Sam rolled his eyes again. “Fine. I’ll talk to her. Okay? Geez.”

    Dean grinned and patted Sam on the shoulder. “That’s more like it, Sammy.”

    Sam stood awkwardly at the edge of the booth, Dean refused to slide in another inch.

    “Hey, Y/N, would you mind scooting in for Sam? I want to keep this leg elevated,” Dean asked, playing the injury card. They had wrapped up the vengeful spirit and had gone for drinks to celebrate an early night off the job. 

    “Sure? Actually, why don’t I,---” she stood and eased out off the bench seat, brushing against Sam as he moved to take her place. “If that’s cool? I just wanted to grab the first round, since you guys drove in for the assist.”

    Sam swallowed as she looked up at him, eyes playful and full of gratitude. 

“That’d be great, thanks.” Sam awkwardly patted her shoulder before he dropped onto the old vinyl seat. 

    Dean waited until she was out of earshot. “Have you ever spoken to a woman before? Did I just invent every person you’ve ever slept with? Because what the hell was that?!”

    Sam flinched and eyed Dean in annoyance. “Shut up. She was--- it was--- I was just really close to her,” Sam trailed off. “Anyway, you can shut up about your knee, you’re fine. You drove here fast enough.”

    Dean shrugged. “Well, I’m not as young as I used to be, Sammy. And neither are you, so pace yourself, alright?” Dean nodded, tapping his temple and gesturing to Sam’s junk.

“You are disgusting.” Sam pointlessly looked to the heavens for help.

    She quickly returned with a round of shots in her hands and three beers clutched to one breast. Sam tried not to oggle as she leaned down to disburse the drinks, but her tank top was askew from her efforts. Dean chuckled and drummed on the table.

    “That’s what I’m talking about! Bottoms up!” Dean toasted her and polished off his shot.

    Sam stilled as she rested her hand behind his back and leaned in. “You gonna let me in or do I have to pay a toll?”

    “Oh, sorry, here,” Sam slid to the farthest reaches of the bench, retreating from the welcoming give of her body as it brushed against his shoulder. He didn’t catch her look of confusion.

    “Let’s go, you two, gotta keep up!” Dean pushed their shots closer.

    They drank and talked, laughter and stories flowed freely long into the night. Sam kept to beer, mainly because Dean had blatantly stolen his shots. She trailed off after the third round, bringing them water and beer instead.

    “So, where to next, champ?” Dean asked her, fingering through the bottom of a bowl of popcorn.

    “Who knows, not gonna start looking until check out time tomorrow,” she answered, playing with the straw in her glass, and followed up asking pointedly of Sam. “You guys heading back to your fortress of duo-tude first thing?”

    He chuckled at her jab and nodded, sighing. “Yeah, as long as nothing pops up between here and there.”

    Sam glanced at Dean and Dean’s eyes dropped to the table, assessing the graveyard before them. “You know what, why don’t I just clear these out of the way. Don’t need to give the staff more to---,” Dean’s voice dropped to a mutter as he rather obviously left Sam alone with the girl.

    “Glad to see his leg is better,” she murmured, a smile dancing around the tip of her straw.

    “Yeah, it was just hollow, needed his hunter fuel to fill it back up,” Sam agreed, dimples on full display. Sam poked the side of his cheek with his tongue, considering if he should keep talking. “You know, I told him I would talk to you after the case. He threatened to ask you out for me if I didn’t.”

    “Damn, big brother goes that hard to get you some, huh?” She laughed, but the nervousness was palpable.

    “I guess,” Sam huffed, feeling the conversation was balancing on the edge of a knife.

    “Well, it’s a good thing you talked to me then, cleared the air. Don’t have to worry about Dean butting in anymore,” she nodded, swallowing. She wouldn’t look at Sam, his stomach dropped.

    “Hey.” Sam spun to face her completely, his knee bent at an awkward angle in the narrow booth. “Want to get out of here?”

    “You’re serious?” She balked. “I thought that was your way of letting me down gently.”

    Sam’s face twisted in concern and he shook his head. Before he realized it he was leaning towards her, her face still a mask of skepticism. The telltale rumble of the impala’s engine revved in the parking lot, which Dean hardly ever did. Sam closed his eyes and shook his head.

    “And apparently my brother is as tactless as ever.” Sam sighed. “Mind taking me back to the motel? I mean, unless you wanted to---?”

    She looked defeated. “Sam, are you sure this isn’t Dean tricking you into being stuck with me? Like a joke he’ll use against you in the future?” Her doubt tore through him; she’d been hurt before, more than he’d realized.

    Sam dropped a hand to her thigh. “What? No, Dean even said you were cute. He’s just a little too---enthusiastic, sometimes.”

    He waited for her to believe him, nervous for an entirely different reason than he had been all night. She put her hand on his, squeezing as she looked into his eyes. Sam saw a deep pool of emotion and he couldn’t help but lurch forward and give her the only true reassurance he could. His lips met hers in an earnest kiss. Sam forgot to be scared and worked to be honest. To prove to her that she was who he wanted. 

That this was real.

    She quickly caught up, mouth opening to accept his graces. When she pulled away gasping, Sam couldn’t help but grin. She rested her temple against his cheek as their fingers intertwined on her lap. 

   “Okay, okay, twist my arm why don’t ya?” she teased.

    “I mean, you are basically rescuing me from walking back,” Sam reasoned. “My hero.”

    “Wow, you really are gonna lay it on thick now, aren’t you?” She blushed and shook her head, giving him a playful kiss.

    “Pretty thick, yeah.” Sam bit his lips, but couldn’t stop himself from continuing. “But mostly long.”

     She gave him an impressed cocked eyebrow.

    “Hey, Sam?” She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “wanna get out of here?”

Prompt #8 of 8

Sam and plus size reader where he’s smitten?

Tagging:

@flamencodiva​​ @dolphincliffs​​ @dontshootmespence​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​​  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler​​ @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @awesomesusiebstuff​

[evren-d]

Ok, just finished season 4 in my re-watch, and THIS is how I want this shit to pick up in season five, after everything Sam's selfish arrogance put Dean through in season 4, and Bobby trying to reinforce in Dean that family is supposed to make you miserable and mistreat you. (I cannot BELIEVE what Bobby said to Dean, with everything he knows about his life). Anyway, Dean, “Bobby, enjoy letting Sam make you miserable, if you really think that’s what family is, but he almost killed me on his way to starting the apocalypse. Sam, you have Bobby, you'll be fine. I'm leaving. Because I don't deserve to die saving Sam from his own choices.” Cas just invented free will and is clearly sticking around for Dean.

Down the road, conveniently ignoring all the angel drama of season 5, none of that matters, Dean has been Sam-free 1.5 years, Cas makes a move, asks Dean one day why they don’t touch. “Dean, I’ve been watching other partners. Other teammates. What qualifications do we need for appropriate touching?” Dean, “…*dial up noises*… Don’t call it ‘appropriate touching” okay?” They break it down, Dean goes out of town for two days and leaves John’s Journal with Cas. When he gets back, they talk about everything.

When Sam ever does reach out with explanations and reassurances that he’s clean, Dean says, “Good for you, I’m really happy to hear that, Sammy. Hope you stay well,” and doesn’t tell Sam where he is.

When Dean maybe ever does meet Sam somewhere, he has Cas with him, and Sam scoffs and laughs and Dean and Cas walk out.

They don’t answer the next time Sam calls.

That scene at a diner,

Sam said something dismissive, Dean did the smile laugh, empty smile, empty smile, glance at Cas. Reflexively laughs it off. And Cas is just staring at Sam , looks at Dean for a second, hones back in on Sam, staring until Sam has to awkwardly laugh, “Sooo,” and move on.

Sam realizes Dean didn’t want to come alone, that Dean must have been working with Cas during their separation, and is pissed because he knows he can’t emotionally pummel Dean with Cas there, “Wait, are you kidding me? Did you bring an -angel- to help you face your brother? Don’t you think that’s a little, I don’t know, pathetic?”

Cas, “I’d be careful introducing words like ‘pathetic’ into this particular conversation. Don’t forget why you had to call us to get us here.”

Sam, scoffs, “Us?”

Dean looks at Cas and sees two years’ worth of growth and self-possession, hard earned peace, carefully built trust, free of obligation, blackmail, and guilt, all this and more painted across the angel’s face. A future. A life worth living. Dean looks back to Sam, “We’re working on something, yeah.” Dean gestures at Cas with his thumb and then to himself. “Him and me.” Cas watches Dean’s movement and then settles his eyes back on Sam.

Sam, confused, shifts in his seat, “Well, this isn’t really what I had planned to talk about, but, like, together?”

Dean gives a tight laugh stretched his neck to one side, then the other, tense, “Yes, Sam, yes, jeez, a lot has changed for me, what do you want me to say? He’s staying, let’s get this show on the road.”

Sam holds a finger up in the air, licks his lips “Okay, you’re gonna have to run that by me again. Our whole lives, I have only -ever- seen you with chicks. Now all of a sudden, you lose me, and you latch onto the closest guy standing? Who happens to be some random angel? How can you trust him?”

Dean thought of Sam making similar comments about Dean’s quick found friendship with Gordon after John died. Dean did rely on men to fill the empty spaces in his life, he knew that. You can’t just fill that hole with whoever you want to, Dean! It’s an insult to his memory.

Dean, “Sam, I did not lose you, okay? This thing with Cas has nothing to do you with you, and everything to do with me, man. It’s not up for friggin debate. What did you want to say when you called us.”

Sam irks at ‘called us’, “I want to talk alone, Dean.”

Dean purses his lips and shakes his head a little, “Give me one good reason, why I should do -any- of this, on your terms.”

Sam, “Because I’m your brother, and - ”

Dean laughs, his face sour, a hand absentmindedly lifts to massage his throat where Sam had choked him that night in the hotel room, the burning in Dean’s chest driving home the words that reached him over his own gasping, you don’t know me. You never did, and you never will. “Sam, that’s not gonna work. I’m gonna need more from you. Okay, I am done filling in the blanks and taking what I can get with you, I’m gonna need - “

Sam lifts a hand in Dean’s face, “No, hold up, Dean - I can’t believe this!”

Dean leans back in his chair and sighs, Sam looks incredulously from Dean to Cas and back. “You really won’t talk to me, is that it? After everything? After – “

Dean gets up, pushes Cas gently on his shoulder, urging him to stand. He squares off on Sam and looks him in the eye, his face morose, “No, I won’t, not like this. Come on Cas, we gotta… I gotta go. Bye, Sammy. I’m sorry, I just can’t”

Sam, “Dean are you joking? I drove five hours; you owe me a conversation. A -private- conversation.”

Dean, coat over his arm, Cas standing close at his shoulder, looking down at Sam still sitting, “No, I don’t. Never again, Sam. Stay healthy.”

Sam, “Fheba nfielna elcnepadm, Lipstick! Lipstick! In my valentino white bag?!”

And one day, Dean hears that, on a hunt, Sam fell on a rusty nail, let out a musty wail, and died. Dean would have to process that, but he knows that it’s not on him. Sam could have quit hunting if he wanted to. In fact, Dean learns that it wasn’t even a hunt. Sam had quit hunting, he just tripped in his own barn. ☹

[cheshirelibrary]

Looking for a new audio drama to spice up your workout or daily commute? Book lover-approved fiction podcasts are just what you need to add something novel to your culture intake this year.

The Bite by Heroic Collective. From Little Threats author Emily Schultz and filmmaker Brian Joseph Davis comes a horror-comedy podcast about Tess—a messy, bisexual playwright and lycanthrope who strikes up an unlikely friendship with a group of wealthy, Long Island-dwelling werewolves.

The Bright Sessions by Atypical Artists.  A sci-fi podcast from The Infinite Noise author Lauren Shippen, The Bright Sessions follows a group of super-powered patients through one-on-one sessions with their shared therapist, Dr. Bright. 

Kaleidotrope by Kaleidotrope Podcast. Set on the grounds of the fictional Sidlesmith College, Kaleidotrope takes the form of an on-campus radio show. Co-hosts Drew and Harrison take on the pervasive rumor that Sidlesmith students can find love through their favorite fanfiction tropes, investigating the campus’s funny and tender romances.

The Oyster by The Paragon Collective. The Oyster takes place in a near-future world where climate change has pushed humanity into an underground bunker called New Eden. The series follows Hannah, a government agent who interviews New Eden’s residents, compiling information that will ease the transition back to above-ground living. But when an unexpected hiccup splits survivors in new and fantastical ways, Hannah’s job becomes much more complicated.

Wooden Overcoats by Wooden Overcoats Ltd. When a rival undertaker rolls into town, twins Rudyard and Antigone Funn must find new ways to dig up some business in this historical-comedy podcast set on the Channel Islands. Wooden Overcoats will end with its upcoming fourth season, so now’s the perfect time to start listening.

Solve by Solve HQ. If you’re a true-crime fan, you’ll love Solve. This inventive podcast puts listeners in charge of its weekly murder investigations, offering its audience a chance to play detective.

The Truth by Jonathan Mitchell. Featuring sumptuous sound design and a cast of professional actors, The Truth delivers digestible works of short fiction on a biweekly basis. Directed by creator Jonathan Mitchell, this podcast is perfect for any book lover who doesn’t have the time — or the energy — to keep up with a running series.

Welcome to Night Vale by Night Vale Presents.  The granddaddy of fiction podcasts, Welcome to Night Vale is a must-listen for anyone who enjoys slightly off-kilter entertainment. Through radio broadcasts from Night Vale native Cecil, the series introduces listeners to the town’s various inhabitants and curiosities. Tune in to find out how to interact with the dog park, and why surviving the local library’s summer reading program is a feat.

King Falls AM by The Make Believe Picture Company. If you already love Welcome to Night Vale, you owe it to yourself to check out King Falls FM. Set in the isolated, eponymous town, the series centers on AM radio co-hosts Sammy and Ben as they field calls from residents concerned by the strange phenomena in the surrounding area.

...

Click through to see more podcasts.

[trashboatdax]

King Falls AM was one of my favorite podcasts of all time. There's a lot of ways I still think it's very good! There's still a lot to enjoy about it. There's ways the show can improve.

However.

I am very uncomfortable with the way that the KFAM creators seem bent lately on doing some of the absolute worst things they could do while running a podcast.

1. Blaming WTNV and other podcasts for "copying them" (Yes I saw Cecil's post and I firmly believe he was talking tounge-in-cheek, they just seemed to think it was a) directed at them b) took it way too personally) Also, you're not the only ones allowed to do a musical episode, guys

2. Making false accusations of DEATH THREATS (like Jesus you guys come on)

3. Refusing to listen to criticism to the point of blocking/unfollowing accounts, steering clear of Tumblr entirely

4. The huge hiatuses. I mean, obviously due to the pandemic I think they're well within their rights to take a while. But even before this hit, their hiatuses last for 8 months-1 year at a time. When you're dealing with a plot that has remained unresolved since the start of the show (and involves queer characters suffering while your straight characters plot is resolved, more on that below) that's not a great time frame, especially compared to other podcasts - which you guys love to do in every way but this one.

5. The uncomfortable racism/sexism/homophobia that they just cannot seem to acknowledge or change. Skinwalkers and non-native VAs voicing native characters is offensive. Having a "Racist Witch" character feels like it's just an excuse to say racist stuff on air and have people get mad because "you can't say that!" Treating all of their female characters as either sweet and kind 100% of the time (Emily) or constantly complaining and being a pain (Lily) to show the "difference" between them. It really feels like they're trying to make one look a lot "better" than the other, and having the lesbian be the "unpleasant" one isn't a great look.

And now we get to a bunch of mishandling when it comes to queer representation. Sammy is a queer main character, but it took them literally 60+ episodes to get them to acknowledge that at all. Archie and Ron were the other queer characters, and I'll be honest here, Archie's character has always made me super uncomfortable? He's literally a complete stereotype in a way that makes me feel he was invented just for the purpose of being a gay stereotype. And while I feel Ron is a better character, he's the stereotype on the other end of the coin, the "manly gay". It feels like they really wanted to have it both ways, and both aren't a good look. Also, I have never liked Jacob Williams as a character because the "depraved bisexual" stereotype is OLD and not at all accurate. Having a hillbilly pervert isn't the source of comedy they seem to think it is.

Not to mention how this show really seems to be advancing the plot when it comes to all the straight characters and not when it comes to the gay ones? Ben and Emily's plot lasted from Episode 2 to Episode 75 with barely a gap. It took up most of the space in the show. It is literally Episode 100 and we have had to wait through 2 hiatuses without any kind of progress in reuniting Jack with Sammy and Lily. It feels like they're using Jack as their method for drama after Ben and Emily finally got their shit together, and now they're going to drag that out as long as humanly possible so they don't have to actually write what happens once he's finally been rescued. Lily's pain at losing her brother is treated as very insignificant, like she's just being a bitch for no reason. Even Sammy is allowed to be as petty as he wants, but she's treated terribly for doing the same thing. Like a lot of other people have said, I'm really scared that it's literally not going to be until the finale or it's going to wind up with one of the gay characters dead. I'm going to be very upset and angry if that happens.

Also in the vein of Sammy, it seems like they give all the credit to Ben for making it so they can all be a family and know what it is to love, like Sammy and Lily's past with Jack just never existed?? Families who have a falling out don't just forget what that kind of thing meant, guys, and they don’t need a straight person who really didn't do much of anything to get the credit for that!

Last thing because it's something that bothers me personally and I know others have disagreed on this: as a non-binary person, it's nice that they tried to include the "and non-binary pals" line, but it would be really nice if they could, y'know, actually have a NB character on the show? It feels like they're trying to get points for something they're not actually doing.

So that's most of everything that's been bothering me. The creator's actions when it comes to all of this make me worried for the future of the show, and how they're actually going to continue once they get around to it. I'm worried it's going to be a lot of excuses and taking potshots at the fans and basically sidestepping everything in the name of "being positive" and I'll be really upset if that happens. Your fans are why the show got big, and while creators really don't owe the fans anything, if you're trying to use the backs of queer fans to advance your show, you at least owe it to them to listen if they say you're stepping on them too hard.

[barnesandco]

The Bartender

Drabble

Samtember 2020 Masterlist

Sam's cover is blown while on a mission in South Africa.

Samtember Prompt #4: Undercover

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Some fighting, mentions of guns and knives.

A/N: These drabbles are getting progressively more nonsensical and I love them and Sammy so much akdjaksk.

Also, go check out @samwilsonfest​ for the prompts list and rules to celebrate Sam Wilson this month.

He's been made. Sam's sure of it. It's 1 AM and he's trying not to breathe through his nose for the stench of the dive bar he's staking out in a forgotten corner of Cape Town, and he knows his cover has been blown. How, he has no clue, considering the photostatic veil disguising him to be not-Captain-America. All he knows is that the bartender is on to him. And maybe even into him, judging by the half-lidded glances and more-than-friendly smiles she's been throwing his way.

Sometime over the course of the night, that behavior became guarded, a subtle shift in her expression. She catches her eye for the third time in fifteen minutes, flirty smile underlined by heavy suspicion, and Sam knows he'll have to take care of her somehow. The stakes are too high to let her slip, to botch the whole operation and let this alien tech exchange get away. Not to mention the fact that Barnes -- perched on a rooftop by the docks -- would never let him hear the end of it.

So he waits. Watches from his high-top table, as the woman serves people who are getting increasingly drunk as the night wears on, and then, when exhaustion begins to weigh on his eyelids, the clock strikes two, and she dries her hands on her aprons. Her shift has ended.

Putting down his tumbler of beer, the one he's been nursing slowly all night, he leaves through the main entrance, and begins to make his way to the backlot utilized by employees. In the alley between the street and the backlot -- gray and grimy and still wet from the day's rain -- the air is cool, and holding its breath, and he pulls out his gun from under his waistband. He's about to round the corner when a blur of force tackles him and disarms him before he can fire a shot. They tussle in the muddy asphalt for several minutes, rolling and turning, color and mass and pressure, until Sam finds himself straddling the bartender, her wrists pinned down by his hands, and the knife she was holding falling limply to the side.

"Back up's on the way," she hisses through her teeth. "The gig is up, big guy. You'll never see that alien tech of yours."

Sam leans back. "Wait, what? You think I'm the buyer?"

"You tryin' to tell me you aren't? 'Cause I don't-- believe you--" she says, struggling against Sam's hands, but he has a secure grip. "I recognize a photostatic veil when I see one. I invented the damn things, so give up the innocent act."

Sam exhales slowly, and lifts one hand to press the small button hidden at his temple. The veil contracts and recedes, until--

"Captain Wilson?" Her eyes widen, shining irises startled.

At her exclamation, Sam lets her go. Gets to his feet and offers her a hand, before asking, "You gonna tell me who you are, now?"

"INTERPOL," she answers by way of introduction, and shows him the badge for proof. "I was assigned the same mission as you, it seems. Wait for both parties to meet up and follow them to the goods before apprehending them."

"Unbelievable," Sam huffs, dusting down his jeans, to little use. "There are too many intelligence agencies."

"Sorry, Cap," she says, not looking the least bit apologetic. "How about I make it up to you with a drink? Once we catch these guys, that is."

Looking up from his torn up knuckles, he grins to see that she's checking him out without the veil as much as she did when he was in it. He's about to answer when a Jeep -- old and bruised enough to blend in if it wasn't so damn clean -- pulls up in the street, and they creep forward to look into the road. The dealer steps out and enters the bar. Sam looks at the bartender, no, the INTERPOL agent, and tells her, "Make it dinner and I'll call it even."

Her responding smile, wolfish and battle-ready, is the last he sees of her gorgeous face before heading inside, while she begins talking to a com in her ear, pulls out a gun, and begins her wait.