#sam was secure enough to express his desire to leave

[shallowseeker]

"If Dean is like Mary, then why does Mary have goals similar to Sam?"

Because you're like both your parents. Duh. But also...

Mary wants to be safe, but one critical difference between her and Dean is that she feels like getting out is possible. Dean doesn't.

She can't stand the hunting life, because she recognizes the incredible losses that happen in and around her family because of it. She wants safety and security.

Even though their vocation is horrific and inherently unstable, her parents are present, have routines, and even have family dinners together. From what we can see, Mary's home life is more stable than Dean's. (Plus, Samuel Campbell was part of a network and a pro; John was isolated and in over his head.)

Dean and Deanna could at first glance seem controlling, but John Winchester was an incredibly brutal and unpredictable parent. (And for Sam, Dean, even as a child, made up for some deficits in John's parenting.) So, although Mary and Dean are similar in terms of their base personalities, their foundations for expressing their needs are not.

Mary, like Sam, feels secure enough to express her desires. Dean isn't secure enough to even get to want them.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

octavinelle’s “happy endings”

***SPOILER WARNING: This post will go into detail about the dreams Azul, Jade, and Floyd experience in the book 7 part 10 update.***

OKAY, so there’s a debate in the TWST fandom about whether or not Azul and the twins consider each other “real” friends or just business partners. I’ve shared my own thoughts on this topic in the past (which you can read here!). After the most recent main story update, it’s now more clear to me than ever that they do treasure each other even if they don’t express that in traditional ways.

Let’s discuss them in order that they appear in book 7 part 10!! I know there’s some vagueness surrounding how much of the dream is Malleus actively controlling the scenarios (hence the limited and shallow scope of them) and how much the dreams actively pull from the innate desires of the dreamer, but for the sake of the argument let’s assume the latter is more influential in shaping and structure of the dreams.

First up, Floyd!

So Floyd is known as the “I do what I want when I feel like it” guy. He hates two main things: 1) being told what to do/having his freedom restrained and 2) being bored. To ensure that Floyd is happy, the dream consistently shifts to locations so he vanishes explore and experience new things.

What you might notice is that Azul and Jade aren’t around in Floyd’s dream. This doesn’t mean they don’t exist or that Floyd doesn’t know who they are though. When asked, Floyd replies that Azul is simply doing his own thing (focusing on his business ventures/schemes) and Jade is there supporting him, thus leaving Floyd to his own devices. The fact that Jade and Azul are still present in Floyd’s dream, just not in an immediate capacity, makes complete sense.

In the waking world, Floyd loves to stir up trouble with his brother and Azul. The thing is, Floyd also dislikes it when they tell him off, order him to do something he’s not in the mood for, or punish him for acting out. Yes, Jade for the most part enables Floyd to misbehave, and yes, Azul has largely learned by now that it’s best to sit back and let Floyd fuck off/finish throwing a tantrum rather than intervene. However, there are still times when they order Floyd around or get upset with him. For example, Azul scolds Floyd for damaging the vault where they keep the contracts in book 3 and for not selling the drinks he’s supposed to in book 5. We see numerous examples across vignettes as well: Jade forces Floyd to stand in line at a famous patisserie for Trey as penance for eating special fruits meant for a VIP client (Trey Labwear vignettes), Azul and Jade wring Floyd for his eel slime (Azul Ceremonial Robes vignettes), Azul orders Floyd to secure the rights to Sam’s Mystery Drink even though Floyd shows a clear disinterest in the task (Floyd Dorm Uniform vignettes), etc.

In spite of these grievances, Floyd doesn’t entirely despise Jade and Azul, nor would he be happier without them. They’re an important part of his life, hence why they still linger in the dream, just in the periphery where they can’t butt in with whatever Floyd wants to do. Jade and Azul aren’t present and compliant since that, too, would quickly bore Floyd. He loves those two goobers in part because they’re chaotic and unpredictable, not because they’re yes men to his every action. The dream might not be able to keep up with that demand; it only seems to operate in extremes rather than conjure enough nuance to keep Floyd stimulated and content. This is why all the places Floyd already visited bored him; he got showered with too many conveniences and eventually got fed up with it all.

If you need even more damning evidence, all previous dreams would manifest someone closely tied to the dreamer in an attempt to keep them in the dreamscape. Who does Floyd’s dream summon? AZUL AND JADE. If Floyd genuinely found them annoying or didn’t want them near, the surely the dream would spawn other people. BUT NO, it specifically spawned THOSE TWO in an effort to convince Floyd. It can be argued that they could very well be a source of hatred since Kalim and Neige showed up for Jamil and Vil respectively, but I genuinely think Floyd doesn’t feel that degree of negativity toward Jade and Azul; the kind of hatred that Jamil and Vil have for their respective counterparts has never been expressed by Floyd toward Jade or Azul.

Floyd reacts to dream!Jade and Azul in a manner that’s very different from the dreamers that came before him… with anger. And a LOT of anger too. He immediately clocks them as phonies and, he, fully waking, demands to know who the fakes are, because they certainly aren’t Jade and Azul. Floyd points out their faces and voices may resemble theirs, but they’re acting in a way that they never would (suggesting a “boring” way of living). That pisses him off to the point where he cuts the fakes down all by himself. Brutal violence aside, this tells us a lot about Floyd... as well as Malleus.

We see that Floyd has become lethargic and bored despite the dream's attempts to sate him, which just demonstrates that Malleus, whose magic has a hand in crafting these realities, has a shallow understanding of what makes people happy. (Edit: to be clear, Malleus having a “shallow understanding” of happiness is not a personal take; this is a direct statement made by Idia in-game and this is where I am pulling my phrasing from.) He thinks that removing all obstacles and challenge to what you want is what leads to a happy ending when, in truth, it clearly isn't the case for Floyd, who craves stimulation and change. While Malleus is motivated outright controlling the details of Floyd’s dream down to the wire, his autonomous magic has decided to get rid of any challenges Floyd may face in his pursuit of happiness. (I would continue about the Malleus portion, but since this post is about the Octatrio, I will instead direct you to this post, which shares many of my own thoughts ^^) I think that's why Floyd truly "woke" when he was faced with dream!Azul and Jade; a part of him recognizes how wrong it is for the two people he chose to spend his time with because they're so fun are now turning around and preaching complacency. It tells us just how well Floyd knows those two and values their... unique perspectives, shall we say?

Next, just Jade!

What's immediately fascinating about Jade's dream is that it's also underwater, despite Floyd and co. suspecting it would be on land/in the mountains. Floyd even changes from his merform to his human form prior to hopping to Jade's dream because he was under the impression that it would be on land. This ends up not being the case, although Malleus's magic does manifest the underwater equivalent of "mountains", which are volcanic vents at the bottom of the sea.

We see Jade happily exploring alongside a dream!Azul and dream!Floyd, who are both very different than the real ones. Dream!Azul has big, watery eyes and is much more of a coward and crybaby than the real Azul is. He also seems to be very dependent on Jade, who derives great joy from watching dream!Azul flail about while trying to attain his goals (in this case, access to a gold vein). This is in-character with what we already know about Jade; he amuses himself by watching others struggle--especially Azul, whom Jade frequently teases, such as tricking him to dance as a mummy in the first Halloween event and comparing Azul's greedy attitude to the positive traits of other dorm leaders. Jade also prefers to have control over the circumstances, so he likes it when people defer to his word or advice. So what better to hand him than an Azul that listens to his every word and also provides entertainment value in his tears?

As for dream!Floyd, he presents with a very goofy face and seems to lack his usual aggression and flippancy. Instead, he has a fixation on eating other sea life around him (crabs, shrimp, etc.) and happily goes along with Jade's mountain exploration. Like dream!Azul, dream!Floyd acts dependent on Jade to guide him and even acts cowardly in a fight. Now we can sort of get a glimpse of how Jade feels about Floyd too. Dream!Floyd's pliant and agreeable nature may come in part from the dream seeking to provide Jade with more free entertainment, but it could also be that Jade wants Floyd to share in his interests. But here Floyd is not gung-ho about mountains; instead, he acts very innocently, almost like a kid going along with whatever his parents decide to do for the day. It gives me the impression that Jade doesn't see Floyd as threatening but as someone cute and child-like. This idea is reinforced when, in an attempt to keep Jade dreaming, dream!Azul tells him that Floyd is cute and not some thug (like the real Floyd is). AND JADE 100% BUYS IT. He 100% believes that dresm!Floyd is the "true" one, that his Floyd and Azul would be useless without his support.

Idia makes an important comment at this point in book 7. He explains that Jade is having a hard time waking up because he believes in himself too strongly. That also means that Jade is distrustful of others; he is the only person he counts on. This reflected in how dream!Azul and dream!Floyd present. Both are heavily reliant on Jade to tell them what to do. In real life, too, Jade uses his competency to get into others' good graces (including the notoriously hard to please Vil; see his Dorm Uniform vignettes) so then he can reap the benefits that relationship offers. Jade is just that confident that he can succeed. Indeed, he often is the one coming close to tasting success when all others have failed. If we look back at Ghost Marriage, Jade was about to win over Eliza's heart before Floyd rudely interrupted and pointed out the flowers Jade was gifting were poisonous. Back to Idia's comment; because this is dream's Jade world, he's perhaps too invested in the dream that he has made, thus Jade is choosing to believe the dream that he conjured over the reality staring him in the face. It takes fistfighting with Floyd AND a jolt from Sebek's UM to properly shock some sense into Jade. He is otherwise too stuck in his own head to consider a truth that isn't one he has constructed for himself.

Still, I find it revealing that even though Jade is essentially stuck in his own headspace, dream!Floyd and dream!Azul are the only other people around. Floyd and Azul’s dreams feature way more NPCs, but Jade’s dream is pretty lonely. He could theoretically have several influential people to whisper in the ears of, but instead Jade’s desire is grounded… just being able to explore nature with his twin and Azul. They’re the ones he chooses to spend his time with. No one else. And Jade actively, fiercely defends this simple thing despite usually not being one to resort to violence right off the bat. The only major time in the main story where Jade does this is in book 2, when be noticed that he’s being tailed and does not appreciate the violations of his privacy. That’s exactly what this dream sequence is. It’s another violation of his privacy, and he detests that. You shouldn’t be here interrupting his happy, chill time with his friends business associates. It’s best for you to clear out.

I think it's also worthwhile to note that Floyd and Jade's waking sequences mirror one another. To quote myself from another post:

Something I find interesting is that the twins’ moments of waking mirror each other’s usual approaches to a task. Floyd usually foregoes a plan and prefers to use his fists to get the job done. However, he is slowly roused by reminiscing about his memories at NRC and the promise of being presented with a challenge. The final blow that shocks him awake is the presentation of a dream!Azul and dream!Jade who attempt to lure him deeper into the dream. Floyd doesn’t fall for it; in fact, he gets mad instead, and that fury, so biting and clear, snaps him awake. The opposite is true for Jade. He is someone who meticulously plans before acting, and would rather control the circumstances and use other roundabout methods before resorting to violence. But ironically, the master manipulator Jade is the one who falls for his own dream’s manipulations—all because he trusts himself above all else. He only wakes up because of a very strong physical force (ie Sebek’s UM) striking him. Prior to this, Jade was putting up a very good fight and the blows be was taking were not sufficient to wake fully him. So… Floyd, the brother who prefers brawns, woke up after reflecting and experiencing strong cognitive dissonance between his fake reality and bis true reality. Jade, the brother who prefers brains, woke up after being smacked the right amount. They woke up after experiencing an intense shock related to what is essentially the opposite of their preferred problem solving strategies.

And last but not least, Azul!

We’ve arrived at what I think is the juiciest part to dissect on the subject of the Octatrio’s friendship. To start off with, everyone suspects that Azul’s dream will be one in which he is a highly successful businessman with Mostro Lounge as a chain with even more locations stretching as far as the Coral Sea’s depths. That isn’t the case though! They quickly come to learn that Azul is the leader of Golden Trident, a reigning Coral Rush team. In this dream’s reality Azul was always popular and well-liked. Because he was never bullied, he never started up his shady business in middle school and thus never attracted the interest of the twins. Notably, Jade and Floyd still exist in the dream (as Azul remembers the Leeches from elementary school), but they never got close.

Before we get into the Octatrio’s dynamics, I want to say that the setup of this dream already tells us that a lot of Azul’s desire to become a successful business owner really stems from the longing to be accepted as he is. He uses his businesses and accumulation of contracts to reinforce and inform his self worth. Azul has formed a false belief and identity entering around the concept of success and likability equating to talent and material goods. This explains why he’s so fixated in his public image and being perceived as smart, confident, reliable, and trustworthy, and why he loses it so quickly when he’s denied his collection of golden contracts. Azul is insecure as heck about his shortcomings (athleticism being one of them) and the dream may be latching onto that, as well as his desire to be liked by his peers, to overcompensate.

A little thing I'd like to call attention to is that Jade refuses to divulge the private details of Azul's past in which he was bullied. This is significant because most other instances of the twins bringing up Azul's past usually results in them making fun of him for it and continuing to rag on him to the point where Azul becomes annoyed and tells them to quit it/reminds them that they swore to not talk about it. In those other instances though, the twins never tread that far; they'll at most comment about how different Azul looked or acted back then. They never went so far as to point out how badly he was bullied and here we see Jade respecting Azul's privacy by vocalizing that he refuses to release that information. And this JADE we're talking about, the one who has zero qualms with scoping out prospective new students for their personal info so Azul can later hold it against them (Jade Ceremonial Robes vignettes). Jade even blackmails older students to attain what he wants (Ortho Athletic Gear vignette). It says a lot that, when given the option to openly blab about what Azul experienced and have a laugh about it, Jade clams up.

sdjbaslidbasib OKAY I GOT SIDETRACKED, BACK TO AZUL'S DREAM. So he remembers the Leeches from elementary school, meaning that their existence was not entirely purged from his dream world. It's just a different timeline of events since he wasn't bullied in this reality. Azul is quite friendly to the twins and invites them to join his Coral Rush team at his mother's restaurant for a celebratory dinner. When we arrive at the restaurant, Azul and his team mates start to make fun of the land creatures for very similar things that he actually got bullied for in the waking world. (For example, being clumsy and uncoordinated in their swimming.) He's no longer the bullied, he is a bully. In a twisted way, Azul is getting validation of his own identity by looking down on others; this mirrors his behavior pre-OB in book 3, as he also mistreated his anemone'd peers back then. Tellingly, the only people he doesn't bully are... that's right, Jade and Floyd. Azul instead asks them to play Coral Rush with him. Again, this parallels what we saw in book 3: Azul is asking the twins to essentially "join" him in the midst of him abusing his power and lording over others. He still cares deeply about Jade and Floyd's approval specifically. Nowhere is this demonstrated so clearly as the method by which the twins finally get Azul to start questioning the construct of the dream. They start smashing up the restaurant but then grow bored and make as though they're going to casually leave. That triggers a memory from book 3 in which Azul is angrily shouting about how he'll always be alone. Alone. That's what Azul fears, being that lonely little octopus crying in his pot. That's why he's surrounded by adoring team members and fans in his dream. That's why he breaks down emotionally and OBs after the twins refuse to hand over their UMs to him in book 3. That's why he becomes distraught enough to shake the dream at the suggestion that Jade and Floyd, his two closest friends, are threatening to leave him. In book 4, Azul tries to be cool and play off this fear as the inevitable, that he's fully aware that the Leeches will discard him if he stops being entertaining to them, and that he's prepared for that when it happens. But... is that really the truth, given how Azul reacts in book 7? Everything leading up to this moment seems to imply Azul was just lying to himself, perhaps in an attempt to quell his own anxieties about the possibility. And given how Azul is shown to be calculated in cultivating a put-together public persona, I would not be shocked to learn that. It wouldn't make him seem strong or confident if he displayed weakness or fear over losing his right-hand men. I don't even know that he's purposefully telling a lie. It could very well be something Azul tells himself and believes in, but deep down he cannot truly know how emotional he would get if it ever happened.

As soon as Azul starts to wake, the mermobs of his Coral Rush team are the ones who come in and pull him deeper into the dream. Interesting to have just mobs doing this rather than a dream!Jade or dream!Floyd, given how important they seem to be to Azul. Maybe that's just how the surface level of the dream works? Like, it prioritizes lavishing Azul with general attention rather than the attention of two specific people since, in this dream's reality, Azul never bonded with Jade and Floyd (so those two wouldn't be as convincing?).

When Azul is being dragged into the darkness, Jade and Floyd don't go after him. Instead, they kinda just sit back and claim it's Azul's choice to dream more deeply so who are they to interfere? It takes some convincing from Ortho to convince the twins to pursue Azul into the next layer of the dream--but after the twins depart, Ortho wonders if Jade and Floyd being this cold is actually their way of showing trust. This sort of behavior is why I stress so often that we cannot take what the Octatrio do and say at face value all of the time. They have completely different ways of expressing that they care, and they don't always mean what they insist they mean. (KEEP THIS IN MIND BECAUSE IT COMES BACK INTO PLAY SOON.) In the second layer of Azul's dream, we revisit the events of book 3 had he been successful. He's setting that final class trip picture on fire and relishing in his total conquest of Night Raven College. Azul has ~500 golden contracts, the UMs of the other dorm leaders, and even has Crowley under his thumb--and this time, there's a dream!Jade and dream!Floyd to enjoy that victory with him. The rescue squad has to trick Azul into accidentally sanding his own contracts again, and it's that loss that finally breaks him. Again, we see how much of his own self-worth and value Azul places in that which he collects. It all ties back to that fear of not having anything of worth--not even allies to call his own--if he loses what he believes makes him desirable. At this point, Azul begins to sink into that final layer of his dream (the part where he confronts his OB self). This time, the twins lunge after him, calling out Azul's name and instructing him to grab onto them (+ Jade tells Floyd to help him pull). UM, HELLO????? The "take my hand" imagery, that symbol of trust and connection, from all the way at the start of the game is rearing its head here 😭 AND YOU KNOW WHAT'S EVEN CRAZIER???? The twins just... let go after that??? But not because they don't give a crap about Azul--no, it's because they care and believe that he can fend for himself, that he's no longer a weak person who cries and needs their support to stand on his own. Jade sends him off with a "good luck" and Floyd asks of Azul to not go to hell. Azul casually says the same right back to them before descending. And, just as the twins suspected, Azul is able to win against his inner demons and return to them, safe and sound. They were right about Azul, and Ortho was right about the Leeches. For as cold as Jade and Floyd seem to act, it's actually a front for how much they care.

In the segment where Azul faces his Phantom, he cites that the weight of everything he has taken from others has made it difficult to move. Taken literally, it of course could refer to the tentacles of his merform making it hard for him to swim. Metaphorically though? It can easily mean that he can't achieve personal growth if he's burdened by the weight of his sins (stolen talents, items, etc.). These things he stole may glitter, but they are not gold and he now realizes they aren't things he actually finds valuable. Azul wants to go out there and find things of "real value". I interpret this to mean intangible things that can't really have a price put to them, things that cannot be bought in stores... like friendship, the very thing he has with the twins but failed to call it that this entire time.

Everything in these dreams, and more specifically Azul's dream, demonstrates the Octatrio's mutual respect and trust in one another. Jade and Floyd acknowledge Azul as a strong individual, and Azul's subconscious reveals that he deeply values the twins and seeks their approval even when they've been removed from the picture.

[riotwritesthings]

I'll cave in (whenever you see fit)

A BIG BIG HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!! to @warmachinesocks​

thanks for being you that’s big sexie of you. Here’s a thing.

Winteriron, M, 5k - Vampire!Bucky, human!Tony, an abduction, a rescue, and some dry humping

Bucky knows better than to get involved with a mortal, and he pays the price when Hydra kidnaps his boyfriend. Tony is human, he's questionably in distress, and he is Handling It. (minor violence, surprisingly soft all things considered.)

~~~

Bucky should have known this would happen. Fuck, he should have known.

An immortal should never get involved with a human, that’s rule fucking one because it never ends well for anyone.

Especially not for the human.

But he’s selfish, so fucking selfish, and the first time Tony smiled up at him, open and happy, Bucky knew he was doomed.

He knows something is wrong the second pushes the door open to find the basement apartment completely dark. The only light is the weak streetlight pouring in through the one tiny window, near the ceiling in the kitchen.

Even in the dark, Bucky can easily tell that the place has been trashed, though it is only a subtle difference from the organized chaos Tony usually keeps his workspace in.

The apartment is too quiet, too still, and he knows instantly.

Bucky fucked up. Badly.

Because it had been entirely too easy to get used to the warmth of Tony’s smile, of his skin, the way he so easily made a space for Bucky in his life.

It had been so easy to let himself get comfortable in Tony’s weird basement apartment that’s half home and half machine shop, perfectly Tony. The way the apartment is brightly lit with industrial lights at all hours of the day and night so Tony can see whatever brilliant new invention he’s working on next.

Bucky never had a chance at not getting attached, because in all his years he’s never met anyone like Tony.

Tony is perfect, and brilliant, left with nothing after his father's company was stolen out from under him and Tony just built himself a new life, tries to help wherever he can. He keeps erratic hours and never minds that Bucky comes and goes at all hours of the night, that Bucky can't go out in the daylight.

Bucky hasn’t been in the sun in nearly a thousand years, but with Tony in his arms, so warm and bright and alive, he could almost remember what it felt like.

And now Tony has been taken.

Bucky knew who was responsible even before he found the symbol burned into the wall. It’s Hydra. Of course it is, and those bastards won’t care that he’s human, that he never should have been involved in any of this, all they’ll care about is hurting Bucky as much as they can.

And they picked exactly the right target.

Hydra has been after him for nearly as long as Bucky has been not-alive, determined to wipe out all vampires at any cost. Even once the war was over, even after all the other hunter’s guilds signed the peace treaty, Hydra refused to give up their mission and for some reason they’ve taken a personal vendetta against Bucky. Probably because he’s evaded them so many times.

And now they have Tony.

The thing is that Bucky hasn't really known Tony that long, not even by human standards, but he is completely, irretrievably in love. He’s ready to burn the whole world down to get Tony back, even if Tony never forgives him for it.

But he’s not going to be able to find where Tony is being held, not on his own. Not in time.

The downside to immortal friends though, is that Bucky hasn’t actually seen any of them in years, because what’s a couple decades between centuries old beings? Steve is back in Europe for a while, working on his painting, and Bucky hasn’t seen Natalia in nearly fifty years now, which means she probably won’t turn back up for another fifty.

There is one more option, Bucky is just less than thrilled about it.

It’s no secret that the other hunter’s guilds don’t approve of Hydra’s methods, the amount of collateral damage they leave in their wake. The lengths they’re willing to go to.

Like kidnapping innocent humans.

It’s definitely still a stretch to hope they’ll be willing to help someone like Bucky find Hydra, but he has to try.

And he does have one idea of where to start.

Bucky and Sam don’t like each other very much, and that’s been the standing opinion for the last decade. Which for a hunter and vampire, is basically a lifelong friendship.

It’s at least enough that Bucky can show up at Sam’s door without immediately getting himself staked.

The door flies open and Bucky blinks, because it never fails to surprise him how old Sam has gotten. Every time, Bucky is a little bit expecting Sam-as-he-met-him, still a kid, on his first hunt and clearly terrified but so determined to save the world, so idealistic. And now he’s so jaded, older and tired and it’s just one more reminder of just how badly Bucky has fucked up.

Tony is going to go cold and tired and it will be all Bucky’s fault.

“You’re here about Hydra,” Sam says flatly, no preamble, and at least that answers Bucky’s question about whether or not Sam even knows that Hydra is setting up camp in his territory.

"Tell me where they are," Bucky demands, resisting the urge to flash his fangs just yet because he's not here to threaten answers out of anyone. Not unless he has to.

Although he doesn't find it encouraging that Sam doesn't answer, just clenches his jaw and swings the door open a little wider, letting Bucky see that the extra heartbeat he hears belongs to Clint. Standing in the hallway with a crossbow in hand.

Bucky lets his lip curl up a little, because apparently this is going to be that kind of conversation.

“What do they have against you, anyways?" Clint asks conversationally, like he's not holding a loaded weapon with an expression that says he'd really like to use it. "Seems very personal at this point."

“What, you want the entire list?” Bucky snaps and finds that he is more than willing to give the whole sordid story if that's what it takes.

But he doesn't have the time for that, Tony doesn't have the time.

Instead he grits his teeth and demands “Tell me where they would take a human hostage."

It has the desired effect, both of the hunters tense and Clint’s eyes go wide, and maybe now they’ll realize that this isn’t about him.

The only thing that matters is Tony, and Bucky doesn’t even care that he’s not just admitting to that weakness, he’s basically screaming it from the rooftops by telling them. Doesn’t care that Sam’s eyes narrow in painful understanding.

“We can’t tell you that,” Sam says and he really does sound regretful, but Bucky snarls because that is not what he wants to hear. “Even if we don’t agree with what they’ve done, they’re still—“

“If you don’t tell me, I will kill you,” Bucky interrupts, his voice low and harsh and it’s gratifying to hear the spike in heart rates, it means he still has a chance of convincing them, whether by threat or force.

“Barnes—“ Sam tries to interrupt, but Bucky doesn’t have time for this.

“And then I’ll find out where he is anyways,” Bucky promises, “the only thing you’ll accomplish is slowing me down.”

“You wouldn’t,” Clint says, but he doesn’t sound sure and his grip on the crossbow is white-knuckled, “you’ll start a war you can never come back from.”

“Try me,” Bucky hisses, flashes his teeth and lets his eyes flare. He wants them to know how deadly serious he is.

Clint raises his crossbow, but Sam sighs.

“In the old warehouse district,” Sam says, shoulders tight with anger and fear, “on the far west edge of the city.”

“You’ll regret this,” Clint calls after him as he stalks away, but Bucky knows that he won’t.

Not if he can just get to Tony in time. Nothing matters beyond making sure his selfishness doesn’t get Tony killed. He doesn’t care what it costs, Bucky is more than willing to leave everything and go on the run again, all he cares about is making sure Tony is alive to hate him.

Sam’s information is good, so at least Bucky won’t have to go back when he’s done here.

He’s been dealing with Hydra for centuries now, and Bucky can easily identify the abandoned factory as a Hydra base. It’s the new bars over the windows, the reinforced doors, the impression of movement just below the surface of the dilapidated building.

He only has a couple hours before the sun comes up, and then he’ll be trapped in the building with who knows how many Hydra hunters. He has to find Tony and get out as quickly as possible.

He has to make sure that at least gets Tony out.

Hydra are still setting up their bases more or less the same way they always have, the same holes in security, and getting into the building is easy. Finding the makeshift holding cells is even easier, on the south-most side of the building, but the problem is that all of the cells are empty.

The entire wing of the factory seems to be empty and there’s fresh blood splattered across the walls and the floor, still wet and shining in the fluorescent lights.

The building is too filled with the smell of mold and decay for him to tell whose blood it is, for him to have a hope of picking out the familiar sweet tang that means Tony.

He can hear the sounds of commotion in the distance, what sounds like screams and gunshots further into the factory. It’s the same direction the trail of spilled blood is leading, and Bucky grits his teeth as he follows it.

The base is nearly deserted. Bucky only sees a couple hunters as he follows the sounds of the fight. Everyone he runs into is scrambling for weapons or the exits, and they don’t seem to be expecting him at all. They seem like they’re afraid of something else entirely, like they’re trying to escape.

Bucky doesn’t let them.

They took Tony, and he doesn’t even want to let himself imagine what they’ve done to him. On the slim chance he manages to get Tony out of here, Bucky can’t have any of them going after him again.

He has to make sure they never even think about going after Tony again.

The sounds of screams get louder as he moves into the heart of the warehouse, up the stairs to the offices. The blood is thicker here, splattered across the walls and the floors with evidence of a struggle. Smeared like someone has been dragged down the long hallway kicking and fighting.

With every empty room and bloody handprint he passes his rage grows, and by the time Bucky reaches the last door all he can see is red.

He slams in the door so hard that it splinters apart, chunks of cheap plywood flying everywhere. There’s a smell in the air like acrid smoke, like melting electronics and fire and blood, nearly overwhelming.

Bodies litter the room, dead and dying, but all he sees is Tony.

Bucky has spent the last four hours trying not to let himself imagine all sorts of horrible things. Tony hurt, Tony dead, bleeding, tortured, screaming. Rightfully cursing Bucky for getting him into this mess, rightfully wishing they'd never met.

He’s not prepared for what he actually finds.

Tony is alive, bloodied and bruised but so vibrantly alive, a knife in his hand and a vicious smile on his face as he plunges it into the chest of a Hydra hunter.

Bucky freezes uselessly in the doorway, watching in awe as Tony rips the knife free again, paying no mind to the spray of blood as he spins on his heel. Buries his blade in the gut of someone trying to creep up behind him.

And all at once it’s over.

The room goes still as the last hunter falls with Tony’s knife in his neck, Tony’s knees against his chest baring him down to the ground.

Bucky doesn’t even need to breathe, but still he finds himself choking on air as he watches Tony slowly right himself again, looking over all the destruction he’s caused.

Then Tony looks up, catches sight of him, and the expression on his face shifts from cold and vicious to warm and happy in an instant. Bucky’s cold dead heart lurches in his chest.

“Hey sweetheart, about time you got here,” Tony says, tossing him a jaunty wave with the knife still in hand.

Bucky crosses the room almost in a daze, headless of the blood that slicks the floor and the bodies he has to step over. All he can see is Tony and as soon as he’s close enough he traces his fingers reverently along the line of Tony’s jaw, ghosting over the dark bruise starting to form.

“Are you okay?” Tony asks, nonsensically, leaning into Bucky’s hands on him like Bucky isn’t the most dangerous thing in the room.

And hell maybe he’s not, Bucky certainly doesn’t feel dangerous. Not faced with Tony’s bright eyes and warm skin.

He feels weak, feels completely undone.

Bucky laughs, soft and strangled, and he hasn’t been cold in centuries but his hands are shaking as he cups Tony’s face in his palms.

“No,” he chokes out around another laugh, because he’s not okay, not anywhere close. “I thought- I didn’t know if you were- Tony--”

“Hey, hey,” Tony cuts him off, pulling him in closer and tucking Bucky’s face down into the curve of his neck. Where Bucky can hear the rapid thump of his heart, smell the adrenaline and the sweat that clings to his skin beneath all the blood.

And oh god there’s so much blood, covering Tony’s skin and his clothes and the room around them. Bucky can barely smell Tony through it and he tucks his face a little harder into the hollow of Tony’s throat.

“I’m okay,” Tony promises, fingers of one hand pressing into Bucky’s hair, his other hand resting on Bucky’s side and still wrapped tightly around the knife. Still prepared, and Bucky has never loved him more.

He drags his tongue up the line of Tony’s neck, through smears and splatters of blood. It’s almost a disappointment, definitely a thrill, that none of it is Tony’s.

“What did you- how did you even-“ Bucky keeps interrupting himself, can’t get a full thought out. He’s too concerned with lifting his head and pressing his lips to every inch of Tony’s perfect, unharmed face.

“I keep telling you, I’m a bad bitch,” Tony says, that beautiful smug grin on his face and Bucky just has to taste it.

Tony melts into it so easily when Bucky kisses him, his hands demanding but so gentle, like the room around them isn’t full of carnage. Like Tony isn’t the one who put it there, like he doesn’t have a care in the world except letting Bucky lick into his mouth, taste the adrenaline and determination and life straight from his lips.

Bucky has never tasted anything like it, has never met anyone like Tony, and he could have lost this.

He has to get closer, closer. He doesn’t even realize he’s backing Tony across the room until the back of Tony’s thighs hit a metal table, and Bucky just keeps pushing. Until the table clangs against the wall, until Tony is bent backwards over the surface.

Bucky follows him down, breathing him in, pressing between Tony’s thighs and still trying to get closer.

The table clatters, covered in knives and crossbows and stakes and Bucky doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. It doesn’t matter how much noise he makes now, Tony is the only living person in the warehouse, the only heartbeat on this rundown block. The only thing Bucky needs to worry about.

He certainly doesn’t give a fuck about the bodies that still litter the floor except that none of them are Tony, thatTony put them there.

Bucky doesn’t care about the bridges he’s burned, has never cared less about the impending sunrise. All that matters is Tony.

And Tony isn’t pushing him away, isn’t complaining. He just hooks one leg over Bucky’s hip and arches up against him, finally dropping his knife to drag both palms up Bucky’s back, pulling him in closer.

Tony is so warm beneath him, wrapped around him, always pulling Bucky in when he should be pushing him away.

“Fuck,” Tony sighs against his lips, one hand in Bucky’s hair again. Tony’s legs tighten around his waist, entire body rolling against Bucky’s, his voice shaking slightly as he says “I was so worried about you.”

Bucky wants to laugh again, because that’s soTony, worrying about Bucky while abducted and fighting for his life. Caring about Bucky in the first place when he should have run, should still be running, should leave Bucky far behind and never think about him again.

Nevermind that the idea has pain lancing through Bucky’s chest like he didn’t even think was possible anymore. He’d take the pain of losing Tony happily if he knew it meant Tony would be safe.

He will walk away, once they get out of here, that’s what Bucky tells himself. He just has to breathe Tony in this one last time and then he’ll walk away.

If Tony will let him. Which doesn’t seem likely, so far Tony has seemed determined to stay by Bucky’s side no matter what, and Bucky can never deny him anything.

The warehouse might be empty now but there’s no telling how long it’ll be before more hunters show up, and they should be getting out of here, Bucky knows that. But he can’t tear himself away from Tony’s warmth, from Tony’s hands moving over him.

Bucky can’t stop thinking that he could have lost this. That if he hadn’t found Tony alive and well Bucky would have made an even bigger mess. There would be no end to the carnage.

When he pulls away from the kiss Tony is panting raggedly and if Bucky had the spare brain power he’d feel bad about that but oh, he really doesn’t right now. Doesn’t care about anything but pressing his lips to Tony’s blood-splattered cheek swearing “I never would have stopped looking for you, never.”

“I know,” Tony promises, still trying to pull Bucky back into another kiss despite the way his words come out weak and breathy, his chest heaving against Bucky’s and his heart thundering.

So alive, alive, alive.

“I’d have done anything to get you back,” Bucky growls, dragging one hand down Tony’s side to his hip, digging his fingers in and shifting them until he can feel the hot brand of Tony’s cock against his hip.

“Fuck!” Tony gasps and the scent of his adrenaline spikes higher, turns sweet and warm as his fingers tighten in Bucky’s hair. “I know, I know, c’mon honey--”

And Bucky can’t say no to that, can never deny Tony anything.

Still, even as he lets Tony haul his face up again Bucky can’t stop the words from spilling out, his voice an awful snarl as he says “and if they’d hurt you--”

It’s probably for the best that Tony slams their lips together again and cuts him off, he doesn’t need to know all the monstrous things Bucky would do in his name. Much better to just let Tony kiss him, let Tony flick his warm tongue over Bucky’s blood smeared lips and the tips of his fangs, like he doesn’t have a fear in the world.

Tony’s heart rate kicks up harder, his next inhale weak and ragged against Bucky’s lips and Bucky forces himself to pull away. He lets Tony catch his breath and moves on to biting his way along Tony’s jaw, not enough to break the skin, just enough to get the taste of his skin on Bucky’s lips.

He tastes like sweat and arousal and need, so much love pouring off of him that Bucky can practically taste it. He’ll never get enough of it, doesn’t ever think he’ll stop being caught off guard by it.

“I told you,” Tony pants out when he finally gets his breath back and for a second Bucky doesn’t even know what he’s talking about, too distracted with the wet drag of Tony’s lips over his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Tony says, one of his hands landing on Bucky’s ass to pull him in closer, harder, arching up into the demanding roll of Bucky’s hips as he moans out “‘m not gonna let anything happen to you either.”

Bucky laughs raggedly, grits his teeth, presses his face into the curve of Tony’s throat and the craziest part is that Bucky believes him. As crazy as it is he has no problem believing that Tony is equally ready to burn the world down. That the bloodbath around them is only the start of what Tony would have done.

The heat building between them is so intense that even Bucky feels warm, feels like he’s burning. Like he’s absorbing all that wonderful warmth and still Tony has so much to give, never runs out of it, never pushes him away.

Bucky growls, lifts his head to make it easier to resist the urge to sink his teeth in and instead rolls his hips against Tony’s, swallows Tony’s shaking moan with another fierce kiss. “You’re so- fuck, gorgeous, the way you looked tearing thorugh them--” Bucky can’t even find the words to describe it but Tony’s scent spikes, proud and smug and fond.

So damn addictive.

He can feel the needy throb of Tony’s cock against his hip, against his own when Bucky shifts a little more, and he grinds himself down against Tony. Chasing the shocks of heat and pleasure that shoot through his system everytime Tony jerks beneath him, everytime Tony cires out and drags in a ragged breath and then clings to Bucky harder, pulling him in and rocking up against him, so alive. Tony’s heels digging into the back of his thighs, hands moving restlessly over Bucky’s skin, sliding up under the back of Bucky’s shirt and leaving burning trails in his wake.

Tony feels so amazing wrapped around him, so alive, warm and demanding as his fingers dig into Bucky’s skin, his breath escaping in gasps and moans. The impossible heat between them continues to grow, until Bucky is sure it’s going to burn him away entirely, he can’t possibly survive something like this.

He can’t possibly keep it, not something like him.

“Bucky,” Tony whines and he’s shaking now, blood roaring through his veins. So close to Bucky’s fangs as he drags his lips up Tony’s throat.

“C’mon baby,” Bucky growls, clenching his teeth against the urge to bite, “lemme feel you sweet thing, wanna hear you.”

“I’m-” Tony gasps and then cuts off with a keening moan as Bucky pins him down more firmly, grinds against him harder. Tony tries to wiggle a hand between their bodies but Bucky grabs his wrist, presses Tony’s hand to the table beside his head.

“Just like this,” Bucky pleads, his own cock throbbing as he slows the rock of his hips, dragging his cock firmly along Tony’s until he shakes. “Just like this baby, wanna watch you make an even bigger mess of yourself, wanna fuckin’ lick you clean when we get home.”

It’s a nice thought, even if Bucky doesn’t know if he’ll actually get a chance, has no idea what’s going to happen next. At least the idea of it has Tony moaning louder, arching up against Bucky’s grip on his hip and on his wrist, always trying to get closer.

“Bucky, Bucky-” Tony wails beneath him, nails digging into Bucky’s skin, thighs tightening around Bucky’s hips, and Bucky can feel the way Tony’s breath catches in his chest. The way his heart pounds as he drags in one more breath and then breaks.

And this, this is Bucky’s favorite sound, the way Tony’s voice cracks on a loud moan as he falls apart, the stuttering jump-skip of his heartbeat. Hundreds of years wandering the earth and he’s never heard anything like it, could happily listen to all the sounds Tony makes for the rest of his endless life.

“Bucky,” Tony sighs, dazed and slurred, fingers still tight in Bucky’s hair even as his entire body shakes. “Fuck, c’mon honey, I’m right here, let me have it, let me feel you.”

He can hear Tony’s thundering heartbeat like it’s his own, can practically taste it on his tongue, and a feral sound rumbles out of Bucky’s chest as he tips over the edge, snarling against the all too delicate skin of Tony’s throat and clutching at him tighter, tighter.

“I love you,” Bucky confesses in a voice that’s so broken it’s practically a whisper, like his greatest secret. The worst thing he’s ever done.

They need to leave, need to get the hell out of here. Bucky should probably leave the city entirely, go back on the move, leave Tony far behind where he won’t get hurt.

That’s the plan.

He knows all that, but Bucky can’t seem to bring himself to let go, can’t stop kissing Tony over and over and over, feeling the warmth of Tony’s skin beneath his hands. Like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel it.

“Come on,” Tony breathes against his lips, “we gotta get out of here before the sun comes up.”

Bucky groans, but he knows Tony is right. He can feel the approaching dawn in his bones and the last thing he wants is to be trapped in a Hydra base full of corpses all day. Or to still be here when more hunters show up, to have to leave through the sewers.

So he reluctantly pushes himself upright, mourning the way Tony’s lingering warmth starts to fade as soon as they’re not pressed together anymore. Tony’s hand is so much steadier than his own as Bucky helps him to his feet, so warm and alive and unafraid.

Bucky wants to pull him into another kiss. Wants to drop to his knees and press his face to the wet patch slowly spreading across the front of Tony’s jeans, taste him, lick him clean just like Bucky had promised. Doesn’t want to face the real world just yet because that means facing the fact that he has to leave.

That he doesn’t get to keep this.

Tony’s hand is still steady in his, his smile small and fond and he leads Bucky out of the warehouse, through the room of bodies and the bloodsplattered halls. Bucky pulls them to a stop just outside the heavy door he’d ripped his way through, paying no mind to the lightening color of the sky.

Burning to dust would hurt less than this.

“I need to leave,” Bucky says, the words tearing their way out of his throat, “I may have... made some threats. In order to find you. And Hydra isn’t going to stop as long as I’m here.”

He hasn’t even told Tony why Hydra is so determined to ruin his afterlife, not entirely, and now he doesn’t have time. Tony has been dragged into Bucky’s mess and he’ll never know why, and the only upside is Hydra will blame the bloody mess inside on Bucky. They’ll hunt for him more furiously than ever, and the best thing Bucky can do is lead them far, far away.

This is why not getting involved with humans is rule fucking one but Bucky doesn’t regret it, knows he never will. And as much as it kills him he can’t ask Tony to come with him.

Tony nods, like he expected it, and then asks “where are we going, and how long do I have to pack whatever’s left of my apartment?”

Bucky gapes at him.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he wouldn’t need to ask, and Bucky knows he should be relieved but all he feels is guilt. He loves Tony, but at what cost? He would do anything for Tony, and Bucky is ruining his life.

“You- your home,” Bucky tries to protest, his entire body going cold, colder than anything he’s ever felt before. “Your workshop--”

“You saying I can’t rebuild?” Tony interrupts, “I’m insulted, honestly. How dare you doubt me.” His smile is wide, and cajoling, like he’s trying to cheer Bucky up. Like he’s trying to convince Bucky.

“You’ll have to leave everything,” Bucky insists and maybe he does need convincing. It feels a little like he’s lost his mind, like he’s dreaming. He had a plan. “Your entire life, to hide with me, I can’t- I can’t promise the next time you’ll even see the sun.”

Bucky doesn’t need to breathe but he’s wheezing for breath now, his empty chest aching it’s so full of confusion and guilt and hope. He can’t let Tony do this, he can’t ask for this, he can’t--

Tony grabs Bucky’s face in his warm hands, palms calloused and still tacky with blood, as steady as they are when he’s building the future. As steady as they were around the knife, as when he was leading Bucky out of the bloodbath.

“Bucky,” Tony says simply, dark eyes so impossibly bright even in the sickly fluorescent light that spills out of the warehouse. “Bucky,” he repeats, low and sweet and amused, his voice wavering slightly as says “You are my sunshine.”

Bucky laughs again, can’t believe how much he’s laughed on a night that started out with his absolute worst nightmare. Even if it is a little hysterical.

He had a plan, but he also knew better than to get involved with a human, knew better than to stay in one place this long in the first place. Tony has been wrecking all of his plans without even knowing it for months now anyways.

What’s one more.

“You’re stealin’ all my lines,” Bucky accuses but he doesn’t mind, oh he doesn’t mind at all. He gets to keep this, keep Tony, the brightest thing he’s ever seen.

“I love you,” Tony says, so matter-of-fact, and it almost knocks Bucky’s legs out from under him. Every single time.

“That’s my line,” Bucky says, and he smiles, and his hand is steady as he wraps it around Tony’s wrist. “I love you,” he says anyways and tangles their fingers together, doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. “Let’s go.”

[siancore]

| SamBucky | Explicit | 1K | One-Shot

Summary: After a mission, Bucky fucks Sam while he’s wearing the custom-made Captain America Suit

Read on AO3

Content: Established Relationship; PWP: Anal Fingering; Anal Sex; Oral Sex; Suit Kink.

This was not how missions usually ended for Sam. He did not usually end up on his back in some safehouse in Europe, naked from the waist down, with Bucky Barnes kneeling between his legs. It usually went like this: Finish a mission; meet at an extraction point; or spend the night in a safehouse. This time was different. This time Sam was wearing his custom-made Captain America suit and Bucky just couldn’t get enough of him in it. Or out of it? Either way, Sam was lying on the small bed in the safehouse, with the bottom half of his suit removed and Bucky looking down at him, stroking his own cock. Bucky looked like he was ready to devour Sam. Sam looked up at him and went to remove his goggles.

“Leave ‘em,” Bucky commanded, his voice deep from arousal.

“Jesus Buck,” said Sam, wholly flustered as his own erection began to swell. “Can I at least get outta the rest o’ the suit?”

“Nah, Cap, I’m gonna need you to leave it on,” said Bucky as he leaned down to kiss Sam’s strong thighs. He trailed biting kisses across the smooth skin there, causing Sam to tremble. “Wanna fuck you so hard, baby, but I wanna do it while you’re wearing the suit.”

Before Sam could reply, Bucky’s mouth was on him. Licking a wet stripe up the underside of Sam’s growing hardness. He sucked Sam’s crown between his lips and hummed, setting Sam hard.

“You got the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen, Sammy,” said Bucky, as he spat in his palm and stroked Sam’s shaft. “Prettiest cock on the prettiest guy.”

Bucky leaned back down and licked just under the tip where it was most sensitive.

“I love how you get hard and wet for me,” said Bucky, running his tongue up and down. “I love this vein right here.”

He licked it and the sucked at the side of Sam’s shaft.

“I love how you fit just perfect in my mouth,” Bucky added as he swallowed Sam’s dick, bobbing his head up and down.

“Fuck, Bucky,” Sam moaned, threading his fingers through the older man’s hair.

Bucky gagged on Sam’s thick cock as he took it down his throat. Saliva dripped onto Bucky’s hand where he was holding the base of Sam’s hardness. He used his Vibranium hand to wipe away some of the spit, coating his metal fingers with it before pressing against Sam’s puckered hole.

“Shit,” said Sam, as Bucky began to tease his hole as he continued to suck him off.

“You want them?” asked Bucky, referring to his Vibranium fingers as he pulled off Sam’s dick and kept stroking it. “You want me to fill you up with them?”

“God, yes,” Sam replied, leaning up so he could watch Bucky.

Bucky reached for the lube, coated his metal fingers, and then gave Sam a devilish smile.

“Record this,” said Bucky, as he began to inch one finger inside of Sam’s tight heat.

Sam pressed his hand to the side of his goggles, and they began recording what Bucky was doing. Sam watched as Bucky sucked his cock and finger-fucked his asshole with the Vibranium hand. It was almost too much, began swallowed my Bucky’s skillful mouth and opened up by his metal hand. Sam’s skin was alight as Bucky inserted another finger and took Sam deeper down his throat.

“Shit, Buck. That feels so good,” Sam whined, a melting, quivering mess. “Baby. Baby. You’re gonna make me come.”

Bucky pulled off of his dick again, and said, “You’re so good for me Sammy. I want you to come.”

“I want your dick,” Sam begged, looking like a panting, pulsing beauty.  

“Ask me nicely, Cap.”

“Please, Bucky. I want your dick inside of me.”

Bucky smiled and then hovered over Sam so that they could share a desperate, heated kiss.

“You look too perfect, Sammy,” said Bucky as he bit Sam’s bottom lip. “Too perfect I could never say no to you.”

“You never have to ask, Buck,” said Sam, heady and love drunk. “Whatever you want I’ll give you, just please, baby, fuck me. Please.”

They kissed again as Bucky coated his big, hard cock with lube and lined himself up near Sam’s now gaping hole. He eased his large crown just inside and stared down at Sam, moaning and panting in the red, white, and blue. Legs spread and cock dripping. Begging to be fucked. Begging for Bucky to have him.

They each let out a long, pleasured moan as Bucky slid inside. They kissed and breathed one another in as Bucky bottomed out, filling Sam to the brim.

“You okay, Sammy?” Bucky asked, feeling as if he was floating.

“Yeah, baby,” Sam replied, enjoying the sweet incendiary feeling of being stretched out around his lover. “I’m good.”

Bucky pecked Sam’s lips once more before he began to thrust in and out, over and over. His raw cock glistening as it disappeared inside of Sam’s pretty little hole. Bucky leaned back and continued his movements. Drawing deeper moans from his Sammy with each push; with each thrust; with each time his viscosity rubbed against Sam’s spot.

Sam’s gorgeously thick cock leaked with precum as it bounced back and forth. Hitting Bucky’s lower half; hitting against his Captain America suit. It drove Bucky wild, watching Sam’s dripping tip smack against the suit. It urged Bucky to fuck him harder. To grab hold of the suit as he rammed into Sam’s hole again and yet again.

Bucky’s skin was flushed red, his expression was almost animalistic as he fucked Sam good and proper. Grunts escaped his mouth in between terms of endearment like honey and sweetheart. Telling Sam how good he looked; how much Bucky wanted him; how much Bucky loved him.

Sam’s head felt light in the most delicious way. The suit fit perfectly. It felt like strong arms wrapped around him. Enveloping him. Making him feel safe and secure. The inner layer felt great against his stiff nipples; another added sensation to the feeling of Bucky’s hardness deep inside of him, and the coolness of the Vibranium against his throbbing dick.

It felt as if time was moving too slowly, but then not slow enough. Both men were enraptured with one another. Both relishing in the feeling of possessing and being possessed by the other. They chased their release, but tried to maintain a steady pace as well. But it was no to be. Bucky had struck Sam’s spot one too many times, and Sam was about to explode.

“Oh, god. Fuck, fuck,” said Sam as he came hard.

The white, hot spurts of cum shot from his tip and landed on the suit. Bucky milked Sam until he was too sensitive to touch. Bucky kept driving into him as he watched Sam lying there blissed out. His spent cock resting against the hem of his suit. He was so beautiful. Bucky felt his release coming quickly. Wanted to close his eyes and ravage Sam; tear him apart; wreck him. But he looked too devastatingly gorgeous in his suit, fuck-drunk and lovely. So Bucky pumped into Sam a few more times and came with a shuddering moan and Sam’s name on his lips.

Bucky collapsed on top of Sam, each fighting to catch their breaths. They shared a languid kiss, both too exhausted and blissful to do much else. Bucky withdrew himself from Sam’s well-fucked hole and fell next to him on the too-small bed.

“Sweet Jesus,” said Bucky, his voice still low from desire. “I could get used to that.”

Sam had the presence of mind to stop recording as he removed the goggles and pressed a kiss to the side of Bucky’s face.

“Yeah,” he said, snuggling closer to the love of his life. “Me, too.”

[philip-ks-dick]

Philip K. Dick, For Dummies.

I’ve been researching PK.D for a few years now, as he’s my father’s favourite author and I’ve been watching movie and show adaptations of his work for the longest time. I have personally only read the books listed, here’s the order (I think) you should read them in, based on difficulty level and the knowledge you need of the PKD canon to understand the books that follow. This is purely my opinion based on knowledge of the author. by philip-k’s-dick (lol)

Beginner. (These books and stories allow readers to explore Dick’s pet themes and stylistic quirks without falling too far down the rabbit hole)

The Short Stories: Over the course of his life, PKD wrote somewhere in the range of 150 short stories. Naturally, it would be silly of me to dump all of them on you at once, but undeniably, the shorter format allows the big ideas of Dick’s work to come through more clearly, and even the screwier stories conform to relatively coherent shape, making them an excellent jumping off point, especially for an author who wrote almost nonstop throughout his life.

My Favourites:

In The Days of Perky Pat - In this novel, survivors of a global thermonuclear war live in isolated enclaves in California, surviving off what they can scrounge from the wastes and supplies delivered from Mars. The older generation spend their leisure time playing with the eponymous doll in an escapist role-playing game that recalls life before the apocalypse — a way of life that is being quickly forgotten. At the story's climax, a couple from one isolated outpost of humanity plays a game against the dwellers of another outpost (who play the game with a doll similar to Perky Pat dubbed "Connie Companion") in deadly earnest. The survivors' shared enthusiasm for the Perky Pat doll and the creation of her accessories from vital supplies is a sort of mass delusion that prevents meaningful re-building of the shattered society. In stark contrast, the children of the survivors show absolutely no interest in the delusion and have begun adapting to their new life.

(Elements of the story were later incorporated into Dick's novel The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, written in 1964 and published in 1965, in which a Perky Pat simulation game is induced by drugs and miniature models instead. Palmer Eldritch is not a continuation or sequel however.)

What the Dead Men Say - Death is followed by a period of 'half-life', a short amount of time which can be rationed out over long periods in which the dead can be revived—so that, potentially, they can 'live' on for a long time. When attempts to bring back important businessman Louis Sarapis fail, it's clearly more than mere negligence. Sure enough, Sarapis starts speaking from beyond the grave. From outer space, in fact. Yet no-one seems terribly bothered, other than those directly concerned in the plot mechanics. Eventually entire communications networks (phones, TV, radio) are blocked by Sarapis' broadcasts

(Philip's later novel Ubik is a continuation of What the Dead Men Say)

Autofac - Three men wait outside their settlement for an automated delivery truck. Five years earlier, during the Total Global Conflict, a network of hardened automatic factories ("autofacs") had been set up with cybernetic controls that determine what food and consumer goods to manufacture and deliver. Human input had been lost, and the men planned disruption to try to establish communication and take over control. They destroy the delivery, but the truck radios the autofac and unloads an identical replacement, then prevents them from reloading items. They act out being disgusted with the milk delivery and are given a complaints checklist. In a blank space, they write improvised semantic garble—"the product is thoroughly pizzled". The autofac sends a humanoid data collector that communicates on an oral basis, but is not capable of conceptual thought, and they are unable to persuade the network to shut down before it consumes all resources. Their next strategy sets neighbouring autofacs in competition with each other for rare resources and seemingly succeeds, but there is a hidden level

Beyond Lies The Wub - Peterson, a crew member of a spaceship loading up with food animals on Mars, buys an enormous pig-like creature known as a "wub" from a native just before departure. Franco, his captain, is worried about the extra weight but seems more concerned about its taste, as his ship is short of food. However, after takeoff, the crew realizes that the wub is a very intelligent creature, capable of telepathy and maybe even mind control.

Peterson and the wub spend time discussing mythological figures and the travels of Odysseus. Captain Franco, paranoid after an earlier confrontation with the Wub which left him temporarily paralyzed, bursts in and insists on killing and eating the wub. The crew becomes very much opposed to killing the sensitive creature after it makes a plea for understanding, but Franco still makes a meal out of him. At the dinner table, Captain Franco apologises for the "interruption" and resumes the earlier conversation between Peterson and the Wub - which now has apparently taken over the Captain's body

Human Is - Jill Herrick and her husband Lester are in the middle of an argument. Lester deflects his wife’s claim that he is “hideous” with cold indifference. He tells her that he will not allow their child in the house and will have him removed to government custody because he is interfering with his research. Before the distraught Jill can pass this onto their son Gus, Lester gets news that he will be taking a trip to Rexor IV. Despite Jill’s desire to go there and see the planet, Lester insists that he will go alone.

Later Jill tells her brother Frank and she is going to leave Lester. She explains how happy she has been with Lester gone and how he seems to be getting worse every year of their marriage. More cold and more “ruthless,” not to mention the incessant working.

Lester comes home a very different man. He praises Jill’s cooking and expresses disgust with his work on Rexor IV studying toxins. He says he prefers Terra and being home with his wife.

Jill reports these changes to Frank, while Lester is playing in the room with Gus. Frank has Lester brought to a lab for more studies under the guidance of the Federal Clearance agency. Before long they realize that Lester has had his body taken over by a Rexorian.

The Hanging Stranger - The protagonist, Ed Loyce, is a store owner who is disturbed when he sees a stranger hanging from a lamppost, but finds that other people consider the apparent lynching unremarkable.

He finds evidence that alien insects have taken over, manages to get out of town, talks to the police commissioner, who believes him, and after getting all the information about what Ed knows, explains that the body was hung to see if anyone reacted to it, anyone they didn't have control over. He then takes Ed outside and hangs him from a lamppost.

The Commuter - Ed Jacobson is a railway worker at Woking station. His life takes a turn for the worse when his son, Sam, begins experiencing psychotic episodes. When he is selling rail tickets at work, a young woman named Linda asks for a ticket to a destination called Macon Heights that is not listed on any map.

The Minority Report - In a future society, three mutants foresee all crime before it occurs. Plugged into a great machine, these "precogs" allow a division of the police called Precrime to arrest suspects before they can commit any actual crimes. When the head of Precrime, John Anderton, is himself predicted to murder a man whom he has never met, Anderton is convinced a great conspiracy is afoot

Full Books:

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Rick Deckard, a bounty hunter for the San Francisco Police Department, is assigned to "retire" (kill) six androids of the new and highly intelligent Nexus-6 model which have recently escaped from Mars and traveled to Earth. These androids are made of organic matter so similar to a human's that only a posthumous "bone marrow analysis" can independently prove the difference, making them almost impossible to distinguish from real people. Deckard hopes this mission will earn him enough bounty money to buy a live animal to replace his lone electric sheep to comfort his depressed wife Iran. Deckard visits the Rosen Association's headquarters in Seattle to confirm the accuracy of the latest empathy test meant to identify incognito androids. Deckard suspects the test may not be capable of distinguishing the latest Nexus-6 models from genuine human beings, and it appears to give a false positive on his host in Seattle, Rachael Rosen, meaning the police have potentially been executing human beings. The Rosen Association attempts to blackmail Deckard to get him to drop the case, but Deckard retests Rachael and determines that Rachael is, indeed, an android, which she ultimately admits.

Clans of the Alphane Moon - War between Earth and insectoid-dominated Alpha III ended over a decade ago. (According to the novel, "Alphane" refers to the nearest star to our own system, Alpha Centauri). Some years after the end of hostilities, Earth intends to secure its now independent colony in the Alphane system, Alpha III M2. As a former satellite-based global psychiatric institution for colonists on other Alphane system worlds unable to cope with the stresses of colonisation, the inhabitants of Alpha III M2 have lived peacefully for years. But, under the pretence of a medical mission, Earth intends to take their colony back.

Against this background, Chuck Rittersdorf and his wife Mary are separating. Although they think they are going their separate ways, they soon find themselves together again on Alpha III M2. Mary travels there through government work, Chuck sees it as a chance to kill Mary using his remote control simulacrum. Along the way he is guided by his Ganymedean slime mould neighbour Lord Running Clam and Mary finds herself manipulated by the Alphane sympathiser, comedian Bunny Hentman.

The Man in the High Castle - In 1962, 15 years after Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany have won World War II, Robert "Bob" Childan owns an Americana antique shop in San Francisco, California (located in the Japanese-occupied Pacific States of America), which is most commonly frequented by the Japanese, who make a fetish of romanticized American cultural artifacts. Childan is contacted by Nobusuke Tagomi, a high-ranking Japanese trade official, who is seeking a gift to impress a visiting Swedish industrialist named Baynes. Childan's store is stocked in part with counterfeit antiques from the Wyndam-Matson Corporation, a metalworking company. Frank Frink (formerly Fink), a secretly Jewish-American veteran of World War II, has just been fired from the Wyndam-Matson factory, when he agrees to join a former co-worker to begin a handcrafted jewellery business. Meanwhile, Frink's ex-wife, Juliana, works as a judo instructor in Canon City, Colorado (in the neutral buffer zone of Mountain States), where she begins a sexual relationship with an Italian truck driver and ex-soldier, Joe Cinnadella. Throughout the book, many of these characters frequently make important decisions using prophetic messages they interpret from the I Ching, a Chinese cultural import. Many characters are also reading a widely banned yet extremely popular new novel, The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, which depicts an alternate history in which the Allies won World War II in 1945, a concept that amazes and intrigues its readers.

Frink reveals that the Wyndam-Matson Corporation has been supplying Childan with counterfeit antiques, which works to blackmail Wyndam-Matson for money to finance Frink's new jewelry venture. Tagomi and Baynes meet, but Baynes repeatedly delays any real business as they await an expected third party from Japan. Suddenly, the public receives news of the death of the Chancellor of Germany, Martin Bormann, after a short illness. Childan tentatively, on consignment, takes some of Frink's "authentic" new metalwork and attempts to curry favour with a Japanese client, who surprisingly considers Frink's jewelry immensely spiritually alive. Juliana and Joe take a road trip to Denver, Colorado and Joe impulsively decides they should go on a side-trip to meet the mysterious Hawthorne Abendsen, author of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, who supposedly lives in a guarded fortress-like estate called the "High Castle" in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Soon, Joseph Goebbels is announced as the new German Chancellor.

Intermediate. (These are the books to pick up once you have the basics of what makes a PKD novel down. They’re obtuse enough to hit a little heavier, but don’t provide the full dose of surrealism Dick was capable of serving up. This is also good spot to jump in if you’ve experienced weird fiction before.)

Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said - The novel is set in a dystopian version of 1988, following a Second Civil War which led to the collapse of the United States' democratic institutions. The National Guard ("nats") and US police force ("pols") reestablished social order through instituting a dictatorship, with a "Director" at the apex, and police marshals and generals as operational commanders in the field. Resistance to the regime is largely confined to university campuses, where radicalized former university students eke out a desperate existence in subterranean kibbutzim. Recreational drug use is widespread, and the age of consent has been lowered to twelve. The black population has almost been rendered extinct. Most commuting is undertaken by personal aircraft, allowing great distances to be covered in little time.

The novel begins with the protagonist, Jason Taverner, a singer, hosting his weekly TV show which has an audience of 30 million viewers. His special guest is his girlfriend Heather Hart, also a singer. Both Hart and Taverner are "Sixes", members of an elite class of genetically engineered humans. While leaving the studio, Taverner is telephoned by a former lover, who asks him to pay her a visit. When Taverner arrives at her apartment, the former lover attacks him by throwing a parasitic life-form at him. Although he manages to remove most of the life-form, parts of it are left inside him. After being rescued by Hart, he is taken to a medical facility.

Waking up the following day in a seedy hotel with no identification, Taverner becomes worried, as failure to produce identification at one of the numerous police checkpoints would lead to imprisonment in a forced labor camp. Through a succession of phone calls made from the hotel to colleagues and friends who now claim not to know him, Taverner establishes that he is no longer recognized by the outside world. He soon manages to bribe the hotel's clerk into taking him to Kathy Nelson, a forger of government documents. However, Kathy reveals that both she and the clerk are police informants, and that the lobby clerk has placed a microscopic tracking device on him. She promises not to turn Taverner over to the police on the condition that he spend the night with her. Although he attempts to escape, Kathy confronts him again after he has successfully passed a police checkpoint using the forged identity cards. Feeling in her debt, he accompanies Kathy to her apartment block, where Inspector McNulty, Kathy's police handler, is waiting. McNulty has located Taverner via the tracking device the hotel lobby clerk placed on him, and instructs Taverner to come with him to the 469th Precinct police station so that further biometric identity checks can be performed.

Time out of Joint - Ragle Gumm lives in the year 1959 in a quiet American suburb. His unusual profession consists of repeatedly winning the cash prize in a local newspaper contest called "Where Will The Little Green Man Be Next?". Gumm's 1959 has some differences from ours: the Tucker car is in production, AM/FM radios are scarce to non-existent, and Marilyn Monroe is a complete unknown. As the novel opens, strange things begin to happen to Gumm. A soft-drink stand disappears, replaced by a small slip of paper with the words "SOFT-DRINK STAND" printed on it in block letters. Intriguing little pieces of the real 1959 turn up: a magazine article on Marilyn Monroe, a telephone book with non-operational exchanges listed and radios hidden away in someone else's house. People with no apparent connection to Gumm, including military pilots using aircraft transceivers, refer to him by name. Few other characters notice these or experience similar anomalies; the sole exception is Gumm's supposed brother-in-law, Victor "Vic" Nielson, in whom he confides. A neighborhood woman, Mrs. Keitelbein, invites him to a civil defense class where he sees a model of a futuristic underground military factory. He has the unshakeable feeling he's been inside that building many times before.

Confusion gradually mounts for Gumm. His neighbor Bill Black knows far more about these events than he admits, and, observing this, begins worrying: "Suppose Ragle [Gumm] is becoming sane again?" In fact, Gumm does become sane, and the deception surrounding him (erected to protect and exploit him) begins to unravel

Ubik - By the year 1992, humanity has colonized the Moon and psychic powers are common. The protagonist, Joe Chip, is a debt-ridden technician working for Runciter Associates, a "prudence organization" employing "inertials"—people with the ability to negate the powers of telepaths and "precogs"—to enforce the privacy of clients. The company is run by Glen Runciter, assisted by his deceased wife Ella who is kept in a state of "half-life", a form of cryonic suspension that allows the deceased limited consciousness and ability to communicate. While consulting with Ella, Runciter discovers that her consciousness is being invaded by another half-lifer named Jory Miller

Difficult. (This section comes with a caveat: within these novels you will encounter numerous hallucinations, drug trips, an entire trilogy about gnostic spirituality and mental illness, and more than a little unabashed nightmare fuel. It’s normal to get tangled up in what goes on in these books. It’s also normal to be weirded out. But with proper grounding, you’ll make it though with your faculties intact. Probably.)

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch - The story begins in a future world where global temperatures have risen so high that in most of the world it is unsafe to be outside without special cooling gear during daylight hours. In a desperate bid to preserve humanity and ease population burdens on Earth, the UN has initiated a "draft" for colonizing the nearby planets, where conditions are so horrific and primitive that the unwilling colonists have fallen prey to a form of escapism involving the use of an illegal drug (Can-D) in concert with "layouts." Layouts are physical props intended to simulate a sort of alternative reality where life is easier than either the grim existence of the colonists in their marginal off-world colonies, or even Earth, where global warming has progressed to the point that Antarctica is prime vacation resort territory. The illegal drug Can-D allows people to "share" their experience of the "Perky Pat" (the name of the main female character in the simulated world) layouts. This "sharing" has caused a pseudo-religious cult or series of cults to grow up around the layouts and the use of the drug.

Up to the point where the novel begins, New York City-based Perky Pat (or P.P.) Layouts, Inc., has held a monopoly on this product, as well as on the illegal trade in the drug Can-D which makes the shared hallucinations possible.

The novel opens shortly after Barney Mayerson, P.P. Layouts' top precog, has received a "draft notice" from the UN for involuntary resettlement as a colonist on Mars. Mayerson is sleeping with his assistant, Roni Fugate, but remains conflicted about the divorce, which he himself initiated, from his first wife Emily, a ceramic pot artist. Meanwhile, Emily's second husband tries to sell her pot designs to P.P. Layouts as possible accessories for the Perky Pat virtual worlds—but Barney, recognizing them as Emily's, rejects them out of spite.

A Scanner Darkly - When performing his work as an undercover agent, Arctor goes by the name "Fred" and wears a "scramble suit" that conceals his identity from other officers. Then he is able to sit in a police facility and observe his housemates through "holo-scanners", audio-visual surveillance devices that are placed throughout the house. Arctor's use of the drug causes the two hemispheres of his brain to function independently or "compete". When Arctor sees himself in the videos saved by the scanners, he does not realize that it is him. Through a series of drug and psychological tests, Arctor's superiors at work discover that his addiction has made him incapable of performing his job as a narcotics agent. They do not know his identity because he wears the scramble suit, but when his police supervisor suggests to him that he might be Bob Arctor, he is confused and thinks it cannot be possible.

Donna takes Arctor to "New-Path", a rehabilitation clinic, just as Arctor begins to experience the symptoms of Substance D withdrawal. It is revealed that Donna has been a narcotics agent all along, working as part of a police operation to infiltrate New-Path and determine its funding source. Without his knowledge, Arctor has been selected to penetrate the organization. As part of the rehab program, Arctor is renamed "Bruce" and forced to participate in cruel group-dynamic games, intended to break the will of the patients

(If this one seems difficult to wrap your mind around, that's because its a fictionalized account of real events, and you may need to read about Philip's life at the time to understand the autobiographical nature of the book.)

The VALIS Trilogy

(Fictionalized account of religious experiences in PKD’s life.)

VALIS - In March, 1974, Horselover Fat (the alter-personality of Philip K. Dick) experiences visions of a pink beam of light that he calls Zebra and interprets as a theophany exposing hidden facts about the reality of our universe, and a group of others join him in researching these matters. One of their theories is that there is some kind of alien space probe in orbit around Earth, and that it is aiding them in their quest; it also aided the United States in disclosing the Watergate scandal and the resignation of Richard Nixon in August, 1974. Kevin turns his friends onto a film called Valis that contains obvious references to revelations identical to those that Horselover Fat has experienced, including what appears to be time dysfunction. The film is itself a fictional account of an alternative-universe version of Nixon ("Ferris F. Fremount") and his fall, engineered by a satellite called valis. (The plot of the fictitious film Valis was that of Dick's then-unpublished novel Radio Free Albemuth.) In seeking the film's makers, Kevin, Phil, Fat, and David—now calling themselves the Rhipidon Society—head to an estate owned by popular musician Eric Lampton and his wife Linda. They decide the goal that they have been led toward is Sophia Lampton, who is two-years old and the Messiah or incarnation of Holy Wisdom (Pistis Sophia) anticipated by some variants of Gnostic Christianity. In addition to healing Phil's schizophrenic personality split, she tells them that their conclusions about valis (which Fat had previously termed "Zebra") and reality are correct, and more importantly, that we should worship, not gods, but humanity. She dies two days later due to a laser accident caused by Brent Mini. Undeterred, Fat (who has now resurged) goes on a global search for the next incarnation of Sophia.

Dick also offers a rationalist explanation of his apparent theophany, acknowledging that it might have been visual and auditory hallucinations from either schizophrenia or drug addiction sequelae.

Characters:

Phil (Philip K. Dick): Narrator (first person), science fiction writer, author of Man in the High Castle, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, and Three Stigmata.

Horselover Fat: Narrator (third person), a schizophrenic modality of Phil himself. (Philip in Greek means "fond of horses"; dick is German for "fat".)

Gloria Knudson: Suicidal friend of Fat's who Fat is unable to save.

Kevin: Cynical friend of Fat's whose cat died running across the street, based on K. W. Jeter.

Sherri Solvig: Church-going friend of Fat's, eventually dies from lymphatic cancer.

David: Catholic friend of Fat's, based on Tim Powers.

Eric Lampton: Rock star, screenwriter, actor, a. k. a. "Mother Goose"; a fictionalised version of David Bowie.

Linda Lampton: Actress, wife of Eric Lampton.

Brent Mini: Electronic composer, a fictionalised version of Brian Eno.

Sophia Lampton: Two-year-old child (personalised incarnation of Holy Wisdom within some variants of Gnosticism), said to be the daughter of Linda Lampton and valis and the "Fifth Savior".

The Divine Invasion - After a fatal car accident on Earth, Herb Asher is placed into cryonic suspension as he waits for a spleen replacement. Clinically dead, Herb experiences lucid dreams while in suspended animation and relives the last six years of his life.

In the past, Herb lived as a recluse in an isolated dome on a remote planet in the binary star system, CY30-CY30B. Yah, a local divinity of the planet in exile from Earth, appears to Herb in a vision as a burning flame, and forces him to contact his sick female neighbor, Rybys Rommey, who happens to be terminally ill with multiple sclerosis and pregnant with Yah's child.

With the help of the immortal soul of Elijah, who takes the form of a wild beggar named Elias Tate, Herb agrees to become Rybys's legal husband and father of the unborn "savior". Together they plan to smuggle the six-month pregnant Rybys back to Earth, under the pretext of seeking help for Rybys' medical condition at a medical research facility. After being born in human form, Yah plans to confront the fallen angel Belial, who has ruled the Earth for 2000 years since the fall of Masada in the first century CE. Yah's powers, however, are limited by Belial's dominion on Earth, and the four of them must take extra precautions to avoid being detected by the forces of darkness.

Things do not go as planned. "Big Noodle", Earth's A.I. system, warns the ecclesiastical authorities in the Christian-Islamic church and Scientific Legate about the divine "invasion" and countermeasures are prepared. A number of failed attempts are made to destroy the unborn child, all of them thwarted by Elijah and Yah. After successfully making the interstellar journey back to Earth and narrowly avoiding a forced abortion, Rybys and Herb escape in the nick of time, only to be involved in a fatal taxi crash, probably due to the machinations of Belial. Rybys dies from her injuries sustained in the crash, and her unborn son Emmanuel (Yah in human form) suffers brain damage from the trauma but survives. Herb is critically injured and put into cryonic suspension until a spleen replacement can be found. Baby Emmanuel is placed into a synthetic womb, but Elias Tate manages to sneak Emmanuel out of the hospital before the church is able to kill him.

Six years pass. In a school for special children, Emmanuel meets Zina, a girl who also seems to have similar skills and talents, but acts as a surrogate teacher to Emmanuel. For four years, Zina helps Emmanuel regain his memory (the brain damage caused amnesia) and discover his true identity as Yah, creator of the universe.

When he's ready, Zina shows Emmanuel her own parallel universe. In this peaceful world, organized religion has little influence, Rybys Rommey is still alive and married to Herb Asher, and Belial is only a goat kid living in a petting zoo.

In an act of kindness, Zina and Emmanuel liberate the goat-creature from his cage, momentarily forgetting that the animal is Belial. The goat-creature finds Herb Asher and attempts to retain control of the world by possessing him and convincing him that Yahweh's creation is an ugly thing that should be shown for what it really is. Eventually Herb is saved by Linda Fox, a young singer whom he loves and who is his own personal Savior; she and the goat-creature meet and she kills it, defeating Belial. He finally discovers that this meeting happens over again for everyone in the world, and whether they choose Belial or their Savior decides if they find salvation.

Characters:

Herb Asher: audio engineer

Rybys Rommey: mother of Emmanuel, sick with MS

Yah: Yahweh

Elias Tate: Incarnation of Elijah

Emmanuel (Manny): Yah incarnated in human form

Zina Pallas: Shekhinah

Linda Fox: singer, songwriter, Yetzer Hatov

Belial: Yetzer Hara

Fulton Statler Harms: Chief prelate of the Christian-Islamic Church (C.I.C), Cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church

Nicholas Bulkowsky: Communist Party Chairman, Procurator maximus of the Scientific Legate

VALIS: agent of Yahweh, disinhibiting stimulus

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer - Set in the late 1960s and 1970s, the story describes the efforts of Episcopal Bishop Timothy Archer, who must cope with the theological and philosophical implications of the newly discovered Gnostic Zadokite scroll fragments. The character of Bishop Archer is loosely based on the controversial, iconoclastic Episcopal Bishop James Pike, who in 1969 died of exposure while exploring the Judean Desert near the Dead Sea in the West Bank.

As the novel opens, it is 1980. On the day that John Lennon is shot and killed, Angel Archer visits the houseboat of Edgar Barefoot, (a guru based on Alan Watts), and reflects on the lives of her deceased relatives. During the sixties, she was married to Jeff Archer, son of the Episcopal Bishop of California Timothy Archer. She introduced Kirsten Lundborg, a friend, to her father-in law, and the two began an affair. Kirsten has a son, Bill, from a previous relationship, who has schizophrenia, although he is knowledgeable as an automobile mechanic. Tim is already being investigated for his allegedly heretical views about the Holy Ghost.

Jeff commits suicide due to his romantic obsession with Kirsten. However, after poltergeist activity, he manifests to Tim and Kirsten at a seance, also attended by Angel. Angel is skeptical about the efficacy of astrology, and believes that the unfolding existential situation of Tim and Kirsten is akin to Friedrich Schiller's German Romanticism era masterpiece, the Wallenstein trilogy (insofar as their credulity reflects the loss of rational belief in contemporary consensual reality).

The three are told that Kirsten and Tim will die. As predicted, Kirsten loses her remission from cancer, and also commits suicide after a barbiturate overdose. Tim travels to Israel to investigate whether or not a psychotropic mushroom was associated with the resurrection, but his car stalls, he becomes disoriented, falls from a cliff, and dies in the desert.

On the houseboat, Angel is reunited with Bill, Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia. He claims to have Tim's reincarnated spirit within him, but is soon institutionalized. Angel agrees to care for Bill, in return for a rare record (Koto Music by Kimio Eto) that Edgar offers her.

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer is one of Dick's most overtly philosophical and intellectual works. While Dick's novels usually employ multiple narrators or an omniscient perspective, this story is told in the first person by a single narrator: Angel Archer, Bishop Archer's daughter-in-law.

Characters:

Angel Archer: Narrator, manager of a Berkeley record store, widow of Jeff Archer.

Timothy Archer: Bishop of California; father of the late Jeff Archer and father-in-law of Angel. Dies in Israel, searching for psychotropic mushroom connected with Zadokite sect. Based on James Albert Pike, Dick's personal friend, who was an American Episcopalian bishop.

Kirsten Lundborg: Timothy Archer's secretary and lover. Dies from barbiturate overdose after loss of remission from cancer.

Bill Lundborg: Kirsten's son who has schizophrenia, and who is obsessed with cars.

Edgar Barefoot: Houseboat guru, radio personality, lecturer. Based on Alan Watts.

Jeff Archer: Son of Timothy Archer, and deceased husband of Angel. A professional student who was romantically obsessed with Kirsten.

Thank you, if you read all of this. it took me six hours today to write this all 

[redstarbonky]

a breakdown of zemo reacting to dr. nagel, or, >:3 face versus :| face

!!!this post is packed with spoilers!!!

we all know by now that zemo tends to wear his villainous >:3 face while interacting with sam and bucky. it's the face of a dude who's not very stressed out! but this expression goes away during the encounter with dr. nagel. in fact, the whole gadfly personality melts away like it was never there.

so here's a BUNCH OF WORDS ABOUT IT while MAXING OUT THE NUMBER OF PICTURES I'M ALLOWED TO HAVE PER POST

tagging @h-zemo because...*vague zemo gestures*

in the dockyard scene, zemo is the first to poke around enough to discover the secret door to nagel's lab. he's a man on a mission...and notably, sharon and the lads have elected not to give him a weapon

in this image he is looking at nagel, who is unaware of his presence. this is the face he wore through most of CA:CW, when he was mostly thinking about how superpeople destroyed his entire country and got his family killed, and how that is all the fault of captain america (sort of), the serum's first and most dramatic success

zemo doesn't even want superpeople to exist. you can imagine what he would think of the continued existence of the serum itself, let alone a person who knows how to make it

not coincidentally, he has this expression the entire time they're dealing with nagel. this is the face of desire to murder

sam has taken nagel gently hostage (sam is good ok?) and 'introduced' him: "this is baron zemo. i know you've heard of him, too, right?" zemo just looks like this and doesn't say anything...

nagel avoided looking right at bucky after initially seeing him (probably thinking that that's the winter soldier, likely known to the world after CA:CW as a dangerous person, an assassin, a terrorist). but he does stop to make eye contact with zemo before sam pushes him along.

in what capacity has nagel heard of zemo? the aftermath of the events of CA:CW? has zemo tried to kill nagel before? i don't want to read too much into the glance here, it can be read as straightforward simmering anger at the intrusion. but nagel looked pretty intently at zemo for the half-second he was allowed to. contrast to sam, whom he barked at immediately, and bucky, who made him freeze on the spot

i don't believe nagel is anything more than a plot point, especially because he's dead by the end of the scene. but would i be surprised if zemo had looked for nagel before? not at all

as sam leads nagel out of the work area, zemo follows...(bonus handsome sam profile in blur-o-vision, you're welcome)

and when bucky subtly threatens nagel with a shot that should have deafened all of them but hey it's television, sam flinches, but zemo just looks dispassionately

like this pic doesn't need to be a gif. he doesn't flinch, he doesn't move his eyes, he's just looking

then he wanders around and looks for a...let's call it 'security system.' because as mentioned before, sharon & co. chose not to give him a weapon. he finds it under the lab table. i believe this gun is what nagel was likely going for when telling sam to gtfo of his lab and starting to leave his work area. zemo was part of a kill squad. he probably knows common hiding places for weapons

zemo casually walks back out, looks at nagel, and seems conveniently positioned to fire the chekhov's gun in his left hand

(btw i don't believe for a second that there's no serum in the lab. i think nagel is just lying, badly, and banking on the three of them having no idea what the finished serum looks like. THEY ARE LITERALLY SURROUNDED BY BLUE VIALS FFS anyway getting off-topic 😶)

then sharon bursts in to tell them they need to hurry up, and zemo takes advantage of the distraction to shoot nagel dead

he has pretty much the same expression when sam and sharon pin him (sam even yells "NO!" for the illicit chemist because he's a grade-A good guy, while bucky wanders around short-circuiting. seriously watch that part again it's hilarious. he's "???😐????" while everyone else is ">:OOO")

we don't clearly see zemo's face again until after he's escaped the burning lab, blown up several dudes, and taken off his thanos cosplay/stunt double face hider/bank robber mask

with a serum creator and a serum lab totally obliterated, the >:3 expression returns, and he's back to his normal, quietly ridiculous, vintage car otaku self.

it's not even just that zemo is pissed off throughout the scene - he's tense. when his >:3 face comes back, it's because he's not stressed anymore!

big ups to daniel brühl for this piece of interesting acting, i'm sorry it COMPLETELY went over my head until i rewatched the episode

[deans-haunted-baby]

Dadstiel Shoulder Touch Analysis

I want to take some time to discuss something about this incredible father/son dynamic that I don’t think gets enough recognition. And that is their connection. A connection layered in so many different attributes yet primarily based on physical touch. Apologies this is going to be long. Despite my saltiness towards Supernatural as I feel the show squandered them during its run, I really love the amount of attention to detail that was put into Castiel and Jack’s relationship. It kind of has a Terminator inspired vibe going on which I can’t deny enjoying. The bodyguard and the future savior of mankind. And this bond was in development all the way back in season 12; long before Jack was born. 

During 12x19 it’s through his mother Kelly, that the son of Lucifer forges an emotional attachment with the trench-coated angel whom he imprints on to be his surrogate dad. From the moment Castiel puts his hand on her belly, and feels Jack, they instantly fall in love with each other. At first touch. Trusting each other completely without the slightest bit of doubt as they sense the other’s good aura. It’s a devotion unlike anything Cas has ever experienced in his millions of years. Even more than what he’s felt for Sam and Dean. And it happens before he and Jack even get to see each other. Their bond becomes intensely essential that it boosts Castiel’s grace, allowing him to protect Kelly and her son from Dagon as well as cause a rip in time and space.

After Jack is born and in the care of the Winchesters, scared, lost and confused yet curious as an infant in an adolescent body; the child wanders aimlessly searching for Castiel. All he wants in that moment is to be with Castiel because that is who he recognizes as his father. Missing him and needing to feel that same warmth, protection and compassion he felt from inside his mother’s womb. However, following the tragic circumstances that led to the angel’s unexpected death at the hands of Jack’s biological dad in 12x23, these two are forcibly separated in the beginning of season 13. Until Jack instinctively resurrects Castiel out of the Empty through his own will and desire alone at the very end of 13x03. Proving that no matter how far away they are, the tether between them can’t be broken.

These two don’t even need an introduction from Sam and Dean when 13x06 finally reunites them for the first time. Jack immediately knows who Castiel is going off on his mother’s memories. And their reunion comes so naturally. There’s no awkwardness, no hesitation or apprehensiveness emanating from the angel’s presence. Jack just walks right up to Cas, puts his arms around him and tells him how much he missed him. Its as if they’d never been apart. And afterwards they spend nearly the entire episode practically inseparable. Getting to know each other as father and son. And that goes without saying, while Jack did bond with the Winchesters in person first, there is no comparison to the Nephilim boy’s emotional attachment towards the angel.

This special relationship is very significant to both of them. Around each other they’re at their most happiest. Castiel is constantly at Jack’s side; and ALMOST ALWAYS tenderly touching him, namely his shoulders or protectively holding him by the arm and the child wholly reciprocates this. In Castiel’s gentle physical touch Jack is given a sense of security, solace, reassurance and comfort. Same as he’d had as an unborn baby. Not only is this the angel’s way of demonstrating his affection, empathy and devotion towards his son but this is actually how he non-verbally tells Jack that he loves him. Its purely unconditional. And this gesture isn’t one-sided as I will acknowledge later. Jack desires Cas’s tangible nearness as much as his dad does which is why they’re so magnetically pulled together in all of their scenes on the show. 

Even when they’re at conflict with each other or arguing, Castiel never fails to let Jack know that he’s always safe and loved. That he isn’t afraid of him. His son could be in pain, angry, or vengeful in the moment and Castiel’s affection for that child will never waver. He’ll endlessly put his own life at risk in order to reach Jack; who is far more powerful than he is via his archangel half. Like the convivence store scene in 13x23 when Jack attacks a civilian believing he’d killed his friend and Cas does his best to subdue him. Whether Jack wants it or not at the time, he needs his dad’s emotional support; and the angel can’t stand the thought of his son harmed or hurting. He’s easily saddened whenever Jack refuses his touch as shown in 13x21 when he was very upset over Sam’s temporary death and rips away Cas’s hand as he’s trying to console him.

Supernatural really emphasizes the powerful connection Castiel and Jack share using physical communication in nearly every one of their episodes. Its these wonderful details they do onscreen that illustrates the depth of love these characters have for each other. Unfortunately though, they didn’t get to interact much during season 13. Yet the small portions in their four episodes together is exceptionally substantial. While we’re on the subject, the shoulder touches are definitely a Dadstiel thing. It’s their signature sign of affection and theirs’s only. Don’t believe me, let me give you an example of a specific scene in 14x19 between Jack and Sam; which takes place in the aftermath of Jack’s accidental killing of the Winchesters’ mother Mary.

Dean and Sam conspire to trick and lock away the soulless infant Nephilim in a mystical coffin as punishment with the intention of finding a solution that will end his life. Sam is the reluctant main player in this scheme of using his influence over the child in order to gain his trust and sway him into his fate. Just before Jack’s about to be led to the room and put into the box, scared and uncertain, Sam then puts his hand on his shoulder telling him they need to keep him safe while giving him an awkward grin. And look at Jack’s expression as this happens. It reads shattered. He immediately knows something’s wrong. Sam is touching him just like Castiel…except this is nothing like Castiel. His dad’s shoulder touches are always so tender and loving. 

Jack can literally feel Cas’s devotion for him in every tangibility. But here he doesn’t feel that from Sam at all. Its cold, fearful and empty just like he is on the inside. Rendering him even more nervous. Speaking of season 14 the father/son content we get between Castiel and Jack is even better that year as its all about their relationship growing and strengthening into something far deeper than it was in the previous seasons 12 and 13. It’s the year their bond is put through the ultimate test. Where Jack is made human after Lucifer steals his grace and Cas dominantly steps into his role as a father.  

Providing Jack with a certain guidance, boundaries, and stability in episodes 14x01, 14x02, 14x03, 14x09 and 14x10 unlike what he’d received from Sam and Dean. Castiel takes on all the difficult tasks of parenting ranging from scolding to teaching his son about death, responsibility, self-restraint, patience and the tribulations of growing up. He doesn’t raise his voice ever when he speaks to Jack. And is completely there 100% for his son from the beginning…and the end of his life. Although Castiel is an angel he is very much a pivotal link to Jack’s humanity and vice versa as well as a link to his celestial side. While he greatly admires and looks up to the Winchesters, its through Cas’s influence that the infant Nephilim aspires to be a good person. 

Jack never wants to become the monster his biological father was; desperate to break out of that mold once in for all. And he isn’t alone. Castiel is right there with Jack every step of the way. Ready to challenge and encourage his son whenever he does something decent or makes a mistake. He doesn’t hesitate to tell his son when he’s proud of him. And sometimes he’s there to coddle Jack during times of crisis as displayed in the 14x09 showdown with AU!Michael where the angel takes a second to heal Jack’s minor facial wounds. I just love that tiny focal point of Cas in the background, as the Winchesters are talking, putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder before using his powers on him. As if to keep him calm; like a parent reassuring their nervous kid that it won’t hurt.

Throughout the first part of season 14 we’re blessed with so much affectionate Dadstiel moments like the after-the-battle angst talk in 14x01 where Castiel reminds a very frustrated Jack “you’ve got me” as he declares he has nothing. Or 14x08 after Jack’s death and they’re bittersweetly reunited in Heaven with Kelly; all smiles, touching shoulders and hugging each other as if they can’t bear to be separated. Followed with that heartfelt moment of Castiel tenderly touching his son’s cheeks, sadly looking at him with so much adoration, as he sends his soul back to his body. Then there was their unforgettable father/son pep talk in regards to the vulnerability of Jack’s soul; Castiel just gives his son’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he leaves the room. Again, this is how these two say “I love you”.

And I couldn’t very go in depth of this analysis without mentioning 14x20′s Jack death scene 2.0; Castiel helplessly touches his son, who’s screaming on the ground in agony, trying desperately to ease his suffering. Yah this was particularly very hard for me to watch witnessing Castiel going out of his mind, completely unable to save Jack from enduring such a painful end to his life. Once was already cruel enough on me. And of course 15x01 continued that vicious trend of Castiel harrowingly protecting his son’s corpse, carrying him over the shoulder in a fireman’s hold as he runs through the cemetery, then gently lays him down on the floor in a mausoleum. I get emotional watching Cas cradling Jack’s head as he positions him comfortably; letting his touch linger unable to let go. He doesn’t even care what happens to him in this moment as long as his son’s body is safe. Very strong symbolism of a parent who will never abandon their child long after they’re gone. 

On a side note I want to quickly call attention to how much I revere the Dadstiel healing parallels in 14x09 and 14x14 plus BONUS: Jack almost-killing Castiel in 15x13 so he can talk to Ruby in the Empty. These just add some nice little textures in their dynamic which compliments their ongoing tradition of showing devotion through physical communication. And both the healing scenes and the temporary death scene are composited very similarly. Focused on Castiel and Jack’s hands in the process of relieving the other’s pain/life. 

Touch is exhibited as being a very crucial element for both of these characters when it comes to their iron-clad relationship. That palpable part of Castiel and Jack’s connection keeps them closely-knit. Its their familial instinct and how they express their feelings for each other. If they aren’t kneading shoulders, the angel duo is often standing beside each other or firmly linked at the arms. And this usually happens during moments of extreme stress, joy, sorrow, pain or fear. Jack relies so much on Castiel’s parental presence. He respects his authority, disobeying only when his actions feel necessary, and will go to the angel whenever he wants to talk or vent. Jack is also comfortable with Castiel enough to confide his darkest secrets no matter how awful they are. That’s the foundation of the everlasting trust built between them. They’re just tethered to one another in such a way that nothing will divide them. 

I’ll begin with the hospital scene from 14x07 where Castiel is being the rock to his ailing son who can barely stand on his feet. There’s so much anxiety radiating off him in this moment as he struggles with watching Jack suffer; holding him so close. Staring at his face you can tell this horrible situation is ripping him apart. Actually, the entire episode is basically just Castiel silently enduring the pain of Jack dying.

The second set of screencaps underneath are of 14x10; Jack is agitated by AU!Michael’s antagonistic claims that his family’s love for him isn’t unconditional. Reading into one of his greatest fears. But then Castiel instantly calls out to his son, grabs the crook of his arm; gently reassuring him none of this is true. And Jack doesn’t resist this as he knows his dad is sincere. He never has to question Cas’s feelings towards him as his physical touch alone is self-explanatory. But when it comes to the Winchesters, that’s a whole other conversation.    

Next, we have one of my favorite emotionally-charged Dadstiel moments in 14x14; where in a fit of panic because the anti venom wasn’t working Jack, going against Castiel’s warnings not to risk burning off his soul, is compelled to use his powers to save his dad. And I love this because this time its Jack who’s the one initiating all the physical contact. Just as the recovered angel demands what he’s done, his son responds with a soft “you’re okay” and the “I love you dad” shoulder touch as well as firmly gripping his arm.  

Finally stepping away from season 14 I’m going to briefly go over the caps from season 15. Let’s begin with 15x11 the Dadstiel reunion scene at the church which is so beautifully poignant. Castiel is so overjoyed to see Jack alive that he takes a second to look over his equally stunned son, touching his shoulders before they embrace. This is by far one of Cas and Jack’s top father/son moments on the show and it’s done so effectively. If you want a more in-depth description for what I love about this scene, you can read my post about it here.

After that is the 15x13 Dadstiel moment where Castiel, suspicious of Jo’s story about the Occultum, had asked Jack to temporarily kill him in order to go see Ruby in the Empty. Two things I really like about this; 1. even though Jack still doesn’t have a soul, is very concerned about and protective over Castiel because of that deal. And 2. again Jack is initiating all the touching in this scene; look at the way he grasps his dad’s arm as he returns him to life. It’s almost as if he’s hoping the touch of his hand will not only speed up the process but also reach his dad so his essence isn’t lost forever.   

And then we have 15x17. We didn’t get much Dadstiel interaction in this episode but the amount of times Castiel protectively holds onto his agonized child, who’d been turned into a cosmic bomb about to go off any minute, having no regard for the danger he’s in is so visually gut-wrenching. There’s a specific moment in the scene where, as Sam and Dean are arguing, Castiel is sitting on the floor just clutching Jack tight. Trying to non-verbally soothe him.

And this is followed up in the first half of 15x18, aka THEIR VERY LAST EPISODE TOGETHER ever on Supernatural. Here is where everything about their connection comes full circle with Castiel refusing to abandon Jack no matter the situation. Demonstrating the extent of his devotion by willing to die for his child just as he’d sacrificed his happiness to save Jack from the Empty. Because that is his son and nothing not even death itself can ever destroy what they have. Much as the young Nephilim boy begs for his dad to stay away, yells that he doesn’t want to hurt him; Castiel kneeling to Jack’s eye-level doesn’t leave his side. Then when Jack disappears to the Empty and reappears back at the bunker reformed, Castiel’s hand remains firmly glued to his son’s shoulder. He doesn’t want Jack to feel afraid or traumatized any further.

This was such an intense part of the episode I mean just look at how stressed out these two were. The anguish in their expressions. Simply put, Cas and Jack cannot bare to live without the other. They’re each other’s home; two sides of the same soul. Castiel loves all of Jack; the good, the bad and the ugly. This is an EPIC father and son’s love that knows no bounds. So powerful and pure that it transcended the loss of Jack’s soul, Lucifer’s DNA, the Empty, Mary Winchester’s death and everything else in between. Oh, and guess what, their “I love you” Dadstiel shoulder touches aren’t limited to just their hands. Its in every single one of their hugs too.  

Notice how their chins or faces just comfortably rest on top of each other’s shoulders. And except for 14x20 their eyes are shut, as if to savor every single second of that closeness. Jack just buries himself against Castiel like he’s never felt safer with anyone else in the whole universe. And both of them hold each other; giving and receiving the other’s love with their whole self. Like I can’t even begin to describe how much Castiel and Jack’s softness towards each other just melts my heart. Their relationship, despite the horror tongue-in-cheek atmosphere of SPN, is surprisingly sweet, healthy and endearing. They are the epitome of true unconditional love and a great contrast to the Winchester brothers. In my humble opinion Castiel and Jack’s father/son dynamic is the best thing to happen to this show in a long while.

For the closing segment of this analysis I want to do something special before I discuss the paralleled-angst driven Dadstiel shoulder touches in 15x15 and 15x18. First off, I can’t shout enough praise from the rooftops about the insanely remarkable chemistry between Alexander Calvert and Misha Collins. Just brilliant casting. They embody these characters heart and soul and make this relationship feel so real, genuine and grounded. The fact that they look so similar in appearance really sells the idea that these two could actually be father and son. Forget the scripts, the quiet subtly these two bring to Castiel and Jack is the true magic of their relationship.

Let me start with the Dadstiel centric 15x15 aka THE BEST EPISODE of Supernatural season 15. This amazing masterpiece of art is everything I could’ve asked for and more; giving me so much precious father/son content that I will cherish forever. I really enjoyed seeing Castiel and Jack in those matching ties, bonding with each other over a case while they save the day. It’s a shame this show never let these two have more solo adventures together because they’re truly a joy to watch onscreen. Fingers crossed for that spinoff.

But I digress, the car scene in question happens at the very end of the episode in which Jack reveals the alarming truth that he has to die in order to stop Chuck and Amara. And Castiel, visibly and outspokenly distraught by this news, has to be assuaged with that infamous shoulder touch by his son; who’s in just as much pain. This is without a doubt one of most emotional scenes between these two characters out of the last three seasons of the show and quite possibly one of Misha and Alex’s strongest acting moments after the Dadstiel church reunion in 15x11. They killed it with the feels here. I like the attention to detail, the shadows and the colors in the shot, the melancholic score as well as how it seamlessly switches from Jack’s perspective to Castiel’s. Seriously watching this scene always makes me cry its so devastating.

 Lastly, we have the Dadstiel car scene in 15x18; and Castiel and Jack’s LAST ONE-ON-ONE together. I’m kind of disappointed by this if I’m being honest. Its not that its bad its just not that definitively great for a final scene between these characters. Especially after four seasons of development. Where are the stakes? Why don’t Jack and Castiel seem as concerned about their situation? Cute as that smile was it doesn’t fit the tone. And where’s that punch in the gut knowing something is going to separate these two any second? It’s too light and doesn’t come off like a goodbye or a cathartic bookend which is what I wanted to take away from the episode considering its title “Despair”.

I mean if they were going to follow up on that heartbreaking car scene at the end of “Gimme Shelter”, the 15x18 scene wasn’t the way to do it. So, the weight of this final interaction feels almost non-existent. Maybe if it had taken place at night and the dialogue solely focused on them not the Winchesters it would’ve faired better. But since this isn’t a rant post I’ll cut to the chase by saying that the only saving grace this moment has happens in the last part. Jack’s in tears telling his dad how scared he is that he can’t use his powers to protect anyone. Coming off very childlike and vulnerable; needing that parental protection that Castiel was always known for. And sure enough, he gives Jack that final “I love you” shoulder touch which I swear had me choked a little. 

Rethinking about it now that the show is over actually makes their final moment together really sad as incomplete as it is. I not only look back on how much these characters were drastically underutilized but how much the Dadstiel storyline could’ve been executed better with all the development that it was given. Well there you have it my full Dadstiel shoulder-touch analysis. Hope you’ve enjoyed!

[chemist-ana]

Chapter 14 The Flight— Sams POV

Book: The Nanny Affair

Characters: Sam, Ana Schuyler (MC), Mason and Mickey, Sofia

Pairing: Sam Dalton (male) x Ana Schuyler (MC)

Rating: 18+

Content Warning: NSFW, Sexual Language, Adult Language, Sexual Situations

A/N Shit starts to hit the fan for these two, I know that book 2 already started, but I have had some requests for this series to continue. I know Sam is in a weird place- and the next chapter I am going to really delve into his mind. Keeping this one a little light yall.

Summary: In the cold light of day, will you and Ana be able to face the consequences of your actions?

Word Count: 3919

Tag List:  @txemrn @secretaryunpaid @pixie88 @thefrenchiemama @sfb123 @mainstreetreader @shewillreadyou @choicesficwriterscreations @chrissythadon @somersetmummy @jerzwriter @shannonwrote @khoicesbyk @lady-calypso @melalicious8383 @chrissythadon

The car ride to the private terminal of JFK is long… and loaded with tension. I continue to glance at Ana who is studiously avoiding my gaze and has been for the entire week leading up to this trip. Her legs are curved up with a pair of high-heeled boots, a light floral sundress, complimenting her olive skin. Effortlessly beautiful...

We pull up on the tarmac and Carter opens our door. The boys jump out of the car, and Ana and I follow close behind, taking the stairs up into one of the  Dalton Enterprises jets.

“Dibs on the top bunk!” Mason calls out as he runs down the aisle towards the boy’s room in the back of the jet.

“No fair!” Mickey chases after him.

“There are bedrooms on this thing?” I hear Ana murmur to herself.

“Yes, ma’am. We’re equipped with every amenity you could possibly imagine.” Ana jumps in surprise as Ellie, my flight attendant, answers her.

“Really? Even a full-body massage?” Her lips spread.

I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my boylike grin as Ellie answers her. I will give you a full body massage.

“Thank you, Ellie. That will be all for now.” I tell her with a smile.

“Very good. I’ll go check on the boys. Push the call button if you need me.” She gives me a nod, and walks towards the back of the plane, disappearing from view.

Ana finally glances my way and I catch her eye, offering her a small smile as I sit down in one of the leather chairs.

“You look wonderful today. New outfit?”

She blushes but doesn't break her eye contact. “You know what they say… new country, new me.”

“I hope everything about you hasn’t changed… although I do like the new look.” She searches my eyes.

“Thank you.” She says as she sits down in a chair across the aisle from me, turning her gaze out of the window.

I let my eyes roam across her body before turning to the New York Times that is sitting on the table in front of me. I unfold it, desperate to alleviate even a little bit of the tension between us. If that means I need to give you space… I can try. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she opens up some sleazy tabloid magazine. I watch her eyes narrow as she becomes engrossed in a story, a line forming between her brow.

“What has you so absorbed over there?” I ask, breaking the silence. I wonder if that issue has our photo in it?

“Oh, nothing. Just some mindless reading.”

“I’m not sure there is such a thing.”

She turns her face towards me. “Sam, you’re talking to me now?”

I bite my tongue to stop a grin. “Last I checked, you were the one avoiding me. I’ve tried to talk to you several times over the last few days…”

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was busy getting ready for our trip.” Her tone was defensive as a hot color rose on her cheeks. Her eyes narrowed.

“I know. That's why I let it slide. But now that we’re stuck together for a while… Let’s just say, I asked Ellie to make sure the boys are otherwise occupied for the first leg of our journey.”

The scoffs. “What if I don't want to talk to you?”

“That’s certainly your prerogative. I won’t force you, Ana.” I keep my voice even.

She lifts the magazine to block me out and I shake my head slightly, turning my attention back to the newspaper.

“Ohmygod! Sam, have you seen this?”

That beautiful photo of you and me together in the gossip mags? Of course, I have… I have had dozens of news alerts since that night.

“I told you that you were a big hit that night. Even the press thinks so.”

“It’s a good thing they didn’t let cameras inside the gala. That could’ve been embarrassing.”

“Would it have been so bad? I’m not embarrassed about anything that happened that night.” It probably would have been bad for my image… but maybe it's the exact kick in the ass I need.

“... Aren’t you?” She gives me an incredulous look as she raises a sculpted brow.

“Absolutely not. I may regret how some things were handled after the fact… but nothing that happened that night. Or the night after, for that matter.” Even though I definitely acted like it… and continue to act like it. I haven’t given you a reason to believe a word I fucking say.

“Sam…”

I take a breath, standing up, and moving to the seat next to her before I can stop myself. I place my hand on hers, the familiar spark that has been present from the moment I first touched her, crackles between us. Her eyes roam my face and settle on my lips.

“... Ana?” I warn as heat starts to spread in my veins. I watch as her eyes darken and her tongue darts out to lick at her bottom lip. She reaches up and wraps her hands around the back of my neck, pulling my lips to within millimeters of hers.

“I want you.” She whispers

“If this is a trick to distract me from our talk-”

“It’s not. I just need you inside me.” She whimpers, cutting me off, her voice laden with desire. Her words send a shockwave through my body as I whisper a quiet curse and bring her lips to mine. I need to be inside of you. I coax her lips open with my tongue as we settle back into our seats. I tap my hand blindly, searching for the blanket I know is draped around the back of my chair. I grip the soft fabric when I find it, pulling it over our laps, sliding my hands under it, and running my fingers up the inside of the soft skin of her thighs. My lips drop to the delicate curve of her throat, eliciting a moan from her lips.

My fingers travel further up until I reach the apex of her thighs, my thumb pressing against her nub through the lace fabric of her panties. Her breathing gets shallow as I feel her body begin to tense. Without breaking our heated kiss she stands and sits on top of my lap, straddling my hips, effectively pinning my hand between her legs.

“That’s better.” She murmurs against my lips.

“So much for our security blanket.” I tease.

“Do you mind?” She asks me, leaning back slightly so she can see my eyes.

“Definitely not. The view is better like this.” I stare longingly across the curves of her body before I lean forward and pepper kisses along the exposed skin of her chest. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

She wraps her arms around my neck and grinds her hips into my hardened desire, she quivers at the contact.

“Oh, I am.” She purrs. She snakes her hand down and makes contact with my hard cock. I suck in a breath through my teeth at the sensation. “Is all this for me?” She smiles as she watches my expression of pleasure that is obvious on my face.

“Only you.” I answer, my voice husky.

She briefly halts her movement to unzip my jeans, reaching into my boxers to make direct contact with her soft palm. The sensation has me pumping my hips in time with her firm strokes, sending a moan falling from my lips.

“Mmm, I love that sound. But you’d better keep it down…” She teases, as her lips explore the planes of my cheek, her hips and hand still rubbing against me.

“Is that a challenge?” I growl at her. I slide my fingers past the delicate fabric and dip two fingers inside of her moist cunt. She bites her lip as her gaze grows dark and her body writhes. Her head falls back as she moans. “I bet I can make you come first…” I whisper into her ear, loving the way her body responds to my touch.

She slides her hand out of my jeans, leaning back slightly on my lap. Her eyes never leaving mine, she brings her palm up to her mouth, running her hand along her tongue. Her name falls from my lips as she sends waves of desire through my body. She reaches her hand back down, pumping harder and faster than she did before. I can’t help the moans that are escaping my lips as she works my cock like a pro. I close my eyes as I give into the sensation, my breathing growing ragged.

Desperate to watch her come undone, I focus my thoughts into adding another finger into her pooling wetness, using my thumb to press firmly against her clit. I reach my other hand up under her dress, finding and pinching her nipple into a firm peak. She moans my name, a surrender.

“I won't come until you do…” I whisper against her cheek, her ragged breathing hot on my neck.

We continue to move faster against each other. Her movements send me impossibly deeper and higher as I near the edge of my own release.

“That’s it, Ana. Come for me.” I whisper into her ear as her moans fill my ears. I watch her mouth fall open as her forehead falls to my shoulder. She bites my shoulder, hard, as she muffles her moans. Her body convulses and tightens around my fingers as she goes crashing over the edge in her orgasm. The feel of her body coming at my command sends me soaring over the edge with her as my eyes close and my head falls back. I moan her name as we find our release, together. We stay intertwined together as our breathing slows, her head still resting on my shoulder.

A few minutes later, she lifts her emerald eyes to mine.

“Call it a tie?” She says as a playful smile crosses her face.

I can’t help but laugh as I press a soft kiss to her lips. “Fair enough. But watch yourself, or I might demand a rematch.” I help her retake her seat in the plush leather chair beside mine, and I take a moment to button up my jeans and straighten my shirt.

“So… about that talk.” Her voice sounds small.

A wave of guilt and regret wash over me as I glance over at Ana and her fingers are knotted on her lap.

“What’re we going to do?” She asks quietly.

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have put you in such a terrible position.” I reach up and rub the back of my neck as my stomach drops.

“‘Terrible position’? Meaning… You’re still going to marry Sofia. Even after we...” Her voice sounds so sad… and I want to tear at the ache in my chest as the realization hits me. I have no choice…

“Yes. I… I have to.” My eyes search hers as I see them start to shine with unshed tears.

“You don’t have to do anything. You could grow up. Are you ever going to take responsibility for your part in all of this?” Her voice is angry now as her lips settle into a thin line.

“You’re right. I haven’t been stepping up like I should. But I’m trying to change that now. And this engagement… it’s my way of trying to take responsibility for the boys’ sakes.”

“The boys? What do they have to do with this?”  Her eyes widen.

“Everything. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me and Sofia, but the arrangement was our parents’ idea. A way to merge our families and companies.”

“Because it's the 19th century again?” She says with contempt.

“Something like that. But I’ve known Sofia forever, and I already married for love once… At the time, the engagement seemed like the right move.” I never thought I would meet another woman that would floor me the way you do.

“A way to secure a legacy for Mason and Mickey.” Her face drops at her realization.

“Exactly. After everything they’ve been through with their mom and previous nannies, I felt like they needed a stable, motherly presence in their lives. My dad is officially stepping down as CEO after the merger, and I’ll take over for him, as long as everything goes as expected. It was the perfect plan. But then…” I trail off as the words I long to say hurt too bad to say out loud… I met you.

“Then you met me.”

I nod as I watch her sink further into the chair.

“If I don’t marry Sofia, I’d lose everything. It'd be an easy decision if I only had myself to think about. But if Robin takes over the company, Mason and Mickey would lose everything too. And Dalton Enterprises… it’s their birthright.” It’s in their name, they are destined to run this company… if I can’t be there as their father, I need to give them the one thing I have worked so hard to give them.

“Sam, have you talked to your dad about this? Maybe if you just explain…”

My mind wanders back to the conversation I had with my father… “Women like your nanny are only good for one thing…”

I shake my head, controlling the grimace that threatens to cover my face. Time for a white lie…

“We have talked about it. As much as he likes you, he’s convinced Sofia is the better match. He won’t change his mind.”

She hesitates, her eyes focused on her hands before she takes a deep breath. “In that case, I think we should take a step back. You’re engaged. You're going to marry Sofia. Until that changes, we can't keep going the way we have been.”

My stomach sinks further as she turns her face towards mine. I hate being the one that has made you so sad…

“Of course… if that’s what you want, I’ll respect your wish. I suppose I should stay by sitting over there, huh?” I gesture to the other side of the plane and she gives me a small, sad smile.

“Yeah, that might be best.”

I stare at her for one more moment before retreating back to the other side of the jet. I see her turn and face the window out of the corner of my eye and I tip my head back onto the headrest. What am I doing, and why does this feel so wrong?

***

The flight passes by slowly as the tension lingers between Ana and me. When we finally land in Italy we make the long drive up to Sofia’s family villa that is nestled in the middle of wine country. I watch as Ana stares absentmindedly out of the window and my chest tightens.

“I’m so tired, I can barely think straight.” She frowns as she steps out of the SUV, shielding her eyes from the bright sun.

“Ana, you can take a nap while me and Mason go to the beach!” Mickey shouts as he jumps out.

“Nice try, Mickey, but there are other adults who can watch you while Ana rests.” I tousled his hair.

“Can’t blame a kid for trying…” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Dad, will you take us to the beach?” Mason asks with a smile.

“At some point, definitely. But we should check in with our hosts before we make any plans--”

“Is that my boo-bear I hear?” Sofia shouts as she emerges from the front door. I bite my tongue. God, I hate that nickname.

Sofia walks up and greets everyone with a kiss on each cheek.

“You’re finally here! Welcome to our humble abode.” She stretches her arms out and gestures to the estate. “Ana, that dress is divine. I was worried that… Never mind, you’ll fit right in.” Sofia glances quickly at Ana before turning her back and moving towards the door. “Come in, come in. It won’t do for the neighbors to see us standing outside all day.”

“But Aunt Sofia, there aren’t any other houses around…” Mason scrunches up his face in confusion, but Sofia just waves her hand dismissively as she continues walking away from us.

“I’ll just give you a quick tour so you don’t get lost-”

“Can we start with the pool?” Mickey shouts as he runs by her.

“Mickey! Wait for me!” Mason chases after him, pulling his suitcase behind him. They both stop beside the pool, opening their suitcases and digging around, removing every last piece of packed clothing from inside. I bite back a smile as I watch Sofia’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance.

“Ana, aren’t you going to do something about this?”

“Actually, as their future stepmom, maybe you should.” Ana shrugs her shoulders.

Sofia huffs and looks at Mason and Mickey.

“This oughta be good…” Ana whispers as she leans in close to me.

“I’m almost afraid to look.” I flash her a smile.

“You two, stop it right now and clean up this mess!” Sofia shouts at them as she places her hands on her hips.

“No thanks!” Mason doesn’t even look up from trying to find his swimsuit.

“Target acquired, Admiral Mason!” Mickey celebrates as he lifts a super soaker over his head in victory. Where the hell did that come from?

“How did they sneak that into their luggage?” Ana says with surprise.

Mickey quickly fills the water gun in the pool and points and shoots it all over Mason as he shouts.

“Boys! Enough!”

I jump slightly as Sofia shouts, her face twisted in anger. The boys turn towards Sofia, their fingers still pulling the trigger on the guns, sending a water stream shooting onto Sofia’s face.

This. Is. Priceless.

“Sorry!” Mickey shouts, immediately putting the water gun to his side.

“Alright, I think that’s enough. Boys, clean up your clothes right now.” Ana steps forward, clearly fighting back a laugh.

“Yes, Ana…” Mason looks down at the pile of clothes, kneeling down to put it all back inside of his suitcase.

“I really didn’t mean to spray you, Aunt Sofia. I was aiming for Mason.” Mickey looks at Sofia.

“...I accept your apology.” Sofia chimes as her face softens.

“Maybe we should let them blow off some steam after being cooped up in the place for so long.” Ana turns to me and I glance down at her.

“Good thinking. Let’s take this tour away from the pool…” I glance down at the boys who have their suitcases zipped and by their sides.

Sofia leads us to the back patio

“Wow. I could get used to this.” Ana says quietly as she places her hands on the railing, overlooking the rolling hills.

“It’s a stunning view.” I step up next to her.

“And it’s the perfect place to play hide-and-seek.” Mickey’s eyes grow wide as he looks around the rows of grapes in the vineyard.

“Not it!” Mason shouts as they start to run towards the rows of vines, but Sofia steps into their path causing both of them to slide to a stop.

“The vineyard is not for recreation. It’s a Russo subsidiary.” Her eyes are wide.

I roll my eyes.

“What does that mean?” Mickey looks up at her.

“It means little boys shouldn’t play hide-and-seek in it.” She crosses her arms across her chest.

“Sofia, be reasonable. The boys won’t hurt the vines, and they could use the chance to run around a bit.” I take a step towards her meeting her gaze.

“But these varieties take years to grow to fruition. One misstep and-”

I know you are worried about your dad, Sof. Let it go.

“Please, Aunt Sofia!” Mason shouts, bringing his hands together to plead.

“We promise we won’t touch any grapes!” Mickey widens his eyes.

“And if anything does happen, I’ll make sure your father knows it was my fault.”

“But nothing will. Sam and I will make sure of it.” Ana steps up by my side and I glance down at her quickly. Sofia looks between Ana and me.

“Very well. On one condition…”

“What?” Mason asks.

“...I’m not ‘it’ either!” Sofia smiles a genuine smile.

“You’re gonna play too? Not it!” Ana smiles as she dances backward from the group, putting space between herself and all of us.

“Not it!” I shout making my way towards the vines and look down at Mickey. His lips spread into a sly smile.

“Whatever, I’m the fastest anyway.”

“This planter will be home base. You can’t get tagged while you’re touching it.” Mason points to a pot on the patio.

“Yeah, yeah. But first… you all have to hide!” Mickey turns his back to the vines and closes his eyes as he starts counting. Everyone scatters to find a hiding spot. I head into the vines, finding a place between a trellis and I hear Mickey shout.

I sit quietly until I see Mickey pass by me. As soon as he is out of sight, I emerge from my hiding spot, making a straight shot to the planter. When I turn around I see Ana running towards me with Mickey hot on her heels.

“Come on, Ana! I’ve got you!”

“Not if I get you first!” Mickey shouts gaining on her.

I reach out and grab Ana’s hand, pulling her powerfully into my arms. Her chest rises and falls with her breath.

“Safe!” She giggles, the sound sending warmth surging through me.

“... For now. I’ll get you next time.” Mickey smiles.

“We’ll see about that.” Ana jests.

“Sofia and Mason are still out there… Unless you want them to win.” I look at Mickey.

“Never!” He shouts as he turns and runs back into the vines.

“Don’t you think Sofia might see?” Ana whispers.

I look down as I realize I still have my arms firmly around Ana’s body.

“Right, of course. Sorry.” I shake my head slightly as I let my arms fall to my side, but I don’t step back. She looks up at me and her emerald eyes shine in the bright sunlight.

“Thanks for saving me.” She clears her throat with a smile.

“Any time. I-”

I jump when a triumphant shout comes from the vines. I turn and see Sofia walking with Mickey and Mason towards the patio.

“I got Aunt Sofia!” Mickey raises his fist in the air.

“She was talking on her phone! I saw the whole thing!” Mason pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Nice one, Mickey.” Ana gives him a high five.

“I had to take the call! They didn’t know I was in the middle of a game.” Sofia’s eyes are wide as she comes to a stop and places her hands on her hips.

“Sounds like he got you fair and square, Sofia.” I give her a crooked smile and she sticks her tongue out at me.

“Which means that you’re it.” Ana cheers as she starts backing towards the vines.

“Very well.” Sofia closes her eyes and starts counting loudly. I turn and make my way back into the vineyard to hide. I glance over my shoulder and I see Ana watching me as I turn down a row. I flash her a wink. Follow me. But she doesn’t.

In fact, she avoids me for the rest of the day. My mind races as the reality of our situation really hit me. What are you going to do Dalton?

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #12: Cadenza: Bucky Barnes

In which Bucky can’t just go to sleep, like a normal person. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), public sex acts, fingering. Insert Diplomat Here, silk dresses, the opera, Bucky’s magic metal fingers.

Notes: Back to Marvel today! This is a little scenario I’ve had dancing around in my head for a while. Lots of fun, definitely a little on the fluffy side. My apologies in advance to Sam Wilson. 

Kinktober Masterlist

You’re at the Viennese Opera when Bucky decides he’s had enough of the mission.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” His breath ghosts over your neck as he leans close to whisper into your ear, fanning the soft tendrils of your hair against the tender parts of your jaw. Once upon a time, your hair was swept into a perfect updo- not so much, after two hours in this godforsaken box.

You’re just lucky that the two of you even have a private box, so that Bucky’s near-constant whispering isn’t met by an onslaught of glares from the audience below. The audience, that holds their coughing like they do their applause.

“Security,” you whisper, jutting your chin toward the box across the way, where Insert Diplomat Here sits with his wife and two pairs of gilded binoculars. And Sam, who drew the short straw and sits alone behind them. Every so often you point your own binoculars toward the box and catch him glaring across at you.

You don’t envy him.

“I thought you were supposed to understand what’s going on,” you continue, smirking to yourself. Bucky deadpans.

“I speak Italian, not opera.”

You give a little shrug, pursing your lips as if there’s a difference. He scoffs and leans in. His metal hand- surprisingly warm- lands on your knee. It’s bare, thanks to the high slit in your gown. You’re tempted to slap it away, but you leave it there. For now.

“It’s pretty dark in here, huh?” His voice drops to a suggestive register and suddenly he’s leaning closer than he needs to, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear and letting his words vibrate straight down the back of your neck.

“Not dark enough,” you quip. This time you do push his hand away, but he’s not completely thrown off the scent. He lets out a snort, a quiet little rumbling chuckle, and then he’s on you again.

“C’mon. You can’t just walk around lookin’ like that and expect me not to have some ideas.” His metal thumb is smoothing just under the edge of your skirt and you lick your lips despite yourself.

“Baby,” he purrs, bold enough to nip at the corner of your jaw, “I’m bored.”

You jump, but swallow your voice hard.

“Just go to sleep,” you retort. “Like a normal person.”

He doesn’t like that idea very much. His hand crawls further up your thigh. Nervously, you think about letting him get what he wants. The railing that surrounds your box is high enough that your laps are hidden. To an innocent onlooker, it looks like he’s just reached over to take your hand.

“When was the last time I got to see you in a silk dress, hmm?” He continues. He can tell that you’re starting to break, because his voice has gone absolutely feral and he’s not shy about brushing his scruffy chin against your ear.

“Bucky,” you sigh, letting your head fall back against the chair.

“That’s my girl.” He slides his hand under your dress, and you part your legs as far as you dare to. To your surprise, he doesn’t go right for your underwear. He takes his time crawling his way up your thigh, exploring the skin with the sensitive touch-receptors woven into his new prosthetic.

“Y’know,” he whispers, “I always knew you had a thing for my arm.”

You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. His thumb brushes the spot where your thigh meets your hip. You bite your lip, saying nothing.

He’s right, though. Once upon a time, it was a curiosity. But as the two of you grew closer and the lines between friend and lover bled together, so did your curiosity bleed into fascination.

There’s something tantalizing about the smooth surface of it, the clean lines. It’s a marvel of engineering- and the fact that he can feel you with it is all the more appealing.

In fact, he’s feeling you right now.

He draws a sharp breath, sucking his teeth as his thumb brushes at the silky fabric between your legs. You’re already warm and damp with desire, the fabric of your thong gone soft and pliable. Maybe he’s been staring at you in your gown all night, but you’ve had the unmatchable pleasure and pain of having to see him in that suit.

Tony Stark had no right, sending him to a tailor as accomplished as that. Bucky doesn’t wear his hair pulled back very often, either, but there it is. That little bun at the nape of his neck that drives you absolutely insane.

Bucky’s got his face buried in the crook of your neck as he nudges the silk of your underwear aside. Then his warmed fingers dip into your slit. You feel him start.

“Shit,” he mutters into your skin. “Fuckin’ soaked, baby.”

His dirty language feels too sinful for such an auspicious place, but you try to remind yourself that the performers are probably singing about lewder things, buffered by a language that nobody in the room understands.

He’s not wrong, either.

Bucky presses one finger attentively forward. You purse your lips because this is really fucking happening. The joints of his hand are smooth and seamless with little more tooth to them than a ribbed condom. For your pleasure.

He pumps his finger in and out a few times and you slump a little lower in your seat. One hand keeps the folds of your skirt draped firmly over his wrist. The other slides to the back of his seat, gripping gently to keep yourself stable while he settles into a rhythm.

It’s not long before you’re a panting mess and he’s sliding another finger into you, quickly establishing his rhythm all over again. Just when you’re sure you can’t get more out of this, he crooks his thumb and presses it to the swell of your slit.

This is where the magic happens. Bucky has impossible coordination. You’re not sure where it came from or how he figured out that he could apply it here, but it’s the simple truth. The way he can keep his thumb circling your clit while his fingers strum harmoniously inside you is borderline miraculous.

He gets you there in record time given the circumstances. As the music below swells to a dramatic climax you bury your mouth in his hair and pant through your orgasm, shaking and whining and keening into his diligent fingers. It passes as quickly as it comes on, and his wrist slows to a gentle stop as you slump against his side, spent.

Effervescent applause bursts from the audience beneath you. The celebration feels entirely appropriate, even though you know it’s got nothing to do with you. The performance continues. You straighten up one limb at a time and he draws his fingers from your body. He takes one careful moment to tug your underwear back into place. Then he’s settling back into his own chair, vaguely examining his gunmetal fingers in the low light.

He lifts them to his lips and you avert your eyes, distracting yourself by raising your binoculars again and peering across the hall to check in on your client.

Instead, you’re met with Sam’s traumatized expression, staring back across at you with his eyes wide, jaw hanging open.

“Uh oh,” you mutter, dropping the binoculars and squinting instead.

“What?” Bucky turns to you. He’s obviously finished with his hoer’s d’oeuvre, because he’s wiping his hand idly across the thigh of his pants now. Internally, you pout. That poor suit…

“Nothing,” you press. You settle against his side, turning your attention to the actual stage for the first time all night.

Come intermission, you’re dead. Both of you.

Might as well enjoy the performance while you still can.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

¤~°Ghost Marriage: Lovely Bride To Be?!°~¤ Finale!

Previously...

Before the door closed, (Y/N) asks them something. "Can I please have something to eat? I haven't ate in a few hours."

Present Time.

It was now close to night after all the arguing of students had disbursed. Finally all agreed with Crowley and his raffle idea on who the grooms should be.

Once all of the participants names were in the Headmasters hat. He shakes his hat around a few times and stops. Carefully pulling out a name a few names. Crowley coughs and clears his throat. The crow announced the lucky four grooms for operation "Lovely Bride To Never Be".

"Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier, Riddle Rosehearts and Ace Trappola!" Headmaster Crowley yells over the quiet teens. Gasps and groans filled Sam's shop. Yet no know decided to go against their headmasters choice. Grim doesn't even bother to question why the crow had choose them.

The four grooms step in front of their peers as Crowley starts talk with Sam. Not seeing the jealous eyes directed at his winners. To which they gave calm or smug expression. (*Cough* Epel and Ace, *Cough*.)

So the headmaster buys the items they needed for the operation. Not knowing that nightfall was closing in. "Considering that the time we have left until the wedding, this is our last chance. If this plan fails.. (Y/N) will lose her life!"

The four chosen teens gulp at the thought. The kind hearted prefect will die they do not succeed. They will not let that happen! "Since the ghost groom is in a suite. You shall also wear formal attire, or act like a prince, if you don't you will be not seen as a challenger."

Crowley gives the four grooms the things they needed. All the while Ortho had hacked into the security cameras to show to his peers. Standing outside, the students that weren't excepted all crowed around to see the footage. Once the boys are done changing. Stuck in formal wear, handsome as ever.

Their peers, friends, gave compliments and snide remarks. Cater takes a couple of photos and posts it on his Magicam. Tagging it, #Ghost groom, #Saving (Y/N) from Ghost groom and #Tuxedos! "The wedding ceremony is approaching now, the servant ghosts must be on high alert. Please be ready when the time comes!"

The four grooms nod. "No problem. I'll prove I'm the most suitable person to become the groom!" Riddle said with determination in his eyes and voice. "Oui, me as well."

"I'll reach out to her with words of love if my sincerity gets to her, then she will understand my feelings." Rook remarks with spark in his green eyes too. Epel joins in too with his seniors. "I'll save and catch her heart!" Ace agrees along with them, "yeah! Let's succeed in this plan in a instant!"

_____________________________________________

It was now night time and the three grooms had arrived to the gates of NRC. "Epel is late, it's already time to go..." Riddle said with uncertainty in his tone. "Did he get cold feet or something?" Ace asked to the two seniors.

"Non, non. Monsieur Crabapple would never wimp out, especially if it's for Madamonsieur (Y/N) of all people." Rook smiles without a care. "He'll be here soon..." "GUYS!!" It seems the fourth groom has arrived. "What took you so long.. Long."

Ace snark words die in his mouth before they could even come out. Grim, (who had decided to come with the grooms,) eyes widen at how fast Epel was coming towards them. The loud gallops of a horse draw near and nearer. "Sorry about the wait!" Epel says as he looks down at Ace and his seniors.

"It took me longer than I thought to get ready." His steed neighs after his words. Ace looks at Epel with astonishment and confusion. "Why are you on a horse exactly!!?!" Epel returns Ace confusion, "eh, why, because... Isn't prince charming supposed to make his entrance riding a horse. Right?"

"Do prince's even still do that!?" Ace turns to his seniors, "dorm head, Rook, you agree right!?" Rook was strangely quiet as he addressed his dormmate. "Epel... Your initiative, critical thinking, determination and preparation are astounding and very très bein!!" Rook applauded at Epel's effort.

Riddle could agree with his fellow senior. "You're even riding the most ornery horse in the equestrian club." The redhead pointed out with pride. "They're listening to you very well, you'be got a Mack for handling horses." Epel bashfully smiles at their praise, thmaking the two.

Ace interrupts the three by asking how they were gonna get inside. The Heartslabyul dorm leader tells him to quit his whining as Rook tells them that the wedding was starting in three hours. "How did I end up in the wrong?!" Ace asked, mostly to himself. "Ok.. Let's go! OPEN UP!" Epel yells.

One of the guard ghosts had heard the racket and sees the four, plus the horse and Grim. "Good evening, we've come here to win the beautiful brides hand in marriage." Rook said to the ghost. "Suitors and challengers, huh.. His highness will not be pleased to know of this, and so close to the wedding as well... I shall not let you through! Take your leave!"

Epel smirks, "are you sure? You're going to regret turning us away." The lavender haired boy chides. "What? You seem very confident." The gaurd sighs at the persistent suitors. "... Fine, I'll be the judge."

"Pretend I'm his highness bride and show me how you plan to propose! I will let you through the gate if you prove your feelings are ture." The ghosts remarks, waiting for one of the suitors to propose. "Guess we gotta do what he says if we wanna get through the door." Ace said with clear unpleasantness.

"... *Ahem!* Please allow me to go first!" Epel said with a hint of timidness in him. "Go ahead, show me your heartfelt proposal!" The ghost replys back. Epel starts to speak. "I will... Make her the happiest bride ever."

"Because whenever the person I love is in trouble. I'll come to their rescue, like a knight in shinging armor! Whatever happens along the way, I'll get (Y/N) through it all- er! I mean YOU through it all. Just like you had done for me! I will be the one to protect you from all harm."

"So, I am asking for your hand! I implore you. Please marry me!" Epel said with such emotion. Not knowing of the cameras that had captured all of it. Nor would any of the others know when it came to their time to propose.

The guard ghosts eyes widen, "your expression is totally serious... And you're even on a white horse! Like a true prince!!" Ace sighs, "the horse.. So I really was wrong?" The ghosts asked if Ace was a servant to Epel, Ace said no.

"Oh, so you're a suitor? Very well. Let's see how you'd propose." Ace gave a cheeky grin as he starts. "If you marry me, there's no doubt in everyday will be filled with fun."

Ace words grow softer as he continues, his eyes turn a bit nostalgic. "There might be times we argue or fight but... I'll always be the one to apologize. I'll be by your side through thick and thin and always work to make you smile."

"That makes me the best for the princess. So... Don't lay your eyes on anyone else, please marry me!" The ghost nods after Ace had finished. "Your desire to make your partner happy is bright as day! You're the real deal." The ghost then apologized to Ace for mistaken him as a servant.

"That was a decent proposal." Riddle said with a coy smile with amusement. "Hey, could you knock it off with that reaction? I'm just saying my lines!" Riddle's face doesn't change in the slightest.

"You say that but I'm sure that you put real thought into it." Grim goes along with Riddles teasing. "Nyahaha, Ace is trying to act all cool, y'know." The furrbal laughs at Ace, "shut up!" Riddle's teasing look turns into a confident one, "it was just like you Ace, but unfortunately, the princess is going to choose me!"

The soldier ghost points at Riddle. "Alright, you're up next. Show me your moves!" Riddle complied as he began his proposal. "I vow to be honest and sincere!"

"I promise to never hurt the person I love. If it's for my princess, I'll put everything on the line. I humbly request... Won't you choose me as your groom?" The ghost was speechless, uttering a "oh's" and "oh my".

"You seem so reliable and gallant... Even my heart is all a flutter." The ghost said in awe at the red headed groom. "Yeah it was so cool, Senior Roseheart..!" Ace agrees with his tuxedo buddy, "dorm leader got game too, huh?"

Riddle goes very quiet after his turn. "... Th-*ahem* that is enough out of all you all." The Roseheart male turns his head away so none of the group could see his pink cheeks. "The three of you were marvelous. It's my turn next." Rook spoke up as ghost gave him a look.

"The bar's been raised pretty high. A half-hearted proposal isn't going to cut it all!" The ghost declared to Rook, who just smiled and nodded. "You are truly beautiful, please allow me serve you for evermore. May I present a poem of all my feelings for you who has been watched under my eyes for months..."

"I wish to bring warmth to your cheeks, my dear. Long have your eyes only shed lonely tears. Oh, can they even see the happiness you bring to me and others around you. Vibrant is the live blooming in our rendezvous. Ever so gently, let me take your face to rest upon my hands. Under my care, may your lovely (e/c) eyes gaze ever sparkle with hope and romance."

"Woah.." The two first years said in sync, with awe and disgust. Riddle reviewed Rooks oddly embarrassing poem in his head. "Hold on! Read his poem vertically!"

Riddle explained that Rooks poem spelled. I LOVE U.

Rook congratulates Riddle on figuring it out. The ghost was surprised at the last suitor. Telling them they were very interesting challengers for his prince. The a pair of unfamiliar eyes watched them up above. Elias called his guards to go outside to the gates.

"The bride must have her friends here as well!"

_____________________________________________

(Y/N) tries her best to keep calm as she stuffed her face with cake. Taking off one of her gloves, she used it to smear off some of the crumbs off her cheek as a napkin. She puts her glove back on and stabs her fork in a glop of frosting. "*Ahem*!" A cough rings out in her "changing room.

The (h/c)-nette looks up from her food to see the ghost nanny. "My dear lady, it's time to go the wedding hall." Nanny ghost said happily. (Y/N) nods, bringing her herself to stand. Patting down her outfit to make sure crumbs weren't stuck to it.

The nanny ghost fixes her tiara and takes her arm into his. He smiles at her gently, like a grandfather giving his daughter her first pat on the head. The two walk out of the room in arm and arm. Heading to the cafeteria or the "alter". He then lets go of her before she walked down the aisle, flying off to one of the seats.

The "bride" walks over to the alter, but her "groom" was nowhere in sight. (Y/N) shifts in her place awkwardly as the ghosts chatter. She shifts around her bouquet and looks at the flowers. Stephanotis, Peony, Rose, and Lilly's. Her mind tires to remember the meanings, but her thoughts were interrupted when the ghost prince floats in.

The guest grow silent as music starts to play in the background. Elias smiled widely as his little ghost pals fly around him. "I'm so sorry my dear princess, I hadn't noticed the time." Elias said sadly as little tears well up in his eyes. (Y/N), feeling bad for him even though in her odd circumstances, told him it was all good.

"Oh! I forgot to mention, your friends are on their way here. You didn't tell me you were bringing your guests as well?" Elias tells her with innocent confusion. (Y/N) felt sweat drip off her back as guilt and happiness wash over her.

"They're comin-!" Her sentences wasn't even finished yet before her friends arrived. Riddle, Ace, Rook and Epel all wore nice suits while Grim was being held by a ghost soldier! Her friends were bound in ropes as they tried to get out of them. "Release us!"

Riddle demand with anger, "watch your tongue!" A soldier shouted at the hot-temperted red head. "Guys!" The "bride" yells in fear. The group looks at (Y/N) and are all stunned by her appearance.

She wore beautiful wedding attire, but the look on her face did not gleam like her outfit. "Why are they-!" "They were causing a ruckus, saying they were here to challenge me for your hand. But I decided not to hurt them, they are your friends after all. Think of it as a wedding present!"

The room goes quiet after the prince spoke. (Y/N) stares at her friends faces and her eyes slightly light up. She gives a sad smile and bows at them. Mouthing a few silent words to them. They stare at her with fear, but keep quiet.

"Now let's start!" The ghost groom announced as the priest ghosts starts to talk. "Do you, Prince Elias. Take this young woman as your wife and be with her for all eternity." "I do!"

The preist smiled at the boys eagerness. "And you my dear lady, do you take him as your husband for all eternity?" (Y/N) takes a glance at her bouquet of flowers and smiled softly. "I don't.." Gasps of shocks fill the air.

"Wha- but why?!" Elias cried out, as (Y/N) friend's cheered. The (h/c)-nette takes in a breath before releasing a sigh. "Prince Elias... You are a good soul, a sweet one. You put on a brave face for your subjects and friends so they could be happy."

"But you aren't, your just putting your ideals on me so you could finally find your happily ever after. Elias, you need to understand. I'm not your true love. You don't even know me, I don't even think you know why I am even here in Twisted Wonderland." (Y/N) says sadly, taking the princes hand in her's.

"I'm sorry about what you've been through. Though you need to see that you have to stop searching for someone who is your "ideal" cause I'm not a princess!" (Y/N) chuckles bitterly. "There is more to somebody than how they seem to be."

"I... I never meant... I just.." Elias tried to form words, though he couldn't. "I was never able to get a "happily ever after" when I was alive.. I wanted to find my princess and have a future with her. Yet that was stolen away from me, now I'm stealing you away from yours." Elias cried,  his blue eyes closing.

"I'm sorry... I deeply am." The ghost groom cries, wiping his tears away. "Even after five hundred years, nanny was right. I still act like a child." This time, the prince laughs with bitterness. "I think it's time to finally leave.."

(Y/N) nods as Grim got out of his captors restrains and throws a wedding ring to her. "Place it on his finger! He'll disappear for good!" Grim yells at her. (Y/N) catches it and gives Elias one last smile as she puts on the ring.

"Thank you..." The ghost groom whispers as he started to disappear along with the other ghosts. When he was finally gone, the only thing left was a wedding ring. (Y/N) crouched down and picks it up from the ground. Throwing it in a trash been soon after.

She goes over to her friends and undid their restraints. When she finished, the group of grooms give her a hug. (Y/N) hugs them back, placing a small kiss on each their cheeks in gratitude. "Thanks..!" She blushed and looks away from them and focused her attention on cleaning up, not seeing her suitors rivaling looks in their eyes.

The ghost groom had lost his chance for her heart. But who said her suitors will?

The End.

(Yay! This series has been one wild ride for me. But I did it! Thank you guys for the support! I told myself that I would finish this before the Twst halloween event. And I did, Thank you guys! Happy Spooky Month! 👻)

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Summary: Technoblade spends some time in Pandora’s Box. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

(Read on AO3)

He skimmed his hand along the obsidian, the surface smooth beneath his touch. Some parts of it were seemingly warmer than others, but Technoblade didn't know if that was because of the lava running somewhere deep within the walls or just his tired mind playing tricks on him. He tapped the volcanic glass once, an action that fills the cell with a light ringing sound. But the layers ran too deep for Techno to tell where hollowness hides beneath.

Which was a shame, because knowing the structure's weaknesses would already go a long way in him figuring out his escape plan.

With no tools and the mining fatigue weighing heavy on his bones, getting through obsidian might be a fool's errand. But it was a better way to spent his time than waiting for a rescue party that would most likely never come. Or better yet, stay put and sit pretty like Dream seemed to want him to.

Technoblade couldn't see any other reason for him still being here.

The sky tore open, lightning forming a spiderweb of fractures evaporating as quickly as they had taken shape. Rain beat down on them relentlessly and made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them. Another crack – a flash of blinding light – and it carried the glint of a sword at Phil's throat, the steady hand of Dream holding onto the base of Phil's neck and keeping him in place.

Technoblade stilled in an instant.

The thunder rumbled ominously as Dream's impassive mask grinned ever wider.

The trade-off had gone quick and easy, an unspoken agreement that Techno would sign again in a heartbeat. He nodded curtly at Dream, who pressed the blade firmer against skin to make his point. Techno dropped his own weapon, holding up his arms to show goodwill. Phil's eyes widened as he realized what was happening, helpless to stop it.

"Wait-" But Dream curled his fingers tighter around Phil's neck, the sword inches away from slicing a jugular and Techno shook his head, internally begging for the other man to stay quiet.

He didn't know if he could do this if Phil asked him not to with that pained look in his eyes.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed since he was locked in Pandora's box, but Techno had a rough estimation. Sam brought him food and by counting the minutes between deliveries he had narrowed it down to two meals a day. Almost twenty meals had come and gone since his arrival.

During this time Dream had not come to see him once, was the thing.

It made a tight coil of worry pull in Techno's gut. One he stubbornly pushed down and shoved into a corner of his mind where he put all emotions he deemed worthy to be re-examined at a more opportune time, preferably over a cup of tea and some of Phil's freshly baked bread. There were only so many reasons he could think of for Dream to wait this long to state his demands – because that's what they had to be. Demands. Dream didn't do anything in half measures, always had some ace up his sleeve or a grand scheme to connect by pulling little threads of manipulation.

Dream had to gain something from putting him in prison.

Techno sat down on the small bunk that served as the room's only furniture, both bed and table in its function. The thin blanket that hardly did anything for him was balled up and shoved to the side. He started running down the list out loud so Chat could follow along. For all their strange tricks that eluded him, they still couldn't read his thoughts. Thankfully.

"Reason one: Dream thinks leaving me in here long enough will make it easier for him to get what he wants from me later."

Psychological warfare was the oldest trick in the book, but no method quite as effective as solitary confinement to break a person. Or, well, that would be the case for most others. Between the voices and a natural tendency towards extreme introversion Technoblade probably was the worst target for this approach. If the accommodations weren't so shit, he might have even enjoyed his stay.

Dream would most likely know this. Cross it off the list.

"Reason two: he needs to keep me secured for a future ploy."

A possibility, but the uncertainty tugged at Technoblade all the same. If Dream was planning to use him as a bargaining chip – or worse, a flunkey – down the line, then Techno would have had the honor of his presence by now, even if only for Dream to gloat. That man was utterly lost in his own superiority complex on the best of days, there was no chance he would pass on an opportunity to rub Techno's face in his future plans. Leave him stewing in misery with knowledge of what was to come.

A moment's hesitation, but he crossed it off the list.

"Reason three: he's forgotten I'm in here."

His joke made Chat agitated and he winced at the stab of a headache that brought forth as their yelling got louder, more jumbled. "Yeah, that would be pretty cringe of him," he agreed with their repeated outcries.

"Well, that only leaves the last option I can consider..." He trailed off, staring at the slightly shimmering surface of the obsidian. Techno could see his own reflection in the translucent facets. The crown on his head stood out starkly in the cell's dim light.

In chess, the best plays were always those that went for the strongest pieces first. It might be tempting to take a rook or two to start with, but you can't feel safe until that queen is removed from the board. Then it breaks open for you to do whatever you want with, essentially.

"He's leaving me here to rot."

Phil had stared at him, the shadows cutting across his expression. Techno couldn't look him in the face, keeping his focus on Dream instead. Not breaking eye contact even as his hands were tied behind his back. The useless gesture was only meant to humiliate him, Dream knew he wouldn't budge an inch with Phil's last life still in danger.

They had marched him straight to the prison, not taking any risks and all the while Technoblade had already been glancing around, committing any important leverages to memory. With every security measure they passed, his heart sank deeper in his chest.

Forty meals had come and gone.

Technoblade was chipping away at the wall, not for any real reason except it kept him busy. He wasn't stupid enough to believe it would actually amount to anything. Not when the walls were made of obsidian, not when the mining fatigue strained his movements and made his muscles contract under the pressure of forcing them into cooperation. There was less strength to his punches, flexing his fingers against invisible weights suspended from them by strings.

And even if he managed by some miracle to mine away a block, Sam would know and come replace it instantly.

"Chat," he addressed the voices. "You're familiar with the story of Sisyphus, right?" A mess of responses, mostly the repeating of their favorite letter which Techno chose to take as agreement. "Yeah, sure, I've read it to you before."

His claws broke through another inch of the solid stone. Obsidian wasn't a mineral, the composition wasn't right for it. But it splintered in brittle ways and cut open Techno's palm, making the blood run slick through his fingers. Chat went into a frenzy.

"This is what he must have felt like with his boulder," Techno concluded.

They stripped him of his tools, his weapons, his communicator. Technoblade was vaguely grateful they let him keep his clothes at least, though he suspected it was merely because Sam hadn't been prepared for the prison to already be put to use.

The creeper-hybrid looked at him in vague apprehension and Techno shrugged back.

Placing him in the highest security cell could have been a compliment if Techno didn't think it to be completely overkill and awfully dramatic on Dream's part. The rows of doors they passed on the way to the bowels of the box were concerning, enough to contain at least half the residents of the server.

Dream had officially lost his marbles.

High security turned out to be a euphemism for 'violation of human rights'. The cell was barely three by three blocks, with nothing but the bed tucked against one wall and a heavy-set door that didn't even have a handle on the inside. At floor height, there was a thin slot just wide enough for the occasional bowl of stew or a baked potato to slide through. The warden didn't have to interact with his prisoners.

"Cozy," Techno remarked dully before the door was shut behind him. It hadn't been opened since.

He had lost count, but he had to be nearing his eightieth meal now.

More and more often Technoblade found himself slumbering through the opening of the latch, only to wake up to a stale steak that had been left on his floor hours ago. It wasn't real sleep, merely a state of exhaustion both mental and physical that left him wandering the borders of consciousness, drifting somewhere between awareness and disconnect. Which he knew was probably not the best sign.

The lack of physical activity was wearing his muscles down, making even the simple act of pacing circles in the room send aches through his legs. For the first time in longer than he cared to recall Techno returned to the exercise routine they had done every morning in the Antarctic Empire – or at least the parts of it he could match in the limited space of his cell. It wasn't enough though and he felt himself grow weaker every day. There was no sunlight, no fresh air, and the food left something to be desired.

His mind too wandered more and more, having trouble staying on task. The voices gradually grew more agitated, bored by the same scenery each day, the lack of excitement. A permanent headache had taken residence and didn't show any sign of intending to leave soon, making its presence known through a constant throbbing and the occasional stab of pain when he thought too hard. Closing his eyes, Technoblade started to count out loud. Give them and himself something to concentrate on. Chat came apart into a tangle of numbers, noises, buzzing. He winced.

"Okay, new plan, new plan-" He curled up on the bunk, drawing his knees up to his chest. The blanket was on the floor. "Story time, what would you like to hear?"

More chaos, but one answer stood out among the others. Its irony was not lost on Techno.

"Thus, the first mortal woman was born and she descended down to earth." He hushed them and was grateful when chat fell away into quieter murmurs. "Her name was Pandora."

The door opened.

The sound made Technoblade flinch, the creak feeling so horribly foreign in the stillness of his cell that he had come to know like the back of his hand. He stared and didn't know what to think when he saw Phil outlined in the opening.

"Wha-"

His friend was at his side in seconds, one hand holding his wrist and it was nearly painful. An absence of touch suddenly set ablaze. Techno did his best not to shy away from the contact.

"We need to get out of here," Phil said urgently, eyes wide and panicked and the words died on Techno's tongue. "There isn't much time."

Techno could only nod, throat raw and hurting as Phil pulled him to his feet. He nearly fell over.

The hallways seemed different, longer and winding in strange angles. Door upon door upon door and Phil didn't say anything, just tugged Techno along. His head was filled with cotton. Why wasn't there any lava? Where was the redstone?

When they came outside, the sun was blinding him.

"Wait, Phil." Techno stopped moving, dug his heels into the ground and Phil stopped too. He turned around, skin pale and expression worried and it killed him. It killed Techno. "What's happening?"

"I came for you," Phil answered simply. "Of course I did, mate."

Techno felt like he was breaking.

He woke up in his cell.

"At the bottom of the box, only Hope remained there in an unbreakable home."

Technoblade missed his home.

He missed his farm and his pets and the feeling of the breeze running through his hair. He missed the winding of the river across the land, small sounds of trickling and running along the shallows with Wilbur and Tommy in tow. He missed Phil putting logs of wood in the fireplace.

He was tired.

The voices wouldn't stop screaming. Pressing his hands into his closed eyes, relieved when the pressure took some of the edge off, Technoblade grunted. "What has you guys excited now, hm?"

He didn't really care. The room was small and endless and he couldn't breathe within these walls, couldn't think. He just wanted them to shut up so he could go to sleep again.

But Chat didn't mind his protests, a litany of noise and somewhere in there, Technoblade could have sworn he heard Phil's name. He blinked back into awareness, struggling to get his stagnant mind into motion again. Too exhausted to move.

The door opened.

Technoblade couldn't even bear to tear his eyes away from the ceiling.

Somebody shook his shoulder and said his name and it hurt, it all hurt too much to be real. When warm arms wrapped around his body Techno wanted to sob but couldn't do that either.

"Hey, hey-" Phil was brushing his tangled hair from his face, fingers skirting along Techno's cheeks. He leaned into that touch subconsciously, needing it like a lifeline. There was time to be self-conscious about such vulnerability later. "It's okay, I'm here."

The noise that wanted to come out of him was a low whine, but Techno cleared his throat instead. "Took you long enough."

Phil let out a short laugh, not quite sincere yet but still music to his ears. "Yeah, you can complain about it to me later, once we get home."

Home?

Techno nodded, the minimal motion already enough to make him dizzy. But that didn't matter with Phil steadying him, holding onto him, helping him.

Coming back for him.

"Please," he said. "Home would be great."

[vanillawaiver]

i tried to figure out the enneagram types of dream smp characters

have you ever wanted to know the enneagram types, and therefore motivations and fears, of your favorite dream smp characters? that’s a rhetorical question. don’t answer. this post contains a quick explanation of the enneagram and an analysis for every included character. i’m just gonna put it all under the cut.

i’d absolutely love to hear your thoughts!

ENNEAGRAM EXPLANATION

a quick low-down on the enneagram, for those who don’t know:

the enneagram actually refers to a funky circular graph, numbers 1-9 on the outside that depict 9 different personality types. each type is adjacent to two other types around the circle (see image for clarification). the two types on either side are the possible wings for that specific type, a wing being an additional set of personality traits alongside the main personality type. an enneagram type is written as [type]w[wing]. for example, my enneagram type is 4, and i have a type 5 wing, so my enneagram type is 4w5.

(the lines through the inside of the enneagram won’t be mentioned in this post, but you can find more information on them online if you’re curious. i won’t link anything because links can be sketchy)

the nine enneagram types are mostly easily explained by their basic fears and basic desires. the enneagram is intended to explain the “why” behind someone’s actions, which is why it’s so hard to type someone else. you cannot get inside their head to find out their true motivations. however, today i am working with entirely fictional characters and not the content creators themselves, so i give myself a free pass. please don’t go around psychoanalyzing your friends or people you don’t even know and jumping to conclusions without their input lol

also all of these are just what i think ! if you (respectfully) disagree, i would actually love to hear your opinions - you are probably right and i am probably wrong.i don’t watch every stream or even know of every event, and my reasoning is probably weak at best. enough rambling, here we goooo

the grouping will be by type, just because… idk how else to organize this.

again, /rp /rp /rp ! i don’t know these ccs in real life and will not pretend to. i’m talking about minecraft roleplay.

(also, i didn’t proofread this. sorry fnjakdfda)

type 1: the reformer

principled, purposeful, self-controlled, perfectionistic

desire: to be good, to have integrity

tubbo - type 1w2

tubbo is a classic example of a type 1 being put into the worst possible situation for their current mental state. tubbo was the moral and sensical anchor for tommy’s more eccentric and self-centered actions, and they functioned as this duo UNTIL tubbo was made the president of l’manberg. tubbo’s more self-critical tendencies were amplified because his actions had so much weight. tubbo is quick to turn against and polarize those he sees as “evil”, making broad generalizations like “technoblade is wrong” and “tommy is good”, regardless of all the moral gray areas, and even changes his mind drastically between them as he seeks the right answer. (ex: exiles tommy, but then decides it was the wrong idea, and now seems to agree with everything he says again.) i think part of his flip-flopping comes from a sense of people-pleasing and generosity, again amplified by his position as the (now former) president of a nation.

type 2: the helper

generous, demonstrative, people-pleasing, possessive

desire: to feel loved/appreciated

quackity - type 2w3

(as far as i know) quackity’s first major action on the smp was to run for president. wilbur and tommy wanted quackity (as part of swag 2020) to share the votes of the two parties in order to ensure a victory over schlatt. however, quackity acted out against them because he felt used instead of appreciated for his ideas. schlatt promised him at least some amount of respect, so quackity switched sides regardless of what was better for the smp at large. i believe quackity kept looking for approval from others, but also some sense of accomplishment, by founding mexican l’manberg (is this even canon…idk but i liked it), starting the butcher army, and trying to bring schlatt back to life. quackity even fought technoblade despite being grossly unqualified and i believe this is due to the martyr mindset that often comes with unhealthy type 2s. 

type 3: the achiever

adaptable, excelling, driven, image-conscious

desire: to feel valuable

nihachu - type 3w2

(at the time of writing this, niki hasn’t had a ton of canon screentime, so this is mostly based off of the doomsday stream.) when in emotional distress, niki applies her type 3 ideas of being the best she can be to others, hyperfocusing on “teaching them a lesson” by destroying l’manberg. unhealthy 3s also tend to become jealous of other people’s happiness and success to the point they attempt to destroy it, perhaps explaining how niki’s character felt that no one wanted to listen to what she had to say about the political state of things. i see niki as a character that values her image in relation to others, hence the 2 wing. when fundy showed her respect, she became even more sure of herself, and this seems to be the kind of thing she is after.

schlatt - type 3w4

much like ghostbur (as mentioned later), schlatt is a very exaggerated character. it’s hard to type him, because the enneagram focuses around people who behave in the way real people do, and schlatt is a larger-than-life villain. i’ve typed schlatt as a 3 because of his narcissistic tendencies. schlatt not only wanted to be but believed he was integral to l’manberg’s continued function. unhealthy 3s tend to be devious and manipulative in order to hide their own wrongdoing, like how schlatt exiled the main opponents of his rule. schlatt doesn’t have the emotional introspection of a 4, only the temperamental self-absorption, but i think this is the best i can do lol

type 4: the individualist

expressive, dramatic, self-absorbed, temperamental

desire: to be significant, to find identity

tommy - type 4w5

most of my reasoning for tommy’s typing comes from his time in exile. tommy displayed an impressive connection to his emotions, maybe just out of necessity because he was alone. his constant cry was that no one cares about him, but not in the way a 2 may fear the same thing. tommy feared he had faded from significance. when he felt this way, he was quick to make rash conclusions and decisions. he is self-centered, caring more about his discs than about anything on the server. the 5 wing is there because of tommy’s constant assertion that people pity him when they show basic human kindness. he dreads others viewing him as incapable.

type 5: the investigator

perceptive, innovative, secretive, isolated

desire: to be capable and competent

awesamdude: type 5w6

is sam incredibly important to the plot? not as i write this. but i don’t want to leave type 5 empty. sam does cool redstone and built a cool prison. he’s super swag. i’m too lazy to attempt to do an analysis. this is just what i believe to be the objective truth on his character. give sam your primes.

type 6: the loyalist

engaging, responsible, anxious, suspicious

desire: to have security and support

wilbur (alivebur) - type 6w5

(pls disagree with me on this. this was so hard and i didn’t start watching dream smp until after the original “it wasn’t meant to be” moment sjkdfadkl) it’s right in the l’manberg national anthem. a place men could go to emancipate the brutality of their rulers. wilbur created l’manberg for what i interpret as security reasons. a peaceful land without americans. as an american, i understand completely. wilbur demonstrates the tendency of 6’s to shun outsiders and to turn to hysterical violence in times of distress. wilbur’s final action before his death was to blow up his safe place, because he believed the security had been tainted. i have typed wilbur with a 5 wing almost exclusively because of the intentionally radical beliefs that unhealthy 5s exhibit, becoming obsessed with blowing up the place he once called home.

type 7: the enthusiast

spontaneous, versatile, distractible, scattered

desire: to be satisfied and content, to avoid pain

fundy - type 7w6

fundy grew up in constant distress, what with his dad kinda losing it and the constant political turmoil. fundy has acknowledged that there is nothing that comes from conflict except for personal gain. fundy is selfish (taking netherite meant for everyone, hardly taking other people’s feelings into account) by nature of the society he was born into. like most distressed 7s, he has mood swings and comes off as demanding. i gave fundy a 6 wing because of what i see as the origin of his issues: a lack of support and stability. because of this, fundy often seeks external solutions (material possessions) instead of internal ones (fucking THERAPY OH MY GOD).

badboyhalo - type 7w6

“l’manberg? pogtopia? who cares?” :D

type 8: the challenger

self-confident, decisive, willful, confrontational

desire: to protect themselves, to be in control of their own life

dream - type 8w7

(warning, a lot of this typing is based on my own theories about the smp, because dream doesn’t stream rp to give us his own perspective.) dream claims that his motivation, at least presently, is to cause as much chaos as possible, but this has to come from a more philosophical place. dream is the one who started the server, and, i believe, canonically created the world they all populate. dream’s rule was originally questioned by the creation of l’manberg, which he interpreted as a personal attack. as a type 8 would, he is attempting to destroy all that does not conform to the vision he has for a peaceful, unified server. this may make it seem like dream should have 9 wing, but i don’t believe stability factors into his reasoning. dream seeks fun, for himself and others, and also finds this by causing chaos, as mentioned before.

technoblade - type 8w7

now, just because techno and dream have the same enneagram typing here does not mean they are at all similar. techno also lashes out at things that do not conform to his vision (anarchy) but has a stronger connection to his 7 wing. he wants to protect himself because of the comfort and happiness that would provide, not exclusively to be in control. he cares more about the pain and suffering caused by the government. still, i don’t think techno’s primary motivation is to be happy, as he still causes harm and puts himself in danger in order to achieve his goals. when a type 7 would become depressed and isolated, techno decides to spawn six withers. to each their own.

type 9: the peacemaker

receptive, reassuring, agreeable, complacent

desire: to have inner stability, to avoid loss

ghostbur - type 9w1

more than anyone on the server, ghostbur is a two-dimensional character. (absolutely not meant in a negative way. i adore ghostbur as both comic relief and a consistent character. ghostbur simply doesn’t behave like a normal person, and that is the point.) this makes it difficult to type him, but i tried my best. ultimately, ghostbur cares about others, but not in the way a 2 does. blatant negativity from people he interacts with doesn’t affect him in the slightest. he hands out blue because he is good, hence the 1 wing, and not to be loved. the only time (i can remember) that ghostbur has expressed anger was when friend the sheep was killed in techno and dream’s terrorism upon l’manberg. loss is the only thing he seems to be afraid of, and he applies this to all people within the smp. 

philza - type 9w8

to put it nicely, philza is a mediator. to put it not-so nicely, he doesn’t give a fuck. philza has actually achieved much of the goals a 9 has, making him an anomaly on the smp. (most every one of these characters expresses extremely unhealthy characteristics of their type.) philza is accepting of others, and does more listening than speaking. however, philza still feels the effects of loss from murdering his own son in cold blood (just minecraft things <3) and presumably fears losing something else important to him, thus forming few attachments (ex: didn’t care his house in l’manberg got blown up, didn’t react much to tommy’s betrayal.) i typed him as a wing 8 because of his healthy self-confidence and confrontationalism.

please keep in mind that this is all referring to the dream smp characters these streamers portray. i don’t claim to know anything about their deeper philosophical reasoning for whatever they do irl. not really on that parasocial type beat, ya feel me? i would love to hear your thoughts.

 thanks for reading!

[mayraki]

CHAPTER TEN

“great things take time”

CHAPTER NINE

SERIES MASTERLIST

MY MASTERLIST

who is max belinsky?

concept boards for the new characters

summary: Max Belinsky and JJ Maybank are the two troublemakers of Outer Banks. Going to parties, getting into trouble, having an attitude and being the two people you don’t mess with are the perfect ways to describe them. What would happen when the two people who seem to have trouble follow them around meet? One thing is fore sure, they didn’t expect this outcome.

“Are you ready for the craziest party of the year?!” John B yelled once he entered the Chateau.

“Wooohoo!” Sam yelled lifting her arms into the air.

“Like the enthusiasm!” He said. “We have to make the teams.”

“Teams?” Max asked confused.

“Yeah, we have to get a lot of stuff for the party. First of all, and the most important thing, the Kegs. The guy said he can’t come to leave them. Max, JJ, think you can handle that?”

“Is there something me and her can’t handle?” JJ asked while giving Max a smirk.

“I agree.” She said while pointing at him.

“Finally!” Hi lifted his fist into the air celebrating. “We agreed on something.”

After organising what was left to buy for the party, Kie with Sam, went to buy some red solo cups, Pope, John B and Sarah all went to spread the word around Outer Banks. It was going to be the biggest party they’ve all seen.

“I’m not surprised John B made us go to the get the Keggers together.” JJ said when he and Max were inside her old white Jeep. “We are the perfect team.”

“Well, I’m not surprised that you like the idea of me and you together.” Max started the car.

“Why?” He asked furrowing his eyebrows.

“You were the one who had a crush on me when we were kids.” He face palmed himself while Max bursted into laughter.

“Alright, hey John B, I’d like to change my partner.” He let his head out the window but it was too late, since Max had already started driving her car away from the Chateau.

“Too late, baby! You’re stuck with me!” She said between laughs.

“JJ, you are reading the map all wrong!”

“No, I’m sure it’s this way.”

“It can’t be, this is literally in the middle of nowhere. Where did John B said this guy was going to be?”

“I don’t remember the address exactly-”

“JJ, you didn’t wrote it down!?”

“It wasn’t that difficult! I thought I was going to remember it!”

“Well, clearly, you thought wrong! I can’t believe we’re fucking lost, no, we’re most than lost! This is a disaster.” She let her back hit the back of her seat while letting out a big sigh. “I’ll text John B to send me the address again.”

“Would you calm down? Look.” He pointed at some girls on the beach. “Let’s ask them.”

Three girls were walking closer to them with boards next to their bodies. They had long hair that would end up on their waist, surf suits on with backwards caps on their heads.

“Watch this.” JJ said once they were closer to them. Max lifted her eyebrow while following JJ with her eyes. She noticed he was doing his “famous” flirt with them. She crossed her arms across her chest while listening to the girls and JJ. “Hello ladies. Have any of you pretty ladies know this area well enough to helps us out here?”

Max let out a loud sigh after hearing his words. She rolled her eyes trying to convince herself what she was feeling inside wasn’t jealousy.

One of the girls furrowed her eyebrows confused before turning her head to Max. A little smirk appeared on her face and then she went back to JJ. “What do you and this beautiful lady over here need?” The girl said with a raspy voice.

“Uh-Uhm.” JJ was left without words when the girl called Max “beautiful.” While she was trying so hard to not let out a loud laugh after seeing the famous flirt not work for JJ, she took some steps forwards to be closer to the girls.

“We are lost. Can you tell us where this direction is?” Max handed the girl her phone showing the text message from John B.

“Sure. It’s a couple of miles from here. Go to the left when you can’t go straight anymore and then you’ll see this giant green sign. It’s around there. You won’t miss it.”

“Thank you! We really appreciate it.”

“No problem! And hey, if you’re ever here again, I’d love to show you around.” She said and a little smile appeared on Max’s face.

“I’ll remember that.” Max slowly nodded before turning around and seeing JJ’s surprise expression. “That was something.”

“Huh.” JJ said. Max bit her lower lip trying to not let out a loud laugh that was fighting to come out. “Well-”

“Now, don’t get jealous, it would never work out between me and her.”

“Right... because you’re not into women?”

Max slowly shook her head. “We’re too far.” She said softly before going inside her car and enjoying the look on JJ’s face.

“The girl was right. The kegs are secured and we’re ready to head back.” Max said with a smile while looking at her back seat where the three keggers were.

“Oh, wait a minute, wait a minute!” JJ said excited looking through the window of the Jeep.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She asked confused.

“That right there is a 3100 Coronet. That’s one of the best boats in here probably, $300,000 easy. I’ve never seen one up close.” JJ said while pointing to the white boat parked next to a house across to where he and Max where.

“What is it doing there, and not on the dock? I mean, if I had a boat like that I wouldn’t have it parked on my house.”

“My dad and I could only dream of having a boat like that. What I would give to be inside of it.”

“Well... What are you waiting for?” Max asked before opening the door of her Jeep. JJ turned to her confused. “There’s no one around, no owner, not a single soul on the beach, wouldn’t hurt if we checked it out, would it?”

“Sometimes I wonder why I didn’t met you before.” JJ said with a huge smile on his face.

“Great things take time, JJ.”

They both walked out of the Jeep and started to slowly walk to the boat making sure no one was watching them.

“Sweet.” JJ said while looking at the boat like he was falling in love. Max furrowed her eyebrows confused when JJ touched the boat and started to smile like a five year old who was watching a toy he always wanted.

“JJ, you know it’s just a boat. Right?”

“Seriously Max? Just a boat? It’s more than that. It’s a really expensive boat, the leader seats, the giant driving wheel, not forgetting to mention the speed that this baby is capable of going.” He said that like he was actually offended of Max’s comment.

She just shook her head annoyed. But eventually, once she saw how JJ went inside the boat and started to be even more surprised about the buttons inside, Max wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

“Wow. It looks way more bigger once you are inside.”

“Yeah, this baby can hold up to 10 people. Can you believe that? 10!” He lifted his fingers in front of Max’s face but she pushed them away.

“It’s still a boat.”

“Well, it’s not a surprised that I like this boat who doesn’t have a personality. I used to have a crush on you.”

Max opened her mouth offended. “You don’t get to play the uno reverse card on me. That’s my thing to annoy you with!” She pointed at him but he just let out a loud laugh. “Oh, that’s how you want to play things, huh? Come here!” Max was quick and was able to grab JJ’s neck with her arm and wrapped around it, making his face go to her chest. With her other hand she started to rub his hair while he was trying to break free.

“Gosh! You’re freakishly strong..”

“Dude! I have two brothers, I had to learn how to defend myself.” Max said before letting out a big laugh at the attempt of JJ trying to get out.

“But, seriously Max, you think that I actually want to break free? Look where my face is.” Max looked down and realized that his face was really close to her chest, not even a finger could go through that space. She lost strength on JJ so he was able to gain his posture back, but Max’s arm was still around his neck, making their faces be really close to each other.

“You’re going to punch me now, are you?” He asked.

She unconsciously looked down to his lips. He did the same while his breathing was heavy. They both stayed on that position enjoying each other’s closeness. A sudden wave of desire came over Max and JJ, they both wanted to close the space between them but all the courage they both had on themselves went away.

“I don’t want to punch you.” Max said after going back to his eyes.

“And what do you want to do?” He softly asked.

“Hey! You two!” A man yelled behind them on the house. That made JJ and Max jump and take some steps away from each other. The man was quickly walking towards the boat and Max noticed he wasn’t very happy about it.

“He doesn’t seem very friendly.” Max whispered to JJ.

He quickly shook his head. “Want to run?”

Max turned to him and a little smile appeared on her face. “Always.”

He grabbed her hand and started to count to three, but the man was already too close to them, so Max quickly jumped out the boat with JJ behind her still grabbing her hand.

“Come back here you punks!” The man yelled while Max and JJ were running towards her Jeep. Laughs were coming out of their mouths when Max opened her door and they both where inside her car.

“Start the car woman! Start the car!” JJ yelled between laughs with his eyes glued to the man coming towards the car.

“Don’t you two dare start that car!” He yelled but it was too late, the car was long gone the road.

“Believe me, I don’t get scared that easily, but that man was scary as shit.” Max said when they could stop the laughter after making sure the man wasn’t following them.

“Man! Everywhere we go, we always end up running away from someone.” JJ said before letting out tiny laugh.

“It’s our lifestyle, dude. Get used to it.”

“Oh, I’ll get used to it alright.”

“What do you mean?” Max did a quickly look to him and noticed he was just staring at the window.

“Oh, nothing.” He said shrugging his shoulders. “Would you look at that?”

“What?”

“The sunset.” He pointed at the veiw.

“Well, unless you want to die I can’t look at it.” JJ turned to her.

“Let’s just stop then. C’mon.”

“No, we can’t, we have to make it to the party.”

“We have time!” JJ let his hand rest on her shoulder. But quickly took it away once Max lifted her eyebrow. “They won’t miss us.”

“Talk for yourself. I would be miss, a lot for the record.” Max said jokingly, but since JJ didn’t say anything, she let out a tiny sigh. “Alright. I do love watching the sunset.”

Max parked the car on the side of the road facing the beach. They both walked out of her Jeep and sat down at the front, having the best view of the sky and the ocean in front of them.

“Gosh, that’s beautiful.” She said softly.

“Thank you.” JJ said jokingly. She turned to him and a huge smirk appeared on his face while she was trying to not let out a laugh. He went back to the sky but she was still looking at him. There was something about him, something that didn’t give Max the need to punch him or be annoyed at his stupid comments. He made her laugh, she had a fun time with him, she felt... safe. Something that she didn’t felt with a boy in a long time. She recognised the feeling she was having inside her stomach, those butterflies flying like crazy, she remembered that. And all the lovely feelings that came afterwards, but also, the bad ones. The crying and the feeling of not being able to get out of bed. All those times she tried to have something like that again, she failed. The horrible memories came back to her mind like a train that didn’t have an ending. It felt like that train was never going to go away, and it will always come back when it’s needed. Needed to protect Max from future pain. She wanted it to stop, stop being so over protective over her and let her experience. But it wouldn’t let her, it was screaming on the back of her head “Don’t fall! It’s going to happen again! He’s going to break your heart!”

But Max knew, that it didn’t matter how much her mind was going to try to stop her, because sometimes, one can’t control what the heart wants and who it falls for.

“Ready to head back?” JJ asked and Max noticed that the sun was completely gone and the darkness surrounded them.

“Yeah.” She said softly before getting up and walking inside her Jeep to drive back to the Chateau.

“Let’s get this lazy asses to help us with the keggers.” JJ said after getting out of the car.

“Right. Let’s go get them.” Max and JJ walked to the house but when they didn’t hear any noise coming from inside, they both looked at each other confused. “Weird. They should all be preparing the things for the party.” JJ nodded. Max walked to the porch with him behind her, but when two figures moved on the inside and she was able to connect the dots on what they were doing, she quickly turned around hitting her chest with JJ’s and making himself fall back with her.

“What?” He asked confused.

“Shhhh!” She whispered before grabbing JJ’s hand and walk him to her Jeep.

“What are you doing?!”

“Oh my fucking god. Oh my-”

“Max! What?” JJ shook her arms trying to let the words come out of her mouth.

“Sam! Kie!” She pointed at the house. “Sam! Kie!”

“What? What? What?”

“Kissing!”

“Kissing?” He asked confused. “Like on the cheek?”

Max slapped his arm. “No! Do you think that I would be freaking out like this if it was on te cheek!? On the fucking lips!”

He widen his out in surprise and Max nodded. “Oh.”

“Exactly!”

“Guys!” Max and JJ heard Kie say on the front door of the house. She had a smile on her face while walking towards them. “Glad you’re back!”

“Yeah! We just arrived, like right this second, not any second before.” Max said quickly.

“Right! What she said!” JJ let his arm go around her shoulders trying to seem normal.

“Alright...” Kie said confused at their strange behaviour but quickly brushed it off. “You want some help with the keggers?”

“You know what? No, we’re totally fine.” Max said nodding.

“Yeah! You go with Sam and keep... preparing the things for the party.” JJ scratched the back of his head while Max wanted to kill him on the inside for being suspicious.

“Ok! But let me know if you need anything.” She said before turning around and going back to the house.

“Oh my god, why didn’t she told me she was into Kie like that?” Max asked to herself. She was kinda disappointed that her best friend didn’t shared with her something so important. But at the same time, understood the situation and that it was something you say when you’re ready to say it.

“Maybe she didn’t know before today.” JJ said trying to comfort her.

“Maybe... I don’t know.” Max let out a tiny sigh. “All I know, is that tonight it’s going to be crazier than I thought.” She said. And boy, was she absolutely right.

@iamaunicorn4704 @onceinagenerationrage @lasnaro @k-k0129 @x-lulu @oopsiedoopsie23 @baby-pogue @roamingmarauder @ponyboys-sunsets @agirlwholovescoffee @thorsangel @royalmerchant @deviouscharitos @badbitsh13 @cilorawr @ilovejjmaybank @corebore123 @starksweasley @rudths @allycat449-blog @netflix-imagines @alwaysasadaesthetic @queenofthepouges @jjsmaybcnk @sexytholland @xoxoalxssa @sadcupofcoffee @allielozoya @jjandreidsgirl @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @nevvvv @drewswannabegirl @outerbanksbro @itsyagirljay @alw4ysmaybank @mrsromangodfrey @kay667 @casper17 @jarahisendgame @niya-savage @scooby6 @dustyjjumpwings @sweetlysilent @alternativehp @stilinskingongo @renatafairchild @stfukie @chasefreakinstokes @beloved-vinyl-addict (+)

[tabbyrp]

{Tropes in the Wild West, part 4} {Cont from [x]} @brooklynislandgirl​  @tarnishedhalo

Sleeping in the saddle required two things: skill and a steady horse. Sam considered himself reasonably adept at the fine art of riding and Red Wing, in his humble opinion, was one of the finest mares to grace the lands. Rattlesnakes didn’t spook her in the slightest. Streaks of lighting could split the heavens while thunder roared, and it would barely raise a flick of the mare’s tail. Not that her resilience in that regard had been tested lately. Along each step of this ride, started a goodly time before the first cock’s crow and continuing well past the sun’s zenith, the sky stayed clear and the ground bone dry, dust kicking up with each strike of the hoof. A current flicker of wind sent a near hand’s worth of grit straight up Sam’s nose, made him sneeze violently, and dragged him out from the otherwise pleasant doze. 

As the cowboy righted himself, drawing brim of hat higher to survey his surroundings, it became possible the horse had roused him on purpose. They had reached the stretch of trail which led a winding path to the Riley stead, beaten down over the years by equestrian hooves, plodding cattle, and the occasional trip by cart or wagon. Sam knew it well, even if lately he had not travelled it as often as he should, matters between him and Riley being ever complicated since the incident. Complicated, but not uncivil. As horse and rider trotted towards the house, Riley was there to greet them, the setting sun causing two waiting glasses of whiskey to ascend into sparking gold.

Later, Sam reclined in one of the family’s chairs, still plump with padding despite a long journey from the old country. His stomach was full from a hearty meal and weary bones found comfort in the stillness. Miss Beth and the other guest had both retired gracefully once the plates were cleared, disappearing with lanterns and laughter that spoke of a secret joke between them. Sam was none the wiser as to how Miss Tabitha had come to be part of the residence. An innocent inquiry over dinner had been deferred by Riley and enforced with that certain set to his posture. The one that taught men quickly to keep civil tongues in their heads about Miss Beth. Miss Tabitha appeared to raise his same guard dog hackles, though Sam was wise enough to resist laying bait to see what Riley would bite over. 

Their previous partnership had worked well for numerous reasons, one being Sam’s calm balance to Riley’s strong will. Caution tempering boldness, except for when those bold choices were exactly what the situation required, and Riley had always been willing to lead the charge. Fearless was how Sam had viewed his friend from the first moment they met, two young bucks about to learn how this wild land needed to be treated.  Now, Riley appeared weary as he poured them both a fresh glass of imported drink, one that Sam took a light sip from, lest he give in to temptation and fall asleep right then and there. 

Perhaps Riley took pity on him after the long journey, for he skipped the polite type of conversation that would involve asking how the cattle were faring and what the other cowboys had been doing whenever granted free time to carouse in the township. “Now that the ladies are gone to bed, are you going to explain why you’re really here? I know you miss my cooking and the wit of my conversation, but it’s a long journey for one meal.” 

There… there…  beneath the crooked smile, lingered a ghost of the Riley he remembered. It hurt Sam in the chest, for he was about to snuff it out before the flame had time to grow. “We’ve got trouble at the ranch.” He gave Riley the due respect by facing him square on, as was right when about to ask a man for aid. “The kind that only you and your sister know how to deal with.” 

They left the following morning. The two men had spent time in discussion about the safest mode of transportation. A small wagon was slower, though it had advantages should anything untoward happen out on the trail and they needed to defend the women. Riley was prepared to begin greasing the axles when Miss Beth emerged from the stables, her steed in a trot while she led another by the reins. Miss Tabby, being from the town and used to working on her feet instead of in a saddle, had clutched the pommel tight to keep from lurching off, though she carried a grit of determination that Sam could find respect for.

Both were dressed ready to travel, supplies and bags strapped securely in place, with Miss Beth making statements implying that the men should hurry up before they were left behind. Riley was none too pleased, that much was plain, but arguing would only waste more daylight. Even a horse whipped until bloody could not complete the journey between sunup and sundown. Making camp at night always carried a risk, although there were certain spots on the plains where lingering too long meant not rising come the dawn, and Sam had no intention of becoming grub food. Not today, at least. 

Compared to Red Wing, with her steadfast nature, Sam’s friends favoured more spirited equines. Riley needed only a light squeeze of thighs to send Sally into a rocking canter, man and horse in perfect unison as they scouted ahead for trouble. Miss Beth’s gelding was a restless creature, endlessly flicking his mane and resisting the reins, keen to break free from a plodding walk. On occasion she split off, never travelling far, mostly to examine a particular shrub or other object of interest. While the brother and sister pair were absent, Sam and Miss Tabby engaged in idle conversation. He learned she was not a whore, despite a residence at the saloon, and nothing more about what bound her to the other. For all Miss Tabitha demurred, she did so with a warmth that few white women ever offered Sam. 

Miss Tabitha’s charisma, however, took a dent when it came time to stop for the day. After horses were fed and a fire stoked to life, she insisted on breaking off pieces of her dried apple and depositing them outside the edge of the stone circle which Miss Beth and Riley had lain around their camp. Protests about attracting animals landed on deaf ears. Even after the ladies fell asleep, huddled together nose-to-nose beneath woollen blankets, Riley suggested Sam leave things be. So, he did, until a pair of ruby red eyes appeared in the shadows and four claws, scythe shaped like a barn cat if not so large and twice as thick, dug into the offering.

Sam looked away, deciding it best  if he saw no more if he were to cede to his friend’s request for restraint. Already a part of him screamed to wrench a log from the fire and strike the cursed creature away into the blackened landscape, if not send it screeching back to the hell from whence it came. “It’s gone now.” Riley’s low, steady voice drew him away from those malignant urges, and indeed, when he glanced towards the darkness, nothing stared back at him.

“Is she like you?” Sam’s question hung in the air. Riley sighed, reaching to toss another fistful of kindling into the fire before standing.

“You can take first watch.” The man clapped his shoulder, unapologetic for everything, and made his bed beside his sister. Stars spread across the night sky and a chill carried in the air, making it hardly scandalous for Riley to roll onto his side and tuck in behind Miss Beth, trapping in the warmth of her body. A few hours later, when it came time for Sam to stretch and rouse his companion, he equally made no mention of how Riley’s hand had drifted during slumber, one arm draped heavily over his sister and a lock of Miss Tabby’s hair twisted around his fingers.

The remainder of their journey passed quick enough, the foursome covering ground faster than Sam may otherwise have predicted. He estimated it barely an hour past midday when they crossed the invisible property border to the cattle ranch which he called home. Previous plans for expansion in both land and numbers were currently postponed. Waiting for better weather, the current herd needing all their attention in an endless hunt for blades of grass still holding moisture. A dam and her offspring had wandered away from the rest, nosing at the ground as the group rode past. Sam would have to round her up at some point. There were other matters to attend to, and Riley had expressed his desire to deal with those sooner rather than later. 

Further within the boundary, while far away from everything else, stood a corral. The small collection of wooden beams and panels nailed tight together, if certain slants to joints suggesting a hasty assembly. Remaining atop their horses, Sam led them closer. Slowly, cautiously, for even steady Red Wing gave a nicker of protest at the approach. One of the other ranch hands had draped a circle of rope at roughly a yard’s distance from the enclosure, locking it down with heavy iron nails.  That was where Sam halted them. Close enough for a clear assessment, far enough for safety. 

It took a moment or two for the dozen bovines within to notice their presence. Leathery heads lifted, empty eye sockets unseeing and gaunt nostrils sucking in the air. Their hair was gone, every last strand, leaving behind bleached skin that clung to gaunt bones. Unlike the docile mother cow they had passed, these creatures shivered and swayed, endlessly shifting their weight from one spindly leg to the other. The largest of them rocked forward, pressing up against the fence. It licked the air with a decaying tongue, got a proper taste of the observers, and gave a guttural howl. Two more went flank to flank with the leader, catching the scent. Sinewy necks extended towards Sam and the others as far as captivity allowed, falling short, yet still teeth flashed as jaws snapped wildly, bone clicking against bone. 

Miss Beth and Riley exchanged a look, the elder saying something under his breath. Sam possessed enough experience catching his friend’s muttered comments to piece together this one. It’s spreading. Riley  raised his voice to ask what methods they had tried to dispose of the creatures with, impassive while Sam listed off lead bullets, noxious poisons, and an attempt with an axe which left the wielder with a broken arm. “Take Tabitha up to the quarters.” Issuing what was more order than request, Riley dismounted with his old engraved pistol in hand, his sister following and starting to unstrap certain bags from her saddle. “And bring a few strong men back with you, along with some shovels.” Being dismissed caused a protest from Miss Tabby, and it took another terse, private conversation between her and Riley until the lady relented. 

Perhaps it was none of his business. Still, as he and Miss Tabby rode away from the corral, Sam took in the downcast twist to her expression, and said in a tone of someone making merely a passing mention, “He’s only like that with people he cares about.” She sighed, lips parting as if to reply, but whatever she may or not have intended to say was cut off by the sound of a single gunshot ringing through the air. A high-pitched scream, bestial and ferocious, came after, then another crack of the gun. Miss Tabitha covered her ears and Sam took her reins, leading the horse with the sounds of death following close behind.

[need-a-fugue]

And Barista Makes Three

Summary: It was suppose to be fun… something new and exciting that you and Bucky could do together. But there is such a thing as too many cooks in one kitchen…

Author’s Note: Written for Ayesha’s 1K Writing Challenge with the dialogue prompt, Screw you. Thanks @browngirlmagic​ for letting me play with this prompt!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: References to sexy times, no actual smut, though (sorry).

Word Count: 2,500ish

The bickering has officially gotten out of control, snotty remarks and vicious glares now giving way to an out-and-out shouting match in the common room.

Not cool. Off-days at the compound are typically pretty chill… death-defying missions, intensive training sessions, and hours-long debriefs being enough to suck the life out of all of you until your only remaining desire is for peace and quiet. Especially at breakfast time… especially pre-coffee.

But calm is simply not on the menu today. Not when Bucky waltzes in – still gross and sweaty from his morning run – and declares – with the petulant air of a spoiled-rotten child – that he doesn’t want any of the eggs you’ve so kindly prepared for him.

Your face twists, lips pinch. That smoldering fire in your gut blazing back to life yet again as you shriek, “Why the hell did I bother making them, then?!” before tossing the half-full pan into the sink.

Sam bristles at the sheer decibel of your voice, his own a mere whisper in comparison when he sets down his coffee and announces, “I would’ve eaten them.”

Gradually, other teammates filter into the common room – as Bucky growls out a bitter retort and you angrily grab the pan and repeatedly slam it into the sink – just to see what all the fuss is about.

Steve lingers in the doorway and lets out giant huff, fisted hands falling to his hips as he shakes his head in disappointment. “What the hell has gotten into you two?” he asks, a hint of concern bleeding through the frustration. “One minute you’re all…” He makes an awkward, waving motion with his hands, almost wincing when he says, “can’t keep your hands off each other…”

“It’s really pretty gross,” Natasha interjects as she rounds the counter in search of coffee.

Steve’s brows shoot high as if to say, uh, yeah, before he finishes with, “Now it’s like you’re leading separate forces into World War III.”

You roll your eyes dramatically. Leave it to the Captain to turn your little lovers’ quarrel into a battle metaphor. “He’s being a dick,” you announce with a sharp lilt, dropping the pan for a final time and spinning to stare Bucky down. You fold your arms tightly across your chest, lean your hip into the side of the sink, and glower at the man. “That’s what’s gotten into us.”

Bucky’s face cracks into a smug sneer. And he laughs – a short, sardonic chuckle that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. “That is not what got into us, sweetheart.”

You shoot him an icy glare, voice low and dangerous as you emit through tightly gritted teeth, “You can’t keep making out like this is all my fault. You agreed to it.”

His steely countenance shifts, eyes widening and jaw falling slack, expression cloaked in utter disbelief. “Because you said you wanted to. You fucking told me it would count as your birthday present.”

Steve takes two large strides into the room, impatience sloughing off of him in waves. “What is going on?” he laments thickly. “Seriously!”

You turn to him, tense hands falling to your hips in an agitated posture that mirrors his own. And you spill. “We had a three-way with the girl from the coffee shop and now he’s all…” You wave a dismissive hand in Bucky’s general direction, “pissed about it.”

Silence. Pure, deep, penetrating silence rings throughout the room.

Steve blinks – once, twice – as he tries to process your words. “I’m sorry,” he stutters out finally. “What?”

Bucky sighs, long and languid, before twisting towards you, his face an odd mix of solemn reproach and barely contained amusement. “Who’s the one person I said could never know about this?”

You snort out a laugh – a quick, inadvertent sputter of absolute delight – and keep Steve’s gaping expression in your line of sight as you lean into Bucky and ask, “Is he having a stroke?”

Sam jumps up then, shoving his stool away from the breakfast bar with a piercing scrape along the hardwood floor. He waves a hand distractedly through the air, waits for you to turn, and then – brow deeply furrowed – he mutters simply, “Wait. You had a threesome?”

In tandem, you and Bucky both offer matching slow nods.

Natasha slinks forward, sly smile on her face barely hidden by the mug of hot coffee that she delicately brings to her lips. A slow sip as she stands by your side, staring you down assessingly. “The blonde?” she inquires with a lilt.

You turn to face her, give another nod. “Yeah… the blonde. Sarah… something.”

One corner of her lips quirk higher, pure amusement lighting her eyes. “The one who’s always coming on to you,” she mutters, raising a single brow high. There’s no question in her voice. Doesn’t need to be.

Before you can say a word, Bucky barks from behind, “Exactly,” and lets out an irritated huff. “I don’t even know why I was there.”

You spin round on a heel, your face mere inches from his as you hiss out, “Oh, screw you.”

“That’s all I was hoping for, sweetheart,” he says with a too calm affectation. He reaches around you to grab a mug of coffee for himself, his piercing blue eyes never leaving yours. “But you went and made it weird.”

“Weird?” Sam scoffs, brow still furrowed, eyes now narrowed. “Man, I’ve see that chick. She is hot. You were in bed – naked – with two damn hot women. And it was weird?”

He shakes his head, nose crinkled in something akin to disgust. His gaze veers pensively away as he takes a sip of coffee, words flowing languidly out of him as though prudently narrating the memory playing in his mind’s eye. “It was a just a bunch of… arms and legs…”

Natasha gnaws at the corner of her lip, voice barely above a whisper when she bites out from over your shoulder, “Don’t think you were doing it right.”

His gaze ices over as he turns on her, glaring daggers. But she simply wiggles her eyebrows in response, her attention only returning to the rest of the group when Sam lets out a low whistle and a rather wistful, “Hot arms and legs.”

“You don’t get it,” Bucky snarls, jaw ticking as he drops his mug to the counter with a thunk and leans forward heatedly. “It’s not hot to watch your girlfriend get… get… plowed by someone else.”

An annoyed groan bubbles out of you. “You’re being dramatic,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. “She was totally into you.”

“She didn’t even know I was there,” he responds, tone low and subdued as he turns back to face you, the heat from his still-sweating body pooling in the small space between the two of you.

“How could she not know you were there?” you ask, raising a teasing brow, hoping to crack his sour expression. “Your penis was inside of her.”

Steve lets out an audible gasp, air pulling in between his tightly gritted teeth with a horrified whistle.

“I was never inside of her,” Bucky announces, ignoring his friend’s reaction and keeping his stare trained on you.

“Well, why the hell not?!” you ask, voice rising in both volume and pitch. You give him a little shove back, a mostly playful pop to his chest with the heel of your hand. “I picked her because you obviously have a thing for her.”

His brows twist in absolute confoundment as he stares unblinkingly at you. “What?”

“You’re always staring at her when we go get coffee… watching her,” you try, shoulders rising in a short, baffled shrug.

“I’m always keeping one eye on her because it’s obvious she’s after my girl.”

The fire in your core flares, burning up your neck and heating your cheeks in an angry flush. “If you really think that, then… then… why did you agree to do it?!”

He pulls away, taking a single large step back to widen the distance between you. “Because you wanted to,” he spits out, face twisting into an incredulous snarl. “You said it’d be fun. You… you…”

You stare at him, both brows raised, waiting for him to stop sputtering and finish his thought.

But all you get is, “You know what? Screw you.”

“Very mature,” you snipe, rolling your eyes yet again.

“Mature?!” His hands fly up into the air, exasperation peppering the wild movement. “You just… cheated on me. In my own bed. With me in it!”

“Wait a minute,” Sam says suddenly, tone painfully serious. “This happened here? In this compound? With hot coffee blonde? When? Where was I?”

You ignore his vapid inquiries, the heat between you and Bucky too consuming to allow your attention to be pulled away from the argument at hand. “That’s not what happened, and you know it.” You watch as his angry expression cracks, just a bit. “I did this for you,” you say, tone almost pleading. “Because I thought you’d like it. Because you were so… bored.”

He pulls back, face pinching tightly. “Bored? What the hell are you talking about?”

A short breath catches in your chest, candid – aching – words spilling out like stinging bile the moment you release it. “You used to be all over me… every minute of the day.” You pause just long enough to choke back a thick swell of emotion, the earnest depths of his gentle, too-blue eyes drowning you in all the care and concern swimming within them. “When… when was the last time we fucked in a supply closet?” you ask, tone tender and imploring. “Or on the elevator?”

“Whoa,” Steve blurts out. “What?!”

Natasha merely shakes her head dolefully as she continues to loom over your shoulder, idly sipping her coffee. “I really need to get into the security footage around here.”

But you couldn’t care less about the others in the room, nor their reactions. Not when Bucky steps close and pulls your hands into his grip. His head gives a small, hesitant shake and he locks onto your eyes. “Baby, I’m not bored. I just… we don’t need to do that shit anymore. We’re not still sneaking around.”

You drop your gaze, glance down at the large hands – one warm flesh, one cool metal – tenderly encasing yours. “I just… I don’t want you to get tired of me.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up into a cocky, crooked grin. “And you thought that you could prevent that by bringing in someone else for me to fuck?”

You shrug, still not looking up. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Man,” Sam breathes out from behind. “Where are you two getting your tips on how to spice up a relationship? Penthouse?”

You roll your eyes, tossing the Falcon a quick glare before – finally – looking back up at Bucky. “Fine. It was a bad idea. And an… awkward night.” You let out a sigh and slip from his grip, leaning heavily back into the counter before grumbling, “And, yes, there were too many… limbs and… appendages in the bed. And… and…” You shake your head absently, throwing your hands flippantly into the air. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t really know what I was grabbing… or who. I’m pretty sure I spent five minutes cupping my own boob.”

“No, that was me,” Bucky corrects quickly, just before a look of confusion washes over his face. “Unless that wasn’t your boob…”

You pull in a deep, settling breath, release it as an almost nervous chuckle. “Yeah, okay. Bad idea.”

“We only have a queen-sized bed,” he mutters, brows pitching high as his gaze trails off into space. “I don’t know what made you think there’d even be enough room for the three of us. I spent half the night with one foot on the floor.”

“She kept pulling my hair,” you lament lamely as you reach up to idly rub your still-sore scalp.

“No, that was me too,” he says with a shake of his head. “Didn’t mean to, but I was falling off the damn bed and you were the closest thing to grab hold of.”

“And there was so much… sweat,” you mutter with a disgusted lilt, looking up and connecting with Bucky’s far-off gaze, the two of you sharing a wholly commiserate slow nod. “Like a whole ‘nother body’s worth of sweat.”

“Yeah, why do you think I kept slipping.” He shrugs. “That, and I kept catching elbows from the barista any time I got too close.”

You snort out a laugh and curl into yourself – into him – an errant apology brewing in your chest, choking out of you in a pitiful grunt that only Bucky could possibly comprehend. “She said she was into it… into you.”

He lays his metal hand atop yours as it sits on the counter, twines your fingers together and gives a subtle squeeze. “Baby, that girl only had eyes for you.” Another shrug. “Not that I can blame her.”

“Okay, enough,” Steve says finally, his rather appalled demeanor giving way to an irritated expression and an utterly exasperated tone. “I’m sorry I ever asked. I didn’t want to know about… any of this. So why don’t you two just… go away, finish… making up… and let the rest of us figure out a way to scrub our brains clean?”

Just then Tony glides into the common room, “Scrub our brains clean of what?” falling casually from his lips as he heads for the kitchenette. He sidesteps Steve and reaches out to grab an apple from the counter, taking a giant bite before asking, mouth full and juicy, “What are we all talking about?”

Natasha sighs lightly, taking a final drink of coffee before setting her mug into the sink without so much as a clink. “The two love birds here had a three-way with the cute blonde from the coffee shop around the corner,” she recounts. “Only it turned out to be more of a… two-way with Barnes left on the outside looking in.”

Tony spins around towards Bucky, face an oddly expressionless mask. “Still worth the view, though?”

He shakes his head. “Not really, no.”

“Hm.” He takes another bite of apple before glancing over at Steve, swallows thickly and inquires, with a single brow raised high, “Take it the old man is none too pleased about your sexual escapades?”

Bucky shrugs and distractedly gives your hand another small squeeze. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“So I shouldn’t pull the footage from the south elevator to show at this year’s Christmas party?”

“Not if you want to make it to New Year’s.”

“Cute. Threats. Real nice.” Tony snickers under his breath, grabs another apple for the road, and turns to leave. “Don’t worry, Cap,” he says, stopping to pat Steve on the shoulder on his way out. “I’ve had all the communal spaces they’ve communed on thoroughly sanitized.” He tosses a quick glance back at you and Bucky, mutters, “Repeatedly,” with a raised brow, and sashays away.

Sam shakes his head impassively, beguiling twinkle bursting in his eye as he watches Steve recoil with a thick, disturbed sigh before he too turns and flees the room. “We’re living in a den of depravity,” the delighted Falcon breathes out, looking to you and offering a sly wink. “And, damn it… I like it.”

[theheartchoice]

dean/cas  |  15x13 coda  |  2.6k  |  (ao3) 

It feels strange, being back in his own clothes after wearing those of this world's Dean. Perhaps now that he's felt what is native to this universe against his skin, something from another universe, a place he called home, feels foreign in an understandable way. 

But it's more than that. Even back home he always felt like he was wearing someone else's clothes, living in someone else's skin. He loves hunting, loves his family, and at the very least has an appreciation for the funded support and security their life afforded them - especially after hearing what the other Winchesters have had to contend with. But at a certain point one may take stock of their life only to realise that the person in the mirror, however familiar, is also alien, somehow. 

However different their lives have been, the shock of meeting, of their paths converging, had worn off soon enough and was replaced with a respect for those differences. What this world's Sam and Dean have here is something he didn't know he wanted, and yet knows is vital to achieving true happiness. It was the very thing missing from his former life. 

Freedom. 

To not be dictated to, not have one's every move scrutenized, and not be restricted in the daily aspects of one's life - right down to the trivial, and moreover, the private. To wear what one wants, drink what one wants, live one's day as it comes and not be scheduled to the minute of every hour for months in advance. 

He mourns the loss of his world but he can't bring himself to miss it all that much. Things may be uncertain - which is a novel feeling - but they are no longer confined by Hunter Corp. or indeed the wishes (or rather, the demands) of their father. Here, they can live however they choose, and in meeting this world's Winchester brothers, in hearing their story, in learning about their world, he knows the possibilities outside of hunting are plentiful.

For the first time, retirement is a viable option. 

Laying the cherry-red-and-black plaid button-down on the bedspread, along with the dark crew-neck cotton shirt folded neatly, and the hip-riding jeans that do everything to flatter their respective bowleggedness, boots tucked in at the foot of the modest frame, he wonders if this world's Dean might allow him to keep one such outfit for himself. He's not certain if it's entirely his style, but he honestly doesn't know what his style is, yet. 

All he knows is that these clothes were comfortable; he's never known any garment to feel soft in that worn-in kind of way, a way his own clothes never had a chance to become. Blood stains and monster guts don't exactly wash out, even with their layers of top quality protective gear meant to keep it at bay, so every couple of months his wardrobe would cycle out and brand new pieces would filter in to fill his closet. It was like shedding one barely-worn skin for a stiff new one; nothing ever fit quite right, despite the tailoring. 

Slipping his beige jacket back on he reaches into the breast pocket and retrieves the pair of prayer-bead bracelets, sliding them back over his wrist. He hadn't wanted to remove them, but unlike his brother he heeded the warning of this world's Winchesters to make themselves appear authentic. His own clothes may not feel authentic to him - even less so now than they did previously - but these beads were chosen and paid for by him alone, with no middleman involved. They hold meaning, they are special, and perhaps the only thing not cycled out of rotation with the rest of his wardrobe when hunting made a mess of things. 

When he does change clothes again, he thinks, when he finds his own true sense of style and comfort, he knows these beads will stay with him; no matter what he wears, no matter where he goes, or who he discovers himself to be. 

There are three things that travelled with him through that portal that he knows are worth keeping, because they are real: his love for his brother, his love for his long-deceased mother, and his love for a lost Angel. 

  *  *  *

  Dean has said, as others have written, that soup is good for the soul. Now that Jack's soul has been restored - and his true appetite returned - it seems a fitting first meal. Which is why Castiel is currently defrosting a batch of Dean's homemade chicken soup in the microwave. 

He remembers the first time he tried to operate one of these machines; things did not go as planned. But the subsequent lesson from Dean had been worth cleaning up the mess. It had been just the two of them, standing side by side in the bunker's kitchen for what seemed to be longer than necessary to explain the basic functions and demonstrate to Castiel the best settings for particular needs - culinary, or otherwise. 

They've come a long way since then, despite their many painful trials. Castiel has learned much, and Dean's trust in him has grown. Even without words spoken, he knows this. He can feel it through the connection they share, have always shared, the profoundness of their bond; with his Angelic perception, Castiel can sense variations of emotion from Dean's soul. He can feel Dean's trust in him through the solid walls of the bunker just as he can see it in the form of a rotating container through a microwave window. 

There are some minutes left in the defrost-and-reheat cycle when the other world's Dean enters the kitchen. Castiel knows it's him before he speaks, before he himself turns around to see. 

"..Castiel?" 

It's Dean's voice, but not quite. Still, Castiel knows it as well as he knows Dean's soul: this Dean has something he wants to say. Castiel turns to face him, offering a friendly smile. "Hello, uhm.. Dean." It feels strange because it's Dean and not Dean, but it's not exactly the first time this has happened, so he pushes through the strangeness of it all. 

"Hi." His eyes are bright as they flick to the microwave humming on the benchtop. "I was hoping we could talk. Do you have a moment?" His smile is tentative, warm, but edged in sadness. It's familiar, in a way. The fidgeting of his hands is something new, but Castiel knows Dean to fidget in other ways when something is on his mind and making him restless, nervous, even. 

"Of course." Castiel moves to round the counter as the other Dean steps forward to join him. 

"There's something I want to ask you, before we leave." 

It had been a matter of tense discussion on the drive back from the church; while Jack slept beside Castiel, Dean, Sam and himself had talked about the Winchesters from the other world: where they should go, whether they would be safe from Chuck, whether they should stay in the bunker for a time - which was something neither Sam nor Dean found agreeable, and Castiel had conceded that it would not be sustainable. 

With Billie's plan in motion and Chuck's own endgame nearing, the safest place for the other Sam and Dean is as far away from the bunker as possible, for now at least. If they failed in their mission, however, no place in the world, or in any realm, would be safe for anyone. 

"You cook?" 

Is this the question the other world's Dean had wanted to ask him? "I.. microwave." A shy smile sneaks onto Castiel's face and the other Dean nods, looking perplexed. "Dean cooks, I just.. help where he needs me." 

"Oh." His face falls. "We've.. never needed to. Cook, I mean. There's always been room service, restaurants, and the like when we're away on a case. And we have―had―personal chefs at the estate, so.." 

"Ah. I see." The reminders of the loss of their world must be everywhere. Castiel wishes he knew this Dean well enough to know what to say to lessen the pain. Despite his mostly cheerful demeanor, Castiel can see the fluctuations in the wavelength of this Dean's soul; he is hurting. And this is familiar: observing Dean feeling one thing but expressing another. 

He can't help but wonder how much of the Dean he knows is carried through to other worlds, other Deans. Do they all have a love for cooking, or a desire to learn how to cook? Do they all have an unparalleled care for some sort of vehicle? Are there Deans out there who Castiel would not recognise by sight or sound? 

"You're an Angel." 

The statement brings his attention back into focus. "Yes." 

"And yet, you're so.." 

Castiel raises an eyebrow. 

"..human." 

Oh. It is possible, despite the spellwork needed for them to open a rift into an alternate universe, that this Dean has not encountered any Angels himself, or at least not ones who have made their home on Earth, among humanity; changing day by day, becoming more like humans in innumerable small - but not insignificant - ways. 

"It's just.. peculiar. My Castiel―" 

"―Your Castiel?" The clothing, the mannerisms, the stories of their world all differentiate this Dean from the one Castiel knows. But it's still jarring to hear that, of all things, in Dean's voice; to be claimed, in a way. Not like ownership but familiarity; intimacy. He's almost unwilling to let their conversation progress until this Dean clarifies what he meant. 

"Uhm," the other Dean clears his throat at what Castiel knows is his own visible confusion. "There was an Angel, in our universe, also named Castiel, but.." he looks away; at the floor, the wall, the microwave and it's container of soup. "We never met." Castiel waits, watching him as he watches the soup, until he says, quiet, "Not in the mortal realm, at least. He was.. out of my reach―quite literally―but.. he saved me, once. He watched over me.. And I would pray to him, now and then. Talk to him. Thank him.. Ask him how things were in the divine realm," he chuckles softly, ducking his head. 

"Did he.. respond?" Castiel keeps his voice equally quiet, suddenly eager to know as much as he can about this other Castiel and his relationship with this Dean. 

"In a way. Not with words, but he would.. visit me. In my dreams." 

Castiel has many questions, but the other Dean pushes on. 

"I was just wondering if you knew what happens to them. To Angels." He glances up at Castiel. "Where do you go?"

"Go? You mean..?" 

"I don't know what happened, exactly, but a few years ago the dream-visits stopped. And now, with our world gone, I just.." He lets go a sigh, shoulders drooping on the exhale. "You being an Angel, I hoped you might have a real answer. One way or another." His eyes are sad, his soul less luminous, for a moment, and it's achingly familiar; it's the presence of loss, deep in one's being. Castiel deplores the sight of it, the all too familiar pull of it. 

He wishes he knew the answer, if only because for certain things not knowing is worse than knowing, even if the outcome is not what one hoped for. It's a cruel reality, living with false hope. But, when there is no certainty, one cannot assume there is no hope. 

"Your world may have been vastly different to ours, in many ways―including your Angels, for all I know. But if there's one thing I've learned in my time here, in this world, it's that nothing is really impossible. You being here, now, proves that, I think." 

The other world's Dean brightens some, his soul noticeably less pained, however slight the change may be. The persistence of sadness dulls it in ripples, but sparks of hope shoot through the shadows. "Thankyou." His smile is less tentative as he turns to take his leave. 

The timer beeps, but before Castiel can retrieve a bowl from the cupboard the other world's Dean speaks up again. 

"He's lucky to have you." Castiel stills, glancing toward the doorway, seeing only earnestness in this Dean's face and soul just as he hears it carry through his voice. "I hope he knows that." With a small wave he disappears into the corridor, leaving Castiel to ponder on that sentiment, wondering whether the distance that his relationship with Dean has come in all these years is as far as it will ever go.  

 *  *  *

 It's instinctual. 

It's been a long time coming, and Dean feared maybe it never would, that Jack might never be himself again, but it's him. It's their kid, sitting hunched over and alone, tears of remorse flooding his voice and spilling down his cheeks. 

Dean's arms are wrapped around him, gathering him into a hug before he even registers his feet having moved. He tightens the embrace as Jack's chest jumps with hiccups, his hands grasping at Dean's shirt, tears soaking through the layers of cotton and warming his skin in a way that tears shouldn't; but this is Jack. 

As much as Dean can tell Jack's hurting right now, he also knows this is a good thing. The same way he knows it was a good thing when Sam got his soul back, and when Cas was freed of the Leviathan, and when Dean himself was rid of the Mark of Cain. 

They all have baggage. They've all done bad things they can't undo, and it hurts. But none of them were themselves when those things went down. And he's so tired of being angry, tired of defaulting to hatred, tired of not being able to change things for the better, to undo what's been done. 

But this right here―? This kid, pained and crying into his chest, snot and all―? It's a win. 

Sam sits on Jack's other side, rubbing his shoulder and back, letting him know he's there for him, too. They all are. Jack gravitates to him after a little while, leaning into his side as Sam pulls him near. Cas sits opposite them at the little wooden table, their family huddled together in the residual warmth of the kitchen, each of them silently reeling from the events of the day. 

They're one step closer to defeating Chuck, according to Billie, but for once it didn't cost them anything; instead of losing something, they gained something, someone. 

Dean catches Cas' eye across the table, presses his leg up against his where no-one can see. He smiles a tired, hopeful thing, wishing he was dumb enough or daring enough to reach across the scant space between them and take one of Cas' hand in his where they rest folded in front of him. 

Cas returns his smile, looking just as tired, just as hopeful, his leg pressing against Dean's under the table, and it feels like an answer to a question Dean still doesn't know how to ask. 

 *  *  *

 At a rest-stop by the Kansas state line bordering Oklahoma, while his brother fusses with a paper map and wonders aloud why on Earth this world's Winchesters don't have a dedicated GPS for each of their procured vehicles, Dean takes a moment outside of the car.

Under the fading stars as dawn approaches, prayer beads held in his hand instead of adorning it, he voices an invocation; murmured between his lips, held close to his heart, sent out into the universe―to every universe―impelled by his soul. 

Just one word, born of and survived by hope. 

A name. 

.. Castiel ..