#tfw you just locked the door but you need to check if it is locked

[miserymisume]

Certainty

[mittensmorgul]

Aah season 9. I’m watching 9.22 right now (*waves at Dabb from s15*) and crylaughing about how much s9 Metatron is just desperate to be Chuck.

METATRON: Yeah, and you met with the enemy... In secret. What is that old line about sins and stones? GADREEL: He spoke. He lied. And I listened. That's it. But I serve heaven. I serve you. METATRON: Good. Don't forget it. I mean, I-I don't get this whole Cas lovefest, either. I'm offering our people a way home, and still -- still, they're choosing him over me. I mean, sure, he's cute. And Castiel has this simple...charm. He's like a mentally deficient puppy. But I'm lovable. And funny. I made God laugh -- twice! GADREEL: You're the one who asked him to lead an army. METATRON: Well, I didn't think he'd be good at it.

Metatron is trying desperately to control the story, but he doesn’t understand the characters, and has completely miscast them for his purposes, you know? He could’ve written Gadreel as his villain, and rightly or wrongly, most of the other angels would’ve bought that story. They’d bought Gadreel’s original story and locked him in prison for millennia. But that’s not the story Metatron wanted to tell. He didn’t just want to elevate himself, he needed to villainize Cas, to cast him down in the eyes of all the angels. Yet all the while, Metatron wanted to BE Cas. He was even trying on trenchcoats. He was fascinated, and obsessed, with Cas.

All the angels Metatron convinced to explode themselves for Cas were CONVINCED they’d actually been approached by Cas himself. So another of Metatron’s “writer’s tricks” was this ability to create reality out of whole cloth. we KNOW Cas wasn’t the one who convinced Tessa to explode herself for the greater good or whatever, and yet:

TESSA: People like you, they never understand. Sacrifices have to be made. DEAN: So you go after one of the bad guys, and if a few humans get microwaved, no big deal, right? TESSA: In the grand scheme, they don't matter. DEAN: Oh, Tessa, you are so wrong. TESSA: When Castiel came to me and told me what I had to do, he said I was chosen because I was strong. Others...they couldn't handle this. They're too weak.

and

DEAN: Good times. Here's the deal. I like you, Tess, okay? For an angel. But tell me, why are you doing this? TESSA: Castiel. DEAN: No, forget Cas. Why are you doing this? What would make a person want to pop their top, huh? I mean, look, I've been in bad shape. I have. But I have never been that damn low. TESSA: I guess I just can't take the screaming. DEAN: Who's screaming? TESSA: All of them. The lost souls. The ones that can't get into heaven now that it's been boarded up. I hear them. They are so confused. They're in so much pain. All I want to do is help them. It's what I do. It's my job. But I can't. So I suffered... Until death, nothingness. Suddenly, it didn't seem so bad. It seemed quiet. DEAN: So, why don't you just jam an angel blade in your throat and call it a day? TESSA: I thought about it. But I was too weak. Till Castiel gave me a reason to die. DEAN: Yeah. See, that just doesn't sound like the Cas I know. TESSA: But doesn't it, though? And the Cas you know, would he raise an army of angels without telling you? 'Cause this Cas did. I'll tell you a secret. There's more out there...Like me. So many more.

And Dean said he was doing what he had to do, so did Tessa, as she killed herself with the first blade. She’d been driven to desperation. Then Metatron goes on about the very same thing. He engineered the experiences of all the angels-- from the bombers convinced Cas himself had recruited them. It’s... eerily similar to what Chuck has engineered in 15.05. It’s like the entire “case” was engineered specifically to lure Sam and Dean, right down to the victim they swore to protect appearing to be Lilith on a mission to destroy the Equalizer gun. I mean, for all Chuck’s machinations, he could’ve written it as Dagon instead of Lilith, you know? But Chuck’s somehow still stuck in the “old days” of the story, and even his cast of side characters is reflecting that now.

GADREEL: Tessa, Constantine -- I recruited them, and you brainwashed them into blowing themselves up. METATRON: So? Well, that's an old writer's trick -- flipping the script. You start by building up a seemingly unbeatable enemy, like the death star, or a rival angel with a bigger army. That way, I look like the underdog. But then, oh, no! The competition gets greedy. He starts pushing things too much. With the help of my combustible double agents. And then, after a rousing speech, his true weakness is revealed. He's in love with humanity. And now...I'm inevitable.

Isn’t this exactly the way Chuck is “writing” for himself in s15? Metatron will eventually tell Chuck (in 11.20) that in his descent into evil villainy, he’d only been following Chuck’s own playbook, writing from Chuck’s own story. Metatron engineered every circumstance in his rise to power. While I’ve been typing, 9.23 has been playing now, and the entire scenario with the woman conveniently hit by a truck and killed right where Metatron happened to be on the scene to resurrect her ON CAMERA, his entire “miracle” broadcast out on Youtube the way he used the Heaven Microphone to broadcast his propaganda to every angel at once... Even with “God power,” Metatron still needed to engineer circumstances, and circumstances still weren’t guaranteed to play out exactly as he expected or intended. Because his plans couldn’t account for free will, just as Chuck’s can’t in s15.

Team free will is horrifically broken. Sure, they’re all on the same side, but the fractures between Sam, Dean, and Cas are severely limiting their ability to truly achieve a “win.” Dean, driven in part by the Mark but also just from his own frustration and anger and guilt (which drove him to take the mark in the first place), hasn’t had an appropriate outlet for his anger (which will be lampshaded by his eventual impotently angry speech to Metatron in 9.23 before his ultimate failure).

In s15, it’s Sam with a “mark of cosmic significance,” with an unwanted connection to Chuck the way the Mark once connected Dean to Amara. And now that we’re about to move into s10 on the tnt loop, I feel like I’ve been waiting for five years for Dabb to finally get his revenge on the 23 episode narrative failure of s10′s mytharc, this time “flipping the script,” as Metatron once called it, in favor of TFW.

At the end of Dean is on the outs with Cas because of Cosmic Nonsense interfering directly between them. Dean’s anger at Cas comes to a head, and it’s revealed that the real target of Dean’s anger is Metatron. As Cas tries to tell Hannah while he’s trapped in Heaven Jail, Metatron is the cause of all of their suffering. They only need to expose that fact and confront him. If only, for once, they could get out ahead of Chuck’s script.

DEAN: You've been working those people outside for, what, a day? They've already spilled blood in your name. You are nothing but Bernie Madoff with wings. METATRON [rising to his feet from the floor]: So I'm a fake. Do you have any idea how much pan-cake makeup and soft lighting it took to get God to work a rope line? He hated it. And, you know, humans sense that. So they prayed harder and longer and fought more wars in his name. And for what?! So they could die of malaria? Leukemia? And all the while, blaming themselves! "Oh, if only I'd been more prayerful, "God would have loved me! God would have saved me!" You know what?! God didn't even know their name! But I do. Because I've walked among them. And I can save them. DEAN: Sure, you can. So long as your mug is in every Bible and "What would Metatron do?" is on every bumper. METATRON: And? What, are you blaming me for giving them what they want, giving them a brand they can believe in? DEAN [starting to unwrap the First Blade in his hand]: I'm blaming you for Kevin! I'm blaming you for taking Cas' Grace. Hell, I'm blaming you for the Cubs not winning The World Series in the last 100 freaking years. Whatever it is... I'm blaming you.

Metatron wanted to be Chuck so bad, right down to insisting everyone call him Marv like he was just folks. Right down to using the same manipulation on Dean that he would eventually use on Cas.

METATRON: And you're powered by the bone of a jackass, and it is just awesome, right? Here's a tip -- next time, try to be powered by the word of God.

LOL. The word of God has lost a lot of its power in s15, and even Amara-- aka the source of power for that jackass bone-- has even pointed it out to him. But once again, Chuck’s favorite plot seemed to be working out anyway, through Metatron’s plagiarized story-- One brother sacrificed, check. But something went sideways. Dean and the Tablet shattered at the same moment. 

METATRON: Ah. So Gadreel bites the dust. And the Angel tablet -- arguably the most powerful instrument in the history of the universe -- is in pieces, and for what again? Oh, that's right -- to save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but ultimately, it was all about saving one human, right? Well, guess what. He's dead, too.

[...]

METATRON: You know, why you could never quite pull it together, Castiel? While you're sitting here with Your Grace slowly burning away and your reputation long extinguished? No curiosity. You didn't read enough. You never learned how to tell a good story. CASTIEL [looking straight at METATRON]: But you did. [CASTIEL swings his eyes over to the desk where METATRON's all-angel microphone sits with the switch on, broadcasting his entire speech to every angel in Heaven and Earth. The doors fly open and many angels walk in and take METATRON captive. CASTIEL raises an angle blade but then doesn't use it.]

The words were the thing. And whoever truly understands the whole story holds the key.

Sorry this got so rambly (I think everyone expects that of me anyway), but this is exactly what s15 is subverting, FINALLY. And not through the proxy of Metatron the Scribe, Metatron the Editor, and Chuck’s written word, but finally placing his due with Chuck The Author himself.

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

“So Happy Together” Analysis

i don’t sleep

tl;dr: tbh not much to go off on about. i think we see a new skin for Iron Bear, one with some stripes. amara smiles, i do talk a little bit about little sisters in bioshock but tbh i think this was all just a stylistic choice lol. oh and handsome jack’s masks- probably Mount Jackmore. i don’t want to get to freaked out over jack returning, but damn gearbox lol u had me there for a second. im pretty sure it’s just a reused cut quest from bl2 that they never got to implement. 

EDIT: here’s all the cut content in bl2 (plus all the non-cut content as well for funsies). you can go to the cut quests and see the audio files for claptrap’s jackmore quest

holy shit can i just vomit all my emotions rn, they’re all good so imma do that so im rational when i start analyzing stuff okay? okay! 

holy shit that was fucking great and im really glad i tempered my expectations to something smaller than i thought because i feel bad for people expecting something huge, i was under the assumption we’d be getting a new mechanic that was like ‘choose ur +1 and they’ll be able to play the game with you if you’re both online even if they don’t have the game�� which was what someone said on reddit. altho im sure the poor company is gonna get spammed now with hate like ‘WTF YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE BUILT THIS UP AAAA’. not to lie, i was slightly disappointed it wasn’t a longer stream, but i mean if they’ve got nothing to announce, they’ve got nothing to announce and HEY! new trailer!!! gonna be combing thru on the assumption this has some easter eggs like the MoM trailer did, just in case. i thought it was a cute trailer, gearbox never explicitly said what it was gonna be, a lot people all just assumed what was gonna happen was a demo/beta which sucks so i hope this doesn’t negatively impact people’s perspective of the game. im staying off reddit for now bc when i first checked it people were pretty pissed and i dun need that negativity lmao

okay! emotions are LOCKED behind closed doors. i am shifting into study mode. here we go boys/girls/those of us who know better. haven’t done one of these in a while, let’s see if im rusty at all.

claptrap! and the skull on the chair which reminds me of tyreen’s “favorite skull”. 

tv says “we are under attack, please stand by”

and afaik claptrap is near the beginning of the game, you can see part of the recruitment center behind him when the camera pans.

im thinking there might be something in the roses, specifically the hand-drawn roses later on in the trailer. will be keeping an eye open for that.

this is specifically a jakobs brand chest. i really like the see-through aesthetic of it

intro area of the game again. possible hint to the opening cutscene? tbh i was worried that’s what we were about to get because i haven’t finished the roughs of my mock up lol

so what i didn’t notice my first time through is that you can then see claptrap, also being shown in the chest

waving up at the camera. that’s not trippy at all or anything lol

this car in the foreground (with no one driving it, mind you)

randomly combusts, looking quite like elpis in that one shot of the claptrap presents pandora trailer. wonder if that means it’s gonna ‘splode.

ohhh it spins. please no spin imma get motion sick blech

shot of some cultists. one appears to have a jetpack near the bottom right there

another explosion to the beat

the shock wave!!!! that’s awesome

shock nomads cultists are back. f in chat for our shields

another cultist seconds before he gets blown to bits

it cuts to black for a secco as it moves thru said explosion

another cultist, i assume a psycho

finally some good fucking angles

heh.

idk what i expected from someone who’s first action skill line i ever heard was them shouting MAGIC WALL!!! TAAAADAAAAAAAAH

as a side note

who is shooting those lasers

we see them coming from behind the VHs, but

there’s nothing there

SPOOKY~

they’re coming from... the wall???

tfw u shot urself in the foot on accident

amara is not amused

`is this some human custom i don’t understand yet`

also i hate that i’ve done this exact dance before when i took dance classes as a kid

with less style of course, i was like 7

moze is into it, hell yeah

this reminds me a lot of Kingsman. where all the blood is like fireworks and stuff. i wonder if that has anything to do with the psycho brainwashing. like little sisters in bioshock. they see roses instead of blood, right? maybe there’s something like that going on with the psychos

i’d certainly hope our vault hunters aren’t brainwashed, anyway.

this dude looking SHOCKED to see that tho, lmfao

i relate to this man on a spiritual level i stg

man he looks pissed

omfg lol

“um”

“i guess this is okay”

the body language in this is gold i am just having the time of my life

adsfdgfhgjhgfk

this is so cute

also in retrospect, i think this is one of the turrets we see on promethea. i wonder what it’s doing here!

moze u ok?

oh nvm she’s into it, look at her! she’s dancing! She’s Dancin’!

oooo one of the robots from the we are mayhem trailer! okay you can totally see why i think they’re jakobs, RIGHT???

iirc this is a maliwan soldier

man this is a crossover event, isn’t it?

i get it now. togetherness. i gotchu gearbox.

some maliwan ships in the sky. possibly sanc-iii on the right? or a ship of the same model as sanc-iii!

this is a magitek dropship, change my mind

eh, they both start with M, fuck it.

no idea what fl4k is doing here

mayyyybe shielding themselves from the ‘firework’/confetti shower

i like that the confetti explosions are backed up by purple, you know like eridium/slag/siren powers. seriously, maybe this is just how to cultists see us Vault Hunters and the mass murder.

at the very least, the psychos.

fl4k’s into it. i wish we knew the name of their skag, if it has one. i hope it does.

well now the lasers are coming from the other side! what the hell

moving on

i think this is the HBC from the speakers, plus im pretty sure that skull and the stained glass are the entrance to mouthpiece’s arena

we also get a different colored explosion. im paranoid jack is somehow making a return (please god no), so i’ll just note it’s the same color as his eyes.

AND the chests are vomiting out gold guns, which i think, gold-plated gear, is the cult’s way of signifying standing. which im sure is a tongue-in-cheek commentary as gearbox gives out a gold weapon pack as a pre-order bonus. no, like, it even shows up as an ad on the video

smh gearbox lmao

oh, also, the cultists are doing fuckin flying impressions

im not saying its a reference to the cultist with rakk wings on the cover, buuuut

bitch it might be lol

it’s an upside-down vault symbol! ive been trying to figure out what that is in those screens for the longest time!

back on promethea and we get to see fl4k’s spiderant in action

their skag, too, of course

the jabbermon in the back there, too! i wonder if they’re going to be shock or cryo. i would imagine shock given how they’re glowing

also i love the way the flowers look in contrast to the character models

moze is so happy aw

i love the way fl4k’s skag comes flying in and slides to a stop. such a good doggo ;-;

this is beautiful, i want it as a wallpaper

moze skipping? holy shit

100% verified the best thing i’ve ever seen

i lied. this is.

is this the fast travel station effect?

also! IB is looking a bit different

i wonder if this is a redesign or if IB is wearing a new skin moze picked out

pan over to zane who clearly doesn’t notice the being of darkness and horror in the doorway

oh also, we’re on eden-6 now. which would explain the fast travel effect

psychos dancing on the rooftops lol

oh god my eyes

nothing to really say here, i just like this screenshot

pink shields booyah

this is so fucking cute

we also get a better look at that one facility on eden-6

is that... red i see? >w> i won’t say it i won’t i won’t say it i swear i just- ATLAS

fuck

i like that zane’s clone spawns with his melee attachment

not AS excited as the real life version though

GB pls let this be a zane emote

is that a varkid? on eden-6?

wtf is a varkid doing on eden-6???

more shots of the facility btw. reminds me a lot of sanc-iii so maybe this actually is the supamax mfg construction facility like i originally thought. hmmmmmmm

ah yes, of course

holy shit what is this a reference to?

im told it’s the sex pistols

the back of the bullet turns into Athenas

pans in

amara!

enemy with a top hat on. some variation of/upgraded gravedigger? it’s like a psycho but recolored with blue pants and a top hat. you can see it fall off when amara shoots him

y’know, these guys

some rakk in the background

i am hoping bc this is a celebration of togetherness we’re seeing all enemies everywhere, not that the planets don’t have their own unique fauna.

she’s so happy omfg

oh, you want some?

Uhhh then there’s THIS sequence

they’re doing the flying thing again lmao

there’s also whatever that black blob is on the left. a spaceship maybe?

car wheel

all their eyes started glowing red. uh oh gamers

also another fast travel effect

hmmmm... zarpedon is that you??

back on pandora.

“super 87 racetrack”, maybe this is near that motorcade fast travel we saw?

huzzah! rainbows!

i do believe that’s sanctuary-iii

another ship. drop ship?

elpis is looking nice this time of year. definitely not explode-y. yet.

pret-ty sure that’s iron bear. moze is standing atop the tower lmao

also! back to it’s old paint scheme. looks like moze was using a skin or smth

we also have this. are my eyes failing me or is that a big cross on the left? could be where jack was buried. 

also i know there was cut content in bl2 about Mount Jackmore! and this looks like a Mount Jackmore to me. it’s a cut quest where claptrap asks you to basically ruin the thing. but since the quest was cut, it’s still here in bl3. maybe they’ll reintegrate the quest lol

i can’t imagine it being roland’s gravesite. because it looks like the below.

i do know we’re going to roland’s grave in bl3, but the statues don’t really match up. maybe it is and the statues were broken, or ruined or something and replaced by a cross. could be then that the gravesite was defaced with, well, the guy that killed him. 

im really hoping jack doesn’t make a return. im fine with dealing with what he set in motion, and his influence, and probably even some ECHO logs and movie trailers, but please, for the love of god, don’t actually bring him back, AI or otherwise. im really excited for the calypso twins, i’d really hate to see the focus shift back to that guy. he’s had his fingers in every borderlands game. it’s time to let him go.

idk what this is exactly. it looks like maybe that weird eye bot troy stands next to in the intro for the behind closed doors panel?

goodbye mr magical jakobs chest, it’s been real

the RC now has red drapes going down it. have those always been there? i don’t remember those

hmmmmmmmmm maybe we’re looking at it from the back 🤔

anyway, that’s all she wrote. i haven’t see any hidden morse code messages or anything yet, but if something surfaces, i’ll be sure to add it here.

[life-love-geekculture]

SPN 4x19: A few thoughts

This is not how this works, this is not how any of this is supposed to work.

So, let’s talk about the box.

On a good day, this would have been a not-so-great plan. If Jack had gone loco on a random person and events played out; it is not outside the realm of possibility for the boys to lock him in there till a fix could be found. They’ve done it before. Dean’s tricked Sam into Bobby’s old safe-room. Like I said not a great plan but an understandable one given the circumstances. With Mary as the victim, however and emotions running high, what started as a crap plan morphed into a very very bad one.

I’m not condoning what the boys did. In fact I literally screamed at my monitor, “Samuel Winchester, I am ashamed of you!” Yet, I don’t entirely blame them for it either.

I make no secret of the fact I fully believe Jack’s soul is still present. Besides Rowena’s description of Nephilim nature, soulless people in the series have never been shown to run or hide away from the consequences of their actions. Cover them up to avoid inconvenience, sure, but generally they just don’t care. Jack still very much cares what the Winchesters think. His attempt to resurrect Mary showed all the hallmarks of scared desperation and Dumah’s manipulation (and, oh, we will get there) orbited that same sphere. And yet, the casual tone to which he referred to Mary’s death sent a chill down my spine. Even being familiar with Jack’s odd vocal cadence, it’s clear something is wrong. And unfortunately neither of the boys are in the headspace to recognize it.

I know over the next few days Dean is going to get dragged through the mud as the coldest bastard to ever appear on this show. That or he’s going to be labeled OOC, I’m not here to tell people they’re wrong (okay, that’s not entirely true, I love to tell people they’re wrong). I’m merely going to point out the scene of the boys closing the door on Jack. There’s a brief close-up of Dean’s face as they hear Jack’s cry and for a good minute the mask slips. This is not a man who is happy with himself or proud of what he and his brother have done. There’s clear guilt present. And what does he do immediately after? Try to numb himself and avoid talking about the next steps. Dean is so wrapped up in grief, and guilt, and anger that he is shutting himself down to any and all solutions. It’s not good but it’s incredibly true to his character. The fact it was Mary and it was his son who killed her....some backsliding in character development is understandable. All I know is in times like these, he (Sam or Cas) always manage to pull himself/Dean back from the brink. Which is why Archangel bullets aside, I don’t believe he’ll go through with trying to kill Jack. I do, though, have a sinking feeling this will lead to someone else getting shot.

Now, let’s talk about Dumah. In all honesty, I’m not surprised by her plan. At most there are 10, 11 angels left in existence. They just had their home brutally attacked by a powerful force, just like the Bunker (oh, hey check out the parallels), and it’s something no one would have dared to try in eons. Needing to replenish forces, needing to project heaven as strong and safe...it’s a very human thing to do. Like the Winchesters, I don’t condone the choice but I understand it. That said, Cas is a beast and MVP (Most Valuable Parent) for the entirety of the season.

Next, we need to talk about Hallucifer

Again, this is a theory I’ve written about several times. Pulling out a fake-out Sam death so close to the finale always seemed a little odd to me. Add to the mix death-by-head-wound which is so mundane for a Winchester, it screams narrative significance. Taking what we know from the last time an angel repaired Sam’s head (ie Castiel), it appears the psychological damage of the cage or even being possessed by Lucifer himself can be transferred from humans to angels. I suspect some transferred to Jack, which is why he is seeing Hallucifer right now. What any of this has to do with the main plot, I have no clue. Though, I do find it interesting we haven’t precisely seen what happened to Mary. Just the moments leading up to her death.

I guess to sum this all up, I’m very concerned where TFW 2.0 is going into the finale. Cas is by far the most stable, but he’s also in the most danger. Jack...I agree with Cas that he is redeemable, but a core problem (Hallucifer) needs to be adressed. And, I worry what will happen if he gets his full soul back. He’s naive enough to the world that that kind of guilt and pain can backfire so easily. I have every bit of faith Dean will make the right call eventually. But he has to bull himself to the edge to do so. It’s Sam I worry the most about though. While this season has been rough for everyone, Sam seems to have taken the brunt of the beatings practically from the background. In short order he’s: lost a brother to possession (twice), had said brother almost attempt magical suicide without telling him, briefly lost a son, watched men and women he lead die in part because he couldn’t lose his brother, his son has lost a good chunk of soul, Sam was brainwashed, then almost died, and now his mother’s actually dead. Retracing old patterns, where Dean needs to lick his wounds in private, Sam needs to talk. And props to Jared Padalecki this episode (as well as Jensen) for projecting the sheer amount of grief Sam is suffocating under because Dean won’t stop for five seconds. The kid needs a break (I say of a character a few years my senior and a full head and shoulders taller than me.)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wan High Weeping (Part 34)

TFW when windows updates completely obliterates your laptops drivers and internal hardware and you’re stuck using your mom’s computer until she needs to take it back.

I present to ya’ll Fanfiction: Speed Round. I had to pump this thing out lightning fast so, apologies if the chapter isn’t as good. There was some stuff I wanted to add more details too but my mom was practically leaning over my shoulder.

It was all so overwhelming, really. TyLee felt almost as disoriented as she had during the party itself. Sure she had helped Katara but she couldn’t help but feel as though what happened had been partially her responsibility. If she would have only found the courage to speak up about her own mishap. Then Jet might have been locked up before he even had the chance to start spreading his sabotaging rumors. She wished that she had told someone, anyone. At least one person. And Katara had almost paid the price for her cowardice. She took a deep breath, she had to think about it different, had to focus on what she had done right, lest she eat herself alive with guilt. She had yelled at Chan, she had recorded enough to prove a case.

She only wished that she had caught Chan wailing on Jet too. Take care of two school terrors in one graceful sweep. But she had stopped recording and hid her phone instead. It was becoming apparent  that she wasn’t much of a risk taker.

 She sat quietly for a long while as the police filled out some paperwork. They let her hang onto her phone but she wasn’t in the mood for texting. She didn’t really have anyone to text. Mai had left her behind again, the girl was on a streak of doing so. Katara was busy in the hospital, probably still out cold. Sokka was in a holding cell, probably next to the one Jet would fill once he got the medical attention that he didn’t deserve. And Suki, she didn’t know her well enough to confide in her.

 The door opened and she braced herself for a stream of uncomfortable questions. The man entered with a clipboard and a pen. He seated himself at the other end of the desk and laid his papers out. “Are you fine with answering some questions for me?”

 TyLee nodded. Better to get things over with.

 “From the beginning, can you describe the incident to the best of your ability tell me what happened last night.”

 TyLee thought for a moment. She just hoped that it wasn’t too late. “Last night wasn’t the beginning.” She took a deep breath. “I’d like to report another incident.”

 The man inclined his head. “And what would that be?”

 “Last year, I was…I was raped during a homecoming party, by the same guy from last night.”

 “And why didn’t you report this?”

 Her face crinkled unpleasantly. “I was scared.”

 The man nodded, “mmhm.” The response of a skeptic. She wished that the police officer assigned to her was female. But he surprised her. “That will complicate things some, but if we can prove him guilty of the most recent assault we can probably get him for past crimes.” He paused. “Did you, by chance, seek any medical attention after your assault?”

 “Sort of.” TyLee mumbled. “I bought a pregnancy test. I also went to have a check up, but I told the doctor that it was consensual.” She wanted to cry, if anything she had set herself up to fail.

 The man nodded. “I’ll see to it that someone looks into that. It is my understanding that you have recorded evidence that will help us with the most recent case—and by extension, your own.”

 “I do.” She replied.

 “May I take a look?”

 She handed him her phone.

 “Sokka isn’t in too much trouble, is he?”

 “He is an adult who had beaten a minor.”

 “He was defending his sister!” She didn’t mean to take her anger out on the man who seemed to be on her side.

 “Yes, this case has a lot of layers and grey areas. Which is why I’m going to need a lot of help here. Is it okay if I pull you out of class, on Monday? Perhaps a few other days as well.”

 “That would be fine.”

“For now, we will bring you in as a witness. After this case is settled, we can talk about bringing you to court as the plaintiff.”

 TyLee nodded, the offer was better than none at all. At least they would humor her.

 .oOo.

 Monday morning was drab and then hectic and then dull again. She drove herself to school, dwelling all too much on what she could have done. Homeroom with Kyoshi was a bore and did little to keep her mind from wandering. Wandering and replaying things that were mercifully fuzzy and then things that were so very painfully vivid. The sight of Katara laying topless and motionless haunted her almost more than the muddled sensory tidbits of her own assault. Time had taken at least some of the edge off of those memories. And an unhealthy dissociation from the event, did the rest. But the more she thought about Katara laying there, the easier it was to plaster her face and body onto the memory. She bit her lip and tried to focus on the autobiography assignment.

The assignment!

She had written all about the Halloween party in that notebook. For a moment she was thrilled, she had a paper copy of her account already written, and nearly right after everything had taken place. Her mind brightened again, because she recalled her diary. The diary she had been keeping since freshmen year. The diary she had written about her own case in.

She had dates.

Dates and times and details.

 She almost wanted to throw her arms around Kyoshi for giving such a practical and useful assignment. Instead, when the bell rang, she settled for a cheerful thank you that aroused a befuddled expression and a very typically stiff Kyoshi-style you’re welcome.

  As promised, she was taken to the office in the middle of fourth hour for more questioning, with any luck, she’d be free to go by fifth hour lunch. She detailed, to the best of her ability, the events that unfolded on Halloween. She watched officer Yu-Ron jot her words down. On occasions he would glance at his watch until eventually he said, “it looks like I’m going to have to send you back to class now, expect to be back for more questioning on Wednesday.” He paused. “Wednesday, we will wrap things up and if we need you for further investigation, we will call.” He pulled out a business card of sorts. “And if you need to call us, feel free.”

 “I have something that could help you with your investigation. It’s a diary and it has dates and stuff.” TyLee informed. “I’ll bring it with me on Wednesday.”

 Yu-Ron smiled. “Anything helps, you’re making this much easier. From the sound of it, this case will go pretty smoothly.”

 At least on her end and Katara’s. She imagined that Sokka wasn’t out of the water and she felt awful for the man who should be back at his university.

 She found her spot by the rest of her poms team. She was still getting used to their lively chatter and company. A struggle, but one that she needed to endure. She was tired of isolating herself. She hoped that some of their perkiness would rub off on her, help her get back to the old TyLee. With more intensity, she hoped that her dour attitude wouldn’t have them pushing her out.

But they bore with her.

They reminded her that she was handling things like a champ until she was beaming from ear to ear. Once again, she found herself glad that she hadn’t dropped the poms team altogether.  

 She did however, drop Mai.

During sixth hour she requested a seat change.

 .oOo.

 It was nice to not have to deal with police and a barrage of questions. She never thought that she would be so eager to see Zhao for math. Okay, so that might have been a stretch, somehow answering Yu-Ron’s questions was easier than answering Zhao’s. At least Yu-Ron didn’t make her feel like an idiot for wrong or insufficient answers. Zhao had well and earned his reputation as Wan High’s most hated teacher.

 When the bell rang she kept an eye out for Katara, but the girl proved to be very elusive. She supposed that she didn’t blame her for not stopping to talk to anyone. She probably didn’t have the energy for it. Hell, TyLee was surprised to see her back in school so soon. But then, it had been easier for TyLee to keep herself busy, and if Wan High was good for anything, it would be that.

 She texted Katara to see if she wanted a ride home. It relieved her to find that, in light of things, Katara’s mother was able to get off of work early to pick her up from school. She texted back, ‘well, if you need a ride to school, let me know.’

 She slipped her phone back into her pocket and headed for the door. She had nearly exited the building when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

 Just the person she didn’t want to see. "Oh, hi Azula." She greeted dryly. The only solace was that she wasn’t speaking to Mai—the very last person she wanted to see. Granted, Azula was only a hair above her on that list.

 Azula was quiet for a long while. A long while that TyLee didn’t have time for. But, by all means, she really did want to hear what the girl had to say. She made no comment, instead opting to ask a question. "Why didn't you tell me?"

 It sent prickles of irritation in TyLee’s belly.  For the first time she considered that Azula had the self-awareness of a rock. "Because, you're you." She muttered. "I saw how you treated Katara and you were close to Jet. Why would you believe me? You didn't even answer your phone. You and Mai…you both left me."

 "I thought that you were ignoring your texts." A real copout answer.

 "You didn't think that something could be wrong!?” TyLee threw her hands up. “You've known me since we were kids and I always replied to your texts right away—because I knew you would get mad if I didn't, by the way.” She paused. Feeling particularly spiteful, she asked, “wo, were you?"

 "What?" Azula returned the question.

 "Were you mad? That night. Were you mad that I didn't text you back right away? Is that why you just left with Mai? Well sorry, I was a little busy."

 Confusion and confliction weren’t emotions that Azula wore openly. So TyLee was surprised to see such a blunt expression of them. "I don't think that I was mad. I just knew that Mai needed a ride home and that her mother would have a meltdown if I didn't get her home."

 TyLee didn’t know how to react to it. There was something wrong about the display. At first she thought that it was because Azula was trying to toy with her again. Trying to lie through her teeth. So she just stared at the other girl. Stared until is started to settle that something was off, because the explanation seemed so sincere.

  "I wouldn't have talked to him if you would have said something. I wish that you would have said something…"

 And she is vexed all over again. Was Azula blaming her? Was she that socially inept? "I wish that you didn't make me feel like I couldn't." She replied with a venom.

 "I also wish that I didn't." Her response was so quiet that it threw TyLee off all over again. There was another drawn out window of silence that almost left TyLee feeling bad for having snapped at her former friend. She could swear that she saw Azula crumbling right before her. Something about the way her eyes dulled. She muttered something and made a retreat.

 TyLee sighed. There was something about her that looked so broken. So defeated. And perhaps that is what coaxed her to rush to the girl’s car and give the window a few knocks. She was half-surprised to hear the door unlock. She slipped into the car. Somehow it felt like home, she had been in it so much. It still smelled like Azula. Like extravagant perfume and a tinge of incense. It put an ache in her belly to think that she hadn’t been in this car since that stupid party. It had to have been at least a year and she wondered if Azula was getting lonely. It was hard to imagine someone like Azula getting lonely.

Perhaps one day they could take a drive together, like old times.

Hell, it almost made her want to reconcile with Mai.

 Lost in nostalgia, she almost didn’t catch Azula softly admit, "I don't want you to be mad at me."

 "I don't want to be mad at you…" TyLee agreed. Maybe she was being a little too hard on her ex-friend. No, not ex, she decided to herself. "I. It's not your fault, you didn't know. If it makes you feel better, I was mad at Mai too for a while." What was she saying, she was still mad at Mai. Still furious? At least Azula was putting in some effort here. She couldn’t say the same for Mai. But then, she didn’t really know Mai to put much effort nor passion into anything that wasn’t fighting with Zuko. "It's Jet's fault. All of this is Jet's fault. I blamed Chan too, but he was just the host."

She hoped that, that at least took a little sting off of Azula. One that she had probably created in the first place. She was putting a lot on Azula.

She was putting a lot on herself.

 She almost cracked a smile, who knew that talking to Azula would help her realize that she wasn’t to blame at all for her own struggling. She was a victim, there were things that she could have done differently, but fear could take away logic. What matters was that she was able to save someone else. Maybe they wouldn’t get Jet for what he did to her. But in getting him locked up for Katara, she could have some resolve regardless.

The last of her resentment towards the girl sitting next to her melted away.

 There is one thing that she still had to confess. "I think that, that's what Jet wanted. He wanted me to blame you guys because…" That was the one remaining thing that she wished that she hadn’t done. "Because that way, I had no one to talk to. The worst part is, it worked. I was so alone…"

 "And then…"

 TyLee rubbed her eyes and let her smile spread in full. "I found Katara."

 "You saved her?"  

 TyLee couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement so she replied, "I guess you can say that."

 She noticed that Azula was smiling. A very soft, somewhat melancholy smile. But it was there no less. "That counts for something, right? At least you didn't let it happen to someone else." She paused. "From the sound of it you were pretty fierce, glad I was able to teach you something."

 TyLee had to laugh, it was the kind of ending statement that only Azula would make. She didn’t just realize how much she missed the girl and her underlying social-awkwardness.  "I guess so."

 "Do you need a ride home?" Azula asked.

 The offer delighted her. It was the offer she was kind of hoping for and she was ready to take her up on it. Her elated mood dropped at the realization that the school would have her car towed or ticketed if she just left it in the lot. "I would take your offer, but I kinda can't just leave my car here over night." She didn’t want to offend Azula or give her the wrong idea so she quickly added, "but, uh, maybe you can come by tomorrow…if the police to pull me in for more questioning again."

 Azula nodded, looking wholly withdrawn and she knew that the girl had taken it the wrong way. She wondered if she should let Azula take her home and then get someone else to drive her back to pick up her car. Ultimately, she decided to make a promise to herself to get a ride to school and let Azula take her home tomorrow.

 .oOo.

 She was eager to hear how things had gone for Katara. Late in the night, the girl had texted her with a promise to tell her about how the investigation was going. She was itching for an update about Sokka too, supposedly he had gone in for questioning right after her on Monday. Hopefully, Katara had some good news.

 She had the mercy of escaping fourth hour math again. She held her diary close to her chest. As petty as it was, she almost didn’t want to hand it over for fear that she wouldn’t get it back. Maybe she should just tear the useful pages out of it and hand those over, that way she wouldn’t have to give up her precious and happy memories.

 Much of what they talked over was a rehash of the same questions, likely to make sure that her story didn’t change. Yu-Ron then inquired more about Sokka and what she had witnessed. She had to affirm that she had indeed saw him slamming his fist into Jet’s face and then kicking him a few times. But she reiterated that Chan had actually done most of the work.

To be frank, she was afraid of Chan. The man had an eruptive temper. The temper that only Azula could really control. She didn’t know how Azula managed to keep him in check, but then, Azula in her own way was an imposing girl.

 The last half hour, which ended up bleeding into her lunch period, was spent discussing a little further, what happened to her at the homecoming party. At which time she had torn the pages from her diary and handed them over. She also turned over a printed copy of her first draft of Kyoshi’s autobiography assignment.

 Yu-Ron stood and shook her hand. “Thank you, TyLee. You have been very helpful. Between you and Katara, I think that we have a very sturdy case. Believe it or not Chan has helped too.”

 “You questioned him?”

 “I am not allowed to say much, but we had talked to him briefly on the night of the incident.”

 TyLee nodded, she almost regretted asking, now her curiosity was piqued and it wouldn’t be satisfied. She stepped out of the adjoining room and back into the principal’s office. She only had the chance to  her hand on the doorknob when Bumi stopped her.

 “We’re under lockdown.”

 “Lockdown!?” She jolted. “Shouldn’t we be hiding.”

 Bumi shook his head. “Soft lockdown.”

 So a drug bust, she thought to herself. She looked into the parking lot to see flashing red and blue. A line of police cars and ambulances and even one firetruck. “What’s going on?”

 “We have a student who needs hospitalization.” It was then that she realized that Bumi wasn’t being his kooky self.

 “Are they okay?”

 “It doesn’t sound too good.” Bumi mumbled and she knew that, that was all she would be getting out of him. Granted news would probably travel around the school pretty quickly.

 TyLee glanced out the window just in time to see a gurney being hoisted into the ambulance. Some part of her shuddered.

 .oOo.

 She found Katara after class. Katara who somehow managed to look more teary eyed and distraught than usual.

 “Are you okay, Katara?”

 “I…” Katara trailed off. “Too much is happening at once.” Her voice cracked.

 TyLee tilted her head.  “What’s going on?”

 “She killed herself, Ty.” Katara’s voice hitched. And with the hiccup in her voice, she was crying.

 “Who?” TyLee asked. An awful knot welled up in her belly. She knew what she was going to hear before she actually did.

 “Azula.”

 “How do you know!?”

 “Teo and I found her.” She replied quietly. “I…she talked to me before…”

 “She talked to me too.” TyLee replied quietly. Now she had another regret. Another thing she wished that she had done. She should have left her car in the lot and drove home with Azula. “I was going to drive home with her today…” It was hard to speak with tears flowing so freely. “Is she really gone?”

 Katara hugged her. “I’m not sure. It sounded like it, but I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

 “I was going to drive home with her, Katara. We were going to go to my house and I was going to show her my new hamster and we were going to catch up…” Azula didn’t know that, but that’s what they would have done. She wanted to surprise her. She even had a little make-up gift. “We were going to be friends again…”

 .oOo.

 TyLee hugged her pillow close. She was thankful to have Katara. The woman and her mother were so comforting and friendly, and she was lucky that they were so willing to drop her off at home. But her heart ached for Azula. She hugged her pillow even closer. Azula, who she still didn’t have news of. It seemed that Katara had none either and she didn’t know Teo’s number. She’d only ever met him in passing. Despite it all, she texted Azula, trying not to think that she might be texting a dead girl. She thought that it was her turn to ask, ‘why didn’t you tell me?’ Instead she typed, ‘I wanted to surprise you today, because you looked so upset yesterday.’ She didn’t know where she was going with that so she went to backspace it. Instead her trembling fingers hit send. Adds a simple, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t a good friend.’

 She curled up on her bed and falls to another round of sobs. It was too much, Katara was right. Too much was happening at once.

 She woke to the sound of her phone buzzing.

She looked wearily at the screen and the queasiness in her stomach cleared.

 ‘Can you move your surprise to the hospital?’ The dots appeared again.

‘You weren’t a bad friend…’

[cross-roads-blues]

Deep Inside Your Mind /ch.4

[chapter 1]  [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [ [chapter 5]

Notes: Your author is not dead. However, now that my break has ended, updating this story on a daily basis has gotten a bit harder for me, so the updates may be every 2 or 3 days. Also, need to establish some timelines.

1) Takes place before Mary gets brought back

2) Angels still have wings

3) Dean doesn't have the Mark of Cain

4) Crowley and TFW have a complicated relationship but none of them is actively trying to kill another.

Warnings: None, really. 

Summary:  While on a usual hunt, Dean Winchester is hit by something. While Dean recovers, he can’t remember neither Castiel, who’s been harboring feelings for Dean for over 5 years, nor Sam Winchester, his brother, who is 💔 by such turn of events. Can Cas and Sam reverse the damage, while battling their inner demons?

Chapter: 4/?

Word Count: 6520/?

Chapter Title: Way Down We Go

Jamie exited the hospital room and shut the door behind her. Or rather, the demon that was possessing the nurse made her exit the room and shut the door behind her. Word travels fast and talk about the comatose Winchester brother spread like fire in the middle of June. But now the demon didn’t need the meatsuit of the nurse. Everything he needed to know was already revealed: Dean Winchester was indeed amnesiac and he didn’t remember a damn thing about his past.

The demon in nurse meatsuit made his way to the storage room. The nurse locked the door and turned around on her heels approaching the corner of the room where in the dark, a man, seemingly unconscious, was sitting, leaning on the wall. The demon smoked out of the nurse and in the form of red smoke traveled to the man, possessing him. The man opened his eyes, stood up, dusted his pants and sighed with relief, looking at his hands. Being back in his meatsuit made Crowley very happy. After all, it was a rather handsome meatsuit. Crowley didn’t like to leave his meatsuit, but he had to take the nurse for 15 minutes to check on Dean. Anyway, he was on the new objective now.  “Huh,” smirked Crowley  and in the second, there was no one in the storage room of Dallas Municipal Hospital.

“Raised? By an angel? Why would an angel want to raise this scum?” Sam turned around and rubbed his temples.

Castiel squinted and again glanced at the top of the trees, slightly glistening from the start of sunrise. “I don't know. I could be able to trace the angel, though.”

“Great! Let's start with that! C'mon, do your mojo.” !” said Sam, with way too much tension in his voice.

Castiel pressed his lips and walked away from the grave. “I can’t just do it right here right now,” he said finally, making pauses between words. “I need to lay hands on something that the angel has touched.”

Sam aggressively ran his hand through his hair. “The ghost witch probably. If the angel yanked it out of Purgatory, or wherever this thing was, like you yanked Dean out of Hell, there should be a mark. ”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, there must be a mark.”

“Okay, zap us back to Dallas, we need a plan,” said Sam with a frown on his face, “Why can’t life just be easy?”

“You’re a Winchester and I’m an angel, I’m guessing that’s the thing,” murmured Cas, as he transported both of them back to the motel.

“Ugh, your teleport mojo always messes me over.” Sam stumbled over to the refrigerator, bumping into the kitchen’s doorway and grabbed another can of coffee. “I feel like shit now.”

“Maybe it’s because of your poor sleeping schedule,” commented Castiel, as he grabbed a book titled “Native American Legends” and collapsed in the chair, flipping through it.

“Definitely not.” Sam threw the can in the garbage bin, this time missing the bin and letting the can skittle in the corner.

“Right,” mouthed Castiel. “What’s the plan?” he said aloud, glancing up at the younger Winchester.

Sam shrugged. “We need to figure out how to track this thing. Get you to it for a long enough time and then have a nice talk with our feathery friend.” He dropped into a chair, letting his hair fall over his face. “I combed through all lore on ghost witches at least twice and I got no idea how to do that,” he added in muffled voice.

“Cheer up, Moose.” A way too familiar voice was heard from the doorway. Both Castiel and Sam jumped from their seats and bared their weapons: Castiel pointed an angel blade while Sam reached out for Ruby’s knife.

“I come in peace.” Crowley raised his eyebrows and displayed his empty hands. “Offended that you’d even think anything else of me.”

“Why’re you here, Crowley?” spat out Sam, still pointing the knife at the demon.

“To cuddle and watch Mean Girls,” smirked Crowley, “A little birdie brought on its tail that Squirrel forgot my pretty face. Now that’s a problem I’m interested in.”

Crowley strolled to the armchair and casually sat in it. “Ah yes, I know all about your little amnesia problem. About Skudakumooches, too. Wanted to help,” he continued in his gruff voice.

“Why?” Castiel slightly relaxed his stance, weapon still tight in his hand.

Crowley gave him a tight smile. “Because we’re besties. And because your ghost witches  are going after my crossroads demons.”

“Okay, what?” Sam put the knife away and set on the bed.

“Heard me right. Etchemin spells. Killing my best salesmen. Guessing that’s the work of your best buds.” Crowley leaned back in the armchair and crossed his hands.

“Okay and how are you gonna be useful, Crowley?” Sam rested his elbows on his knees and glared at the King of Hell.

“I got a friend who got a friend who got a friend who used to be a shaman before they went to Hell and I got a summoning ritual on my hands.”  Crowley did jazz hands. “Tada.”

Sam raised his eyebrow. “Okay, Crowley, why do you think we want to summon this thing?”

Crowley stared back at him, feigning surprise. “Why, to kill it of course. This thing is murdering my demons, it turned your brother Jason Bourne, I assumed you want it dead.”

Castiel and Sam exchanged glances. “What do you want in return?” finally spoke Sam.

“I want it dead. Seriously, did you listen to the word I said?” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “I said that it kills my guys and my little establishment known as Hell-” he accentuated that word - “is losing clientele! So I am more than willing to cooperate.”

Castiel looked at Sam, furrowing his brows and pushing his lips tightly together. Sam didn’t say anything, just nodded. Castiel hesitated for a second, then turned back to Crowley. “Deal. Give us the ritual.”

Crowley gave him an enigmatic tight-lipped smile. “Attaboy. Kill it real hard for me, will you?” He handed Castiel a folded piece of paper. Before taking it, Castiel gave Crowley a glare and practically yanked the paper out of his hand.

“We’re not killing it for you, Crowley,” said the angel in a haunting deep voice.

Crowley grinned. “Wouldn’t think so. Still you get the job done and that’s all I care about. I’d hate to lose any more of my salesmen.  I have a reputation to maintain here.” With these words, Crowley teleported, leaving Castiel and Sam staring at an empty armchair.

“Okay, now Crowley is involved and he knows about Dean’s situation. This just got more complicated,” said Sam, stowing away the knife and sighing.

Castiel tilted his hand and squinted. “If Crowley knew, it means that the word about Dean got out. This can’t be good.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll talk to the doctor about getting him here tomorrow. We should head to the bunker, do the summon, trace the angel, force him to force the ghost witches to give Dean’s memory back and then kill them all.” Sam exhaled and leaned back, lying on the bed completely. “Man, I swear,  sometimes it’s like the Universe is against us.”

Castiel looked at Sam. “You are going to get some sleep, while I-” he skimmed through the paper Crowley gave them “-am going to collect the ingredients for the ritual that we don’t have in the bunker.”

Sam got himself up from the bed, blinking rapidly and squinting. “No, Cas, wait, I can help with the-” he stuttered, looking for the word- “the, the…. the search of the ingredients.”

“No.” Castiel determinedly got up and walked up to the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, I’m not done, I’m not done!” Sam started to get up from the bed, but the exhaustion and many sleepless nights started setting in. “Okay, I’m done,” he admitted, collapsing again on the bed, “I’m done.”

Castiel cast one last glance at the younger Winchester, turned off the lights and headed out of the door. He shut the door behind him and felt light morning breeze on his face, as the sun continued rising. The angel pressed his lips together and tilted his head up, letting weak sunlight fall on his face. For the first time in weeks, they had a lead. They had a real shot at saving Dean. Castiel glanced down as he thought about the angel that had risen the Skudakumooches and ordered them to do that to Dean. He imagined jamming an angel blade in his throat and that thought felt really therapeutic. With a flap of the wings Castiel wasn’t anymore on the porch of the motel room.

The sunlight lit up Dean’s hospital room, as the light wind from the open window played with the curtains. The angel stood in the middle of the room, not sure why did he come there. Dean was sleeping and Cas rejoiced at seeing the hunter so calm and at peace. He slowly approached the bed, being careful not to make any sound. Dean not remembering him hurt like hell, hurt in the ways he couldn’t imagine. The pain of his human not remembering him, while the angel’s most cherished memories were with Dean stung and Cas couldn’t get rid of it. The angel spent a couple of minutes looking at Dean’s face and, as he wanted to leave, the hunter’s green eyes slowly opened.

“What, what time is it?” sleepily murmured the hunter, blinking slowly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I was just checking up on you…” rambled Castiel, moving away from the bed, embarrassed.

“Wait!” called out hunter.

“What is it?” The angel hesitated and lingered for a couple of moments by the bed.

“Your eyes… they’re blue,” muttered Dean, weakly raising his hand and pointing towards Cas’ face.

Castiel tilted his head and furrowed his brows. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

Dean, still half asleep and a bit dizzy from the meds, hesitated for a second, but then continued. “I had a memory… lots of pain and everything red and black… and then I saw a flash of white-” Dean stopped and stared directly in Cas’ eyes- “and in that flash, I think I saw your eyes. But that doesn’t make any sense. So, Castiel, tell me who the hell I am, who the hell you are and what did I see?”

Castiel gave him a tight-lipped smile and contemplated his answer for a second. "No more secrets," he thought.

“I am an angel of the Lord.”

[chapter 1]  [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 5]

[elizabethrobertajones]

13x21 watching notes

Not. Enough. Hugs.

Expectations: Bobo is gonna write his last episode which will make every other writer heading to the door trying to churn out some swan song fare thee well nonsense taste like ash.

I will probably cry because this mofo makes me cry all the time and I hate it because I never cry at Supernatural and the last couple of years Bobo has me leaking everywhere

-

Recap!

Lucifer saying they'll find Jack and remake the world in his image. Gross. No thanks.

Sam and Rowena bonding over seeing Lucifer's true face and it being awful

Gabriel complaining they took all his grace

Michael, Mary and Jack's adventures

Gabriel and Rowena being the most powerful allies. What a world. Like 10 episodes ago it wasn't even like this at all :P

A last glimpse of Sam's stupid parting shot about them dying together. Whee. Sarcasm font.

-

Um.

Okay so this is either a dream or the future (yes.) or my next fic, and I'm only 1 second in, but all I know is that Jack, dressed all in white because he's Jesus, is watching Dean eat his 7th bit of pizza with pure horror, while Cas lovingly, smilingly, chides him for it.

Oh yeah there's Mary, laughing in the background. And she's wearing a different but still white and blue (Mother Mary) plaid.

This dialogue is literally bunker fluff banter about Jack counting Dean eating his pizza slices and Dean calling him a narc for saying so.

"John and me, we used to call him our little piglet" I am so happy. Pre-tragedy Winchester family fluff. My heart.

Sam offering to help Mary do the dishes

Dean getting Cas to punt him another pizza once Mom is no longer watching. Dear lord. The silent "gimme pizza" moment of our dreams.

Sam checking in on Mary!! How are you since... Being over there

Sam's wearing the same shirt from the end of 12x22

"I always knew you and Dean would come and save us. And you did."

-

Yep that was Sam's dream, which of all the available options was the absolute worst because he's the one who wasn't talking at the table, but has been missing a family the most, missing out on Mary, missing out on having Cas and Jack around, having Dean being normal. Wanting the relationship with Mary, and all the fun nuggets like "my little piglet" which makes her tease Dean and make Sam laugh... Oh god my heart. I'm a minute in and I can't take it.

-

And Mary starting to act like an alarm clock, Sam Sam Sam Sam, to wake him up. Oh no. Oh noooo it's awful. The alarm clock corrupted her in the dream: his image of her is so dependant on what's around him, so easy for her to be snatched away, when he thinks he's having a good moment with her at long freaking last

-

Last season I staked my entire house on the Sam and Mary dynamic being key and it felt like very few others cared, certainly not in the wider fandom, and along with that there was a whole lot of not understanding either of them. I'm so glad that Sam and Mary's dynamic has been more centrally placed this season and signposted because I'm so fed up that I spent all that energy on it last season and ended up feeling like I was shouting into a void :P

-

"He needed to extract his grace *finger quotes* in private" *Sam looks up like uuuuuh* "So I left him alone in Dean's room" *Dean looks up like EXCUSE ME DEAR DID YOU JUST SAY -

"What? No!"

Sam smirks, Dean looks pleadingly at Cas.

I was just joking in 13x20 about how Dean n Gabriel have a weird vibe about them, but I think at this point Dean is just thinking you left the skankiest archangel alone in my room???

I don't think there's a subtextual whatnow between them about this, he just doesn't want to know what angel grace looks like under a blacklight

-

Awww Rowena is wearing orange... With a turtleneck.....

#Samwitch forever #Jinkies!

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making jokes about Gabriel's essence last episode and now the left him alone in the room to do it, and showing off Zerbe's merch and they're all just peering at that lil dot of glowiness... Gabriel is getting a lot of impotency jokes here.

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"That is the jet fuel of divine emissions!"

*Dean pulls another face re: emissions*

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Jesus CHRIST the rift is literally SAGGING FLACCIDLY

Bobo I hate you

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of the 5 of them, Rowena's face remains, as ever, a total gem.

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holy shit and then Gabriel lowers his blade as well

who DIRECTED THIS SHIT?

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They all sigh and Gabriel lets his blade flop entirely to his side

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Rowena looks completely unimpressed.

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"Well that was fast" "One could say premature." "I thought it would be enough!"

Jesus christ what is happening in the latter part of the episode that we're getting this scene now?

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Oh my god that was just the COLD OPEN

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As always though, Cas being the one who has to say the really horrible thing, like, they will all just wait for him to proclaim the bad news. Maybe he just likes people to say things out loud even when they're obvious *clears throat* but also he always has that streak where he will suggest the awful plan and be first to realise some horrible path that they must take.

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TFW retires to the kitchen to talk. Sam sits on the steps, now the exile, while Cas leans on the family dinner table. It's the place he goes in his head which has the best service. The connection to his family. Dean leans as well, Cas and Dean mirroring each other, providing more of a united front, as the two of them have the emotional headspace to root for this plan, however Sam feels, while Sam is caught by his trauma, isolated, hunched up and small on the floor, less of their party.

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Every time it ends the same way - with the Devil on the loose again.

Hey at least this time he's already on the loose so even the worst case is that nothing changes :P

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Well no the worst case is that he somehow possesses Rowena and takes the most powerful witch ever for a joyride.

Actually no he's locked in his vessel

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the worst case scenario is they kill him before they get the grace, so they have to wait for Gabriel to charge up and *oh no* Lucifer is dead

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God, Cas saying "the worst possible violation" re: being possessed by Lucifer is so ridiculously validating. He understands what Sam went through and he's showing he understands, feels the same way. The two of them have this connection of knowing what it's like, and Sam hears from Rowena that she knows what it's like to be tortured by him, hears from Cas what it's like to be possessed by him... His support group is here

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I still love the camera angle of Cas standing in front of Dean and Dean behind him and the camera is flattening them together.

After the directing on the soggy rift, and Mittens telling me Phil is responsible I'm just like... no surprises here mate.

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Plus. Cas had a shoulder!Dean there

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Gabriel yoinks a book out of the shelf. It's Laying Pipe. A beginner's guide to plumbing and pipe fitting.

The cover is suitably phallic.

Gabriel is standing by the katana - the pointy one that the BMoL kept sharp. Ya know, sword sharpening.

Something he was having issues with just now despite all his sharp wooden swords last week.

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Penis.

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"It's not always like that!!""Gabriel, please."

She was waiting for him to break that tension.

*manly virile page turning*

*more angry defences*/"I don't need to hear excuses!"

... Rowena being left alone in the library to tease their other guests is the best part of the show and they should start a regular segment which is talkshow style of Rowena plus whatever poor sucker of the week is hanging out in the bunker

"It doesn't make me any less of an archangel!" "mright."

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Oh now you're blaming Rowena for your perfomance, huh, buddy?

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Rowena saying a drunk six year old could operate the spell is probably not commentary on the fact that Dean is the last person to do it, huh?

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Rowena saying "the three amigos with their bro hugs, pep talks and melodrama" changes the fundamental dynamic - the stereotype of their nonsense is the three of them hugging it out, instead of in 10x05, the last time they were meta textually mocked for it, Sam n Dean getting the BM scenes, and Cas and Dean's in-show dynamic not being explictly referenced except for the fact that Dean clearly thought the personal space jokes were being taken too far before he had the explanation. This makes it clear the BM moments are about TFW, uses the fact that the 3 of them are all together right now to put them all in one room and have them talking out the latest issue together away from the others, in order to establish that Cas is firmly a part of what was once the bro dynamic.

Of course he's had moments where he hangs with them in what otherwise would be the BM scene of the episode right the way through, but THIS is a metatextual statement about the dynamic, one that is more than just Rowena's snark, but writer commentary on another level, pulling on our pre-existing understanding of the show mocking the BM moments to make it expressly clear that Cas is involved too.

If Bobo is on the way out to nurture the Wayward Sisters, then this is one of those closing statements on his way. That he wants us to understad that Cas is intrinsically a part of this dynamic, and that the FUNDAMENTAL CORE of the show, the BM Scene, is a TFW inclusive incident no matter whether all 3 of them are involved in it or not, it is a thing they do TOGETHER and is NOT a justthebros meta joke. The BM thing is not just the concept of Sam and Dean looking weepy at each other over the car. It's their FAMILY, together, just as Bobo shows Sam dreaming of their FAMILY being TFW, mom and Cas's weird son who counts how much pizza you eat.

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Jesus christ I was going to make a joke that Rowena and Gabriel would probably bang as my next point to break the mood of that rant but I hit play and she's checking out his tush and inner monologuing it.

Never mind.

they gonna bang

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"She's so tiny. and angry."

I stan 1 heterosexual couple.

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Ahahahaha he noticed her dancer's body and wondered how flexible she is. Oh dear. I'm gonna back off because I may or may not have written this exact thing in my notes in her last episode

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They're adorable.

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"So, we've a little time."

Oh dean's room is not going to get out of this unscathed

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She raises up the wooden pestle.

"to fill what?"

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*red flashing sign which says 'PENIS' is glaring uncontrollably in the corner of the screen*

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Listen, because these two are the skankiest archangel and rowena, who is, well, rowena, we are getting to enjoy subtext for the sake of immediate pay off that they're openly attracted to each other and we're literally getting their checking each other out and staring into each other's eyes montage.

Sure does help with the show doing this more subtly in other places.

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SHE'S

i

Phil -

BOBO

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yeah and abruptly to give them some privacy, back to TFW who are gonna come to whatever conclusion, go looking for Gabriel and Rowena, and end up knocking on Dean's door, open it, there they are in a heap in his bed.

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Bobo "invented the fan fiction gap" Berens writing like it's going out of style

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Oh no Sam's sitting next to the coffee maker that was briefly haunted by Kevin, in a Bobo episode.

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"I don't like it, but it's our only choice. Our fun, great choice."

Bobo I forgot how much I love your Sam. Your Sam makes me laugh and cry. And here is sarcastic Sam, briefly returning from hiatus, and of course you are writing my favourite and the best version of Sam.

He gets to call out how they make these choices all the time where they have to go do horrible things, even against their own trauma. When he'd rather be anywhere else.

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Dean points out they only have 24 hours as a complaint, but Sam has a "wait a second" which maaay or may not be resolving that. But first, they go find their archangel and witch -

Dean looks a little perturbed

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Awwww they were only making out among the books, not defiling Dean's room.

Shame.

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Cas's head immediately tilts.

Fan fic aside, this is the most action the Bunker has EVER seen.

Unless Sam and Eileen hooked up in 12x17, that is.

The most confirmed action. No one has ever brought a date back here.

Dean still has not hooked up with Cas. That we know of.

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"Reading books... here in the library... Which is the room we are in now." Well okay sure

Sam is utterly horrified. Take your shipping pick on which one or both of them he's most affronted by.

Gabriel is 100% that guy you can NOT introduce to your attractive friends.

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What is Cas even doing

he's like... I can't even look at you, Gabriel

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Oh, bartender in the shirt Gabriel will be in very shortly. *pretends not to be surprised*

I guess we're not hearing the plan yet :P

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The bartender sounds awfully concerned about how much Lucifer is drinking - if it's Gabriel, he's needling him about how much he's drinking, maybe just to hear how he justifies it.

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"I had Heaven... Hell... in the palm of my hand. You know what I learned?" Me, internally: "Nothing."

Lucifer grumbling about how they don't matter, though. They don't matter to HIM, but they matter for the world running smoothly. The natural order, the cogs whirring as they should, would all do so much better without you around. Wherever you go, you don't fit in and you suck.

- He moves on to grumbling about Jack and how he can't find him, how it doesn't matter because "his bitch of a mother poisoned him against me, probably forever" - humanity is a poison to him. Love and compassion literally toxic.

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"I'm sure things will work out in the end. Jack will come around!"

I know Gabriel is just trying to troll Lucifer, but it does read as ominous, because all season the low key threat has been there that Jack might end up going at least a little darkside. More darkside than being reckless and accidentally hurting people. Going over a darkside where he doesn't immediately feel dreadful about the people who get hurt around him.

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Hahaha he's so drunk. Rowena can magically roofie him. Wonderful.

And of course at the reveal, Gabriel has Kingdom Beer signs on top of him. The sign of the Kingdom of Heaven.

(I continue kinda wondering/hoping about the prodigal son return for Gabriel)

The thing is, how did they know Lucifer would be here or receptive to being roofied? Honestly, if this episode keeps up the quality, I won't question it beyond this note :P

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Oh I love this confrontation.

"Surprise"

He runs out of a bright white door and right through the other side.  This feels a LOT like Chuck's bar in 11x20, which calls back to Robbie's fare thee well episode, and reminds us that Gabriel really is the most like his father of all his sons, but also is the trap in the fairy tent with Charlie in 8x11.

There's a stag on the door, and that's more virile imagery.

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If Gabriel is low on grace, I'd imagine this is Rowena's work, for the most part, and Gabriel just has to be intimidating enough to make this work.

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Oh look here's someone else "back from the dead" ... It's not Lucifer's day

and even if she's not on the fullest full power, she's ready to meet Lucifer, because Sam's the one who kills her.

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He must think he's hallucinating some people he killed, until it all get too real.

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"Put me out of my misery! Go ahead!"

this is what I like to hear.

Sadly, I doubt they will. But it's still music to my ears.

Lucifer reaching the nadir of this arc, wherever it's supposed to go... I hope to his death, and it would be nice if he did die at the end of the season and the show was brave enough to move on to a world without Lucifer. With the apparent draw of Mark P to some parts of the audience I'm scared they won't, but at the very least it's seeming somewhat plausible right now, as he's brought down again and again and shown to have no moral fibre, no redeeming qualities, no drive to do better. Through and through, vile and useless, the story tells us, agreeing with how he comes across, how Mark P as Lucifer makes us feel in a way that the energy of Casifer did not convey at all because that all seemed to be at least for a purpose and Casifer was fun, and it didn't seem to be implying Lucifer trailing on and on and unendingly on as it ended up being >.>

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take 2 of the spell! Lucifer trussed up in the Bunker library, Dean perching on a table. Get your muddy boots off that chair.

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I love watching him kneeling there leaking grace. I'm petty like that... I feel like everyone in the room is too. It has a feeling like when they stole Metatron's grace, but instead no one cares to heal him and they're not even really aiming to make him human, they're just kinda. Ew. Lucifer. Who cares.

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Rowena's trousers are INCREDIBLE.

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I swear they used "stuck pig" in the last couple of episodes, or I'm imagining that?

Anyway Sam's plan is the least they could do to Lucifer

hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

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This is what happens when you suck: eventually a bunch of guys (gender neutral term) pin you down, leave you frozen in place dripping grace in a gross way, and all laugh at you before they leave

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"When we get back, then we'll kill you."

Nice plan. Sadly, nice as it is, it gives Lucifer wiggle room to not be here or not be dead >.>

Rowena staying behind with him is unconcerning when Sam goes through the rift in the sense of character death (and she's a lot more confident around Lucifer all of a sudden :P) but I still don't want anything too bad to happen to her :( Still, it seems like a half-assurance that she will be okay.

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"Save your mum," Rowena says.

The main problem, of course, being that Lucifer knows Mary is there, doesn't know Jack is there, but while they played it very cool, it's worryingly likely he's starting to guess that Jack is in there, whether he can sense him through the rift or he just has a feeling that this might be it...

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Ahahahaha it's on a hill

Sam and Cas roll down it, Gabriel kinda cartwheels, and Dean comes out running and does a cool skid down the hill.

Oh gross, Gabriel ended up face first in Cas's crotch :P Dean is like FIRST YOU DEFILE ROWENA AND NOW CAS? HOW DARE -

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IS THIS ENTIRE EPISODE ABOUT PENISES?

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Dean is just... wow

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You guys, sometimes it's easy to meta an episode and sometimes it is very very hard and sometimes you don't even wanna type the words very very hard

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"Kentucky. North East Kentucky" are we here entirely because of Asmodeus or is this to put us kinda halfway between Michael and Jack's last known location? Not that they know Michael's current location.

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Rowena has no time for concern trolling about being "left behind in the kitchen" when she knows the only reason Lucifer would care is because he wants out.

She also reminds him he's being emasculated, because yes, this episode is all about penises.

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Lucifer switches to being annoying, singing the same song as the password to Billie's pad in 11x10 - the episode where he first killed Rowena.

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Gabriel walking along holding his blade at a 90 dergee angle to his body

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Cas drops by to casually check how Gabriel is feeling about running Heaven maybe perhaps pretty please?

Gabriel points out all the things which could kill them first before they ever need to worry about that

Oh gosh he did have sex with Rowena. At some point. Maybe not right then in the library unless he magically dressed her again. But some point between then and now. Pfft.

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Poor Dean's room I guess.

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Cas is remarkably good at steering this conversation, when he has a point to get to. He has learned a considerable amount of tact before getting to "Heaven's dying, Gabriel," because for one thing he hasn't hauled him aside and said all this sooner. I'm always pleased when Cas's people skills are apparent.

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"They wouldn't want me back, Castiel. As far as they're concerned, I'm a screw up. Hell, as far as *I'm* concerned I'm a screw up."

Oh, no. Please don't make me like you any more than I already do. This is the opposite conversation to 9x18 in the car with meta!Gabriel, Cas having to bring up the subject of Gabriel leading Heaven. It has to be him because they need an archangel, so there's no double bluff to pull where Cas could do it instead. There were 9x18 vibes all over last episode right down to Dean having a soft moment over the phone from a motel with Cas while they worked 2 ends of a case, and now we have this. 9x18 is steering a little bit from the background.

I LIKE the idea of Gabriel as the leader of a mostly stable but much more chill Heaven. And this seems tentatively positive, that it's maaaaybe just a self-esteem/compatibility thing. This is what is immediately being offered as the first obstacle to mind. Gabriel left, because of his brothers, but they're all dead or bound in the main world. They daren't haul Michael out of the pit, even just to imprison him in Heaven to keep the lights on, apparently, which just leaves him. And his major reasons for leaving are all gone now. No more archangels. Just him.

Which means that I was right after Naomi asked Cas to see about getting him back, that this comes down to how Gabriel feels, that after all this isolation, it's about does he feel he can return home, and how will home feel about him returning.

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"Well, heaven's been run into the ground by upstanding angels. Perhaps a screw up is what we need."

ILY babe

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*Cas looks hopefully at Gabriel*

*Conversation ends with a long shot of their walk in the woods*

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Well that was a veeeery interesting note to leave that. As I was saying a few hours ago about 13x20, it may be that Gabriel doesn't need to find something to stand for to die for, but to LIVE for, which is a much more positive thing. I really actually kinda like the way this dovetails with Heaven's problems as a reason to compel him to go back, because Gabriel approaching it like a screw up who doesn't want to break anything sure is better than an egomaniac having a go.

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Sam is feeling bouncier just to be in the same universe as mom and Jack

he wants the pizza party

let him have the fucking pizza party

it was just his birthday!

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He's wearing his dumb backpack he's had season season 1 and it makes me unhappy in a "oh god he was so tiny" way

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He's also being unnervingly optimistic about how close they are to winning, to getting Mary and Jack back, and he's finally got optimism. His mood is basically defined by this to such a horrible degree.

... Which is totally not a parallel to the beginning of the season where Dean was miserable until they got Cas back at which point he was so happy that Sam called him out on it

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*distant screams of campers being menaced by a wendigo in the woods*

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"Not our world, not our problem."

Dude, they're hunters wherever

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Interesting how everyone here knows about the supernatural, so random hikers keeping low off the grid will know what was attacking them. And some basic lore about how vampires were affected by the lower population and starvation

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TBH the comparison to the wendigo in looks isn't too wildly far off; they're both humans who have become completely monstrous in a way where they go off the deep end

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The rebels Jack and Mary set up a colony there ... that could be anyone

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Oh, great, tunnel of terrifying vampires. This is a distraction/time waste that will probably eat up the rest of the episode for them and cause nothing but pain >.>

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Oh, we're only halfway through...

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Gah how are we only halfway through??

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Oh no, Rowena. Being left alone with Lucifer being annoying is one thing. Being left alone with him talking about how he murdered her is not a thing where she can play up the vindictiveness of the situation... trauma is trauma and just because she has him bound and knows he can't kill her isn't something that makes her entirely immune to facing that :(

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Oh Rowena

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Oh no

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... Although within that Rowena casually calls them "his three fathers" which is hilarious and also particularly awful for Lucifer to  hear because it was bad enough knowing that Jack liked Cas more than him when he didn't know that

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Yeeeep she didn't know that winding him up makes him stronger because anger is where his power comes from because he's so fuckin awful

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Also ew he has something to fight for.

At least until Jack smushes him like a bug /wishful thinking

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Oh for - he didn't even jump into the portal, she threw him off of her and he went in it by accident.

I mean, just for accountability stakes, adding it all up, could that have been any more her fault? Bleh :P

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I assume the portal will still stay open a lil while, but

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Oh, she's packing the Black Grimoire.

Good.

Now, is she actually going into the rift to save them, while putting on her fancy coat and scarf and all?

Or is she leaving?

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"Not my problem!"

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Those guys are your friends.

"BOLLOCKS!"

How DARE I have feelings. FEELINGS.

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I guess Gabriel is also on the other side of the rift.

They're soulmates :P

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Omg it's not the old mine from 1x02 and 11x19

I'm actually disappointed

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Heheh everyone has glowsticks

party!Cas

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THIS PLACE IS SCARY AND I DON'T LIKE IT

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WHERE IS THE RAVE?

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Wonder how much speculation we'll get about Dean looking up at that one bright light and being in a spotlight under it... Like, Michael-wise.

It is interesting to single him out with the spotlight.

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*Cas and Gabriel just casually moving rocks*

Look, Cas could blast those all away but they're trying to play it cool for the campers

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Who may or may not get picked off by vampires

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No, Sam is wandering

he will be picked off by vampires

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Bobo you need to stop killing Sam

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I mean theoretically you just murdered Sam and are ditching the show to go write Wayward like hah hahahaha no consequences here I am the showrunner, now I will make Claire and Kaia kiss

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Think of how Jody will feel, my guy

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...

Okay that's enough of the "Sam is permanently dead lol" joking.

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"Saaaam!" Cas yells and disappears down the tunnel

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Cas comes back Sam-less and makes Dean leave too. I'm gonna be ship neutral on account of how Sam just got eaten by vampires. But it was intense and sad.

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Yet, somehow, less sad than that time Cas died in front of Dean, when it comes to OTT melodrama. I mean there was a lot of shouting, but Dean's still moving.

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Dean looks great

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Hey, I guess 11x17 was good practice for this.

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Cas ought to be walking with him holding his hand. It's criminal to make him do this alone

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Wow, Sam you look terrible.

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Guys, are you really going to destroy the angel warding on the camp? That's SUPER DANGEROUS

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MARY

HUGS

YAY

(Why are you not hugging Cas?)

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So yeah, you gotta tell mom that Sam's dead now

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Just to get you

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You can have one (1) family member at a time

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Aw no don't cry!!!

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Look, your brother was just taking a snooze because the rave got too real! He and his glowstick are fine!

...

Somehow

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Is he a vampire?

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Mittens tells me he's not a vampire, which just makes this all the more confusing

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Aw

shit

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Sam's like, can we go back to when I was dead?

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Okay now he's heard Lucifer's story he's like can I REALLY go back to being dead?

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This is like when someone wakes you up in the morning and you just don't wanna get out of bed. In that moment, no matter how much you love that person, they are to you metaphorically what Lucifer is to Sam right now.

Fitting, that it started with him vs his alarm clock as a loved one

Now we see the even darker side to mornings

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Look, I'm kinda... horrified here so I'm just...

Can you kill this fucker and get back to your family already?

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HONESTLY if I was Sam I'd take my chance with the wall of angry vampires rather than stick around for this conversation

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"You need me"

... no shade on that concept though or anything, when it's a wall of angry vampires vs pretending to like Lucifer so he can hang out with Jack

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I mean seriously I love Sam to bits but I'd be genuinely happy to see him torn apart by vampires again just to spite Lucifer.

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Oh JACK no sweetie

We didn't even see them getting to hug each other, it's just straight to Gabriel sitting quietly, Jack pacing miserably, demanding why they didn't bring Sam back

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Oh, he's fine

all that stress for nothing

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"Please don't judge this friend I made at the rave, it was a really really bad night."

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Do you ever find yourself staring into space thinking, "I would genuinely have been happier if the last shot of the episode was Sam being torn apart by vampires for the second time in 15 minutes?"

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This is gonna go over swimmingly in a Buckleming episode for all the character dynamics. They are the only writers left who seem to actually like Lucifer.

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Why does everything build up to stuff that needs to be handled by not-Buckleming right before a Buckleming episode anyway?

[badonk-writing-vault]

TFW Your Friend Works for a Gang

He’d been gone for too long. 

Drake could think of nothing else as he paced the length of the shoebox apartment. Malek had told him to stay put in case any more customers came by while he was out, that he would be back soon. That had been two hours ago.

He should’ve gone with him. Malek hadn’t told him where he’d been off to, but when he moved with that kind of urgency it usually meant nothing good. It usually meant drug deals in the dark. And guns, it most definitely meant guns were going to be involved somehow. The thought only made the churning in his gut worsen. That was a pretty Malek-centric feeling too-- the nausea that swirled his insides like a kid with water paints. 

Something was wrong, and he wasn’t there to fix it.

It was a helpless feeling. Malek had too many close calls lately. Drake hadn’t realized paying off debts could wrack up so much hostility and he regretted not going with him. The sick feeling was welcome though, if only because it broke him out of his daze long enough to check the clock.

He’d killed another twenty minutes just pacing.

With a sigh he checked out the window for the tenth time. It was dark out now and the rain hadn’t let up any. Drake contemplated heading out to search for his friend but decided against it when he realized if he was gone when Malek came back the man might just have a heart attack. No, it was best if he stayed put. Drake went back to biting the inside of his mouth and stopped pacing in order to stare at the door, willing it to open and reveal the blond to him.

At some point he dozed off, only to be roused by scraping at the front door. It wasn’t the usual sound of keys in the lock, and it certainly wasn’t a knock. It sounded something akin to a dog scraping to be let out. If dog scraping could sound like fingernails on a metal doorframe, anyway.

Drake crossed the small space and threw the door open. When Malek stumbled through the entryway, he bent down on instinct and caught him before he could hit the floor.   

               “Mal!” 

A groan was the only response he received and Drake felt his pulse quicken. He slammed the door shut and locked before helping Malek onto the moth-eaten sofa. Once he was settled Drake turned on the tableside lamp to assess the damages. Malek was only ever so quiet when something had gone wrong, he’d been hurt, or both. 

Sure enough, once Malek was thrown under the scrutiny of artificial light, Drake pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath to steady himself. This wasn’t the first time Malek had turned up with a bloodied face and black eye and he doubted it would be the last, but that didn’t stop the fury from building inside his chest at the sight of it. Especially since this beat down had been especially bad. He could see it in the way Malek held his arm delicately against his chest, in the way he curled around stomach. Blood mixed with water on his soaked head and where it hadn’t been splattered from nose bleeds and choked coughs, it seeped into his shirt from a cut on his arm. 

How long had he lain in the mud, crying and bleeding and alone?

His anger reached a boiling point and Drake pushed it down. He didn’t want to scare Malek. No, right now Malek was most important and he needed to be patched up. It was a simple feat to gather what was needed to do so, a practiced ritual amongst the two of them, and within a minute he was back at the male’s side, crouching down to get to work. 

Malek shivered and whimpered and winced as he wiped the blood and gunk off, and eventually he sat up to help in applying alcohol and antiseptic to the areas that seemed particularly nasty and prone to infection. They did it all in silence. Drake decided he could give him time to formulate a good explanation for his sorry state while he focused on simmering down so he didn’t go out later and do something stupid.

It wasn’t until he got up to grab Malek some clothes that weren’t covered in blood, dirt, and rainwater that he finally decided to prod. He could see Malek’s grimace without even looking over when he asked what happened.

               “Nothin’ much,” the blond replied tightly. 

Drake sighed loudly and made his way back to sit beside Malek and help him get his shirt and pants off. He wasn’t about to not help him just because he was choosing to be difficult, but there was enough frustration on his part that he also wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

               “Try again.’”

Malek hissed as he wriggled out of his jeans and Drake waited patiently for him to realize that he had the upper hand now-- if he thought Drake was going to give him his new clothes before getting an answer, he was mistaken.

               “C’mon, man, it’s been a day.”

               “What kind of day?”

               “Drake, seriously, can I have my clothes now?”

Drake pulled back when Malek made to grab for the garments, and he held them tighter to his chest while shaking his head resolutely. 

               “Who did you see and why didn’t you tell me?”

The silence stretched until Malek’s glare became a defeated sigh; he dropped his eyes to his lap where gooseflesh had started to appear. 

               “S’just the Russos.”

The name vaguely rang a bell in his mind. 

               “Didn’t you owe them money?”

               “Yeah, but this was supposed to be a drug meet.” Malek confirmed with a weary nod. “Of course they decided they had to have the money too.”

But they didn’t have that kind of money. Drake could see what happened now, even if Malek didn’t finish. How he’d shown up to the meet, thinking it would be a simple crystal deal, only to be ambushed. Drake could picture the group around Malek, demanding money he didn’t have and would likely never have, growing closer and closer until they could restrain him.

He decided to have a little mercy then and handed Malek the sweatpants he’d been using as leverage. Malek slid them on with a few pained grunts before glaring at the wall. Drake understood his frustration. Malek had been blindsided, and they’d punished him the way they thought was best. 

               “You could have told me where you were going.”

Malek didn’t respond, though his glare did soften. Drake knew there was no point in offering solutions to problems already passed, but he liked to remind Malek every so often when these things happened that he was, in fact, not alone. There was only so much he could do when Malek wouldn’t let him help.

There was, however, everything he could do to ensure Malek didn’t forget that he had someone who cared for him. Even if all he could do was patch him up at the end of the day, he was still there.

Drake decided to drive home the silent reminder by helping Malek into one of his own shirts-- he knew Malek loved his clothes for some reason or another. Sure enough, as soon as the fabric passed over his head the blond buried his nose into the collar and relaxed a bit further into the sofa. Drake got up to grab the threadbare throw from the floor and when he returned, Malek had dropped his sour expression.

               “I should’ve told you.”

Drake smiled softly and sat back down, positioning himself so that Malek could lay down against his chest. Malek didn’t hesitate to drape himself over his body and snuggle under the blanket. 

               “I’m here for you,” he mumbled quietly against damp hair. 

Malek nodded slowly, lazily, and Drake bet he was falling asleep. He wrapped an arm around his back, careful of his bruises, and gave him a light squeeze. Malek hummed softly in return.

               “I know. Thank you.”

[hellofanimagination]

Hey, Baby I'm Not Your Superhuman (Except That I Am)

Prompt: “i accidentally fell asleep in the bookstore you work in cause i read so much au” More like Peter spends too much time trying to figure out a new formula for web fluid and falls asleep in the bookstore where y/n works

Warnings: Robbery, Mild Violence, Guns

Word Count: 3,250

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: tfw when a tiny fic turns into 7 pages lol

--

Bookstores are quiet and calm, easy going, no one ever yells or fights or steals, it’s a great place to work. Which is why you’re working at Homecoming Books to put yourself through nursing school, it’s easy and pays a good amount-mainly because you work long hours and you’re the only one who will actually show up on weekends. Of course there are the few oddball customers who make you question if all those things about bookstores are true; like that guy who comes in and hits on you while buying those awkward ‘steamy romance’ novels, or that group of kids who come in and move books around and talk too loudly and then leave their empty starbucks cups when they leave. However their are the best customers too, like that girl who comes in and discusses medicine with you late on Saturdays, or that really cute boy who reads almost three books every time he comes in and sits in the back area with the beanbags and leaves at closing. You don’t know why he spends sunday nights in the back of a bookstore when he could be home but you appreciate the company, even if you’ve never spoken more than three words.

It’s Sunday evening and there are a few people milling about-the family of three looking at picture books, the teenagers in the mystery section, and the seniors book club that meets in the reading area by the romance novels. And of course the cute boy, he’s slouched in a green beanbag with his nose in a book about science, he looks like he’s taking notes. You ring up a costumer and then make your way over to where he sits and he is taking notes, scribbling in a little notepad diagrams and equations, it looks like he’s doodling something about webs and spiders but he flips the page before you can get a good look. You make yourself look busy rearranging the section of expensive science textbooks that were donated by Stark Industries last month. You glance over and catch the cute boy looking at you, his eyes get wide and he shoves his face down into his book, you giggle and smile and see his face heat up.

You want to talk to him, ask his name at least, but your throat feels dry just looking at him so you keep your mouth shut. You steal glances though, of his gentle brown waves and his expressive eyes, how quickly he writes out equations, the way he bites at his lip when he messes up or is thinking hard. You want to ask what he’s working on, he looks about your age he could be going to school for a science field, maybe he’s a nerd with a job with someone like Tony Stark, maybe he’s just a guy who works at a coffee shop but loves math and science. Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe...you want to know him. But you can’t pretend to have a reason to hang around him forever so you leave reluctantly and return to the front desk to find a tired looking girl with dark hair asking to buy an old classic book you remember reading in school. You ring her up and send her on her way after a little chit chat that she didn’t seem to care about at all.

You catch sight of the boy sometimes as you help other people and restock shelves, he doesn't move and after awhile you get worried about how still he is. The store closes in an hour when you finally get up the nerve to check up on him and your heart flutters when you find him sleeping soundly. He’s curled up still holding his notes, book fallen to the floor beside him, his face is so soft and beautiful as he breathes evenly. You wonder if he’s dreaming and you almost reach out to brush away his hair when you realize just how fucking weird that would be. You can feel your face heating up at the way he shifts and a sleepy mumble falls from his lips, how he curls a little tighter, trying to get comfortable on the beanbag. You should wake him, people aren’t allowed to sleep in the store after the age of 6, it’s actually part of your training to wake people up quietly, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You smile softly and turn around, leaving him to catch up on his sleep.

People leave slowly as the time ticks to closing until it’s just you ringing up a mom and her 12 year old who’s bouncing up and down and babbling about the comic books she picked out. They’re good ones, Batman and Wonder Woman ones that you remember sharing with your siblings after finding them in your dad’s old stuff.

“Who’s your favorite superhero?” You ask the child and she grins, toothy and wide.

“Wonder Woman!” She gets a little loud but you don’t mind, letting her babble enthusiastically all about Wonder Woman and the Amazonians like she knows everything there is to know, you think maybe she does. When they leave you start restocking books and end up back where the cute boy is still sleeping. You had forgotten that you didn’t wake him, should you wake him now? You have to close and you can’t just lock him in here, he probably needs to get home anyway. There are books-science and math and one DC comic-sitting around him and you pick them up carefully, placing them on your cart to put away later. You kneel down beside him and your heart flutters again, eyes tracing the soft lines of his face and the slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw and how his lashes are dark against his skin. You take a shaky breath and reach out, shaking his shoulder lightly and watching him stir, eyes fluttering open slowly.

He smiles the second he sees you and your heart pounds and you smile too. And then his eyes get wide and he bolts up straight, looking around a little frantically and then his dark eyes land back on you and he seems to relax. You reach out and touch his arm without think and his eyes get soft again.

“You fell asleep, I didn’t want to wake you but we’re closing.” You explain and he yawns, your mind supplies ‘cute’ and you try to shove that away but he really is cute.

“I am so sorry!” He blurts out, stumbling over himself to stand up and gather his notepad. You stand and smile and try not to blush when he looks at you.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“I guess I was more exhausted then I thought,” He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

“You should get home to rest, it’s late.” You watch him pack up his bag and you follow him to the door. “Hey, uh, what’s your name?” Your stomach twists as you ask and he smiles sleepily at you and your heart stops.

“Peter Parker,” You introduce yourself aswell and watch him leave, walking down the sidewalk and pulling up his hood against the darkening sky. It’s dangerous to walk alone in NYC but he’s already long gone before you can get up the nerve to ask to walk with him. You take a breath and close the door, heading over to put away books, count up the money and gather your things just as your roommates pulls up to pick you up. You lock up and slide into the passenger seat.

“How was your day?”

--

It’s Tuesday when Peter comes back and you’re hunched over the counter reading your notes for a test you have tomorrow morning. You don’t notice him come in until he’s leaning on the counter and smiling at you as you lift your head, you blush and grin and Peter smiles wider. You push aside your papers and take note of how he doesn’t look so tired but he has a bruise forming on his jaw and your smile drops. Did someone hurt him? You reach out without thinking and brush gentle fingers over the dark red mark, purple already starting to show in the center. He flinches but doesn’t pull away, let’s you touch.

“Did someone do this to you?” You ask and you see panic flare in his eyes for a brief moment. His answer fumbles out and your heart races.

“I got, uh, mugged, no big deal”

“No big deal!? Peter, are you okay? I have some ice in the back come here,” You grab his hand and drag him into the back room. There’s an old couch and a mini fridge as well as a coffee pot and boxes of books. You sit him on the couch as he tries to tell you it's okay and you don’t have to do this but you grab an ice pack from the freezer and sit beside him, placing it lightly over his bruise.

“Did you go to the police? Are you really okay? Oh my god, i can’t believe this happened.” You ramble, heart pounding and Peter just looks at you with eyes and his chest rising and falling out of sync.

“I just met you, why are you so worried?” He almost sounds in awe you could say.

“I-I um,” you pull away and leave the ice pack on the table before you. You shift away from Peter and it hits you just how weird you’re being. You just met him, you shouldn’t be caring for his wounds and asking him questions, you should have asked if he was okay and moved on. Somehow you know you couldn’t do that and you come up with something to say beside ‘i like you and I’m worried.’

“I’m a nurse, I guess I have that instinct.” You explain it softly and shrug. Peter seems to let everything show on his face and you can see that disappointment and then wonder. Maybe he wants you to care.

“A nurse? That’s really cool.”

“Well, I’m just in school,”

“Still!” Peter gets a spark in his eyes and he shifts closer to you so your legs are touching. “That's really cool, Y/N, being a nurse in training is something to proud of.” You blush and look away, picking at your nails.

“Thank you, Peter.” You sit in silence for a moment, just listening to each other breath. It’s not awkward like silence with a stranger should be and then Peter takes the ice pack from where you left it and holds it to his bruise.

“I have to go find a book, but thank you.” He smiles softly and you just watch him leave wondering if this is what having a crush is like. You haven’t had a crush in so long, head buried in books and school and work, you’d forgotten what a crush feels like. You take a stuttering breath before walking out and hiding from Peter behind the counter, hopelessly trying to study.

He practically runs out of the building an hour later, phone gripped in his hand and you can’t even call out his name before he’s vanished. What’s gotten into him?

--

It’s late the same day, you’re counting out the money and closing the register when the bell above the door rings and you look up to see a frightening pair of men much taller than you and dressed like they’ve been living on the bare minimum of life. Your stomach is in knots as they approach you and one pulls out a gun, you gasp softly and start to hate your manager for never installing a panic button.

“It’s a bookstore! Who robs a bookstore?”

“I don’t know but it's better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’ll think about it, y/n.”

“Give us the money and we’ll be on our way.” One of them speaks and you know you should do what he says, give him the cash and hopefully they’ll leave. But you’re frozen, you can’t move, can’t think. You just stare and they grow impatient, cocking the gun and aiming it at your head, your heart slams against your ribcage, you’re screaming at yourself to hand over the money but you just can’t move and when the guy starts shouting and shoving the gun at you you can’t hear him, blood rushing in your ears.

And then you hear the bell and you all look over to see a boy dressed in blue and red standing there. Spiderman, and the gun switches targets and your heart feels like it’s in your throat. Spiderman shoots a web and snatches the gun, sticking it to the wall with a glob of webs. You can’t breath and you can’t move and Spiderman is jumping around and throwing punches and shooting webs and the criminals try to keep up but they miss and Spiderman dodges and then they’re running out the door and down the street. Spiderman yells a witty one liner after them but you can’t hear it, you can’t think and you’re on the verge of a panic attack. You’re breathing rapidly, heart slamming in your chest, you feel caged inside of yourself and then Spiderman is looking at you and then he’s in front of you holding your hands and speaking.

Slowly slowly you try to breath but instead you sob and shake and struggle to get anything into your lungs, your heart racing like it’s trying to prove something. Maybe that it's a race car. You try to focus on what he’s saying, his hands squeezing yours tight and slowly slowly you latch onto his voice.

“Y/N,” He sounds calm, in control, but worried sick as well. You focus on the words and the tone and your heart starts to slow word by word. “They’re gone it's okay, I’m here don’t worry I won’t leave you. You’re okay, just focus on me, I’ve got you.” You squeeze his hands back and then he’s leading you into the back and sitting you on the couch. He sits with you and you just stare at him, breathing starting to sync with his as he breathes loudly and slowly.

“T-thank you.” You choke out, still shaking but breathing okay.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asks and you nod. Spiderman lets go of your hands and cups your face, brushing away your hair and you lean into the touch. “I’m so glad i was nearby, i was worried about you working late. I know you always do but the other stores nearby were robbed recently and, and, I-”

“How…?” Is spiderman a stalker? You quickly come up with a new idea before he can explain and you sigh. “You were surveying the area?” It makes sense, so many robberies in the area of course he would be on the look out and catch details of those who work around here.

“Y-yes, Sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just observant.”

“Well, thank you.” he drops his hands and you clear your throat, feeling exhausted. He stands, seeming hesitant for a moment and then he’s all confidence and dorky superhero witty comments.

“Anytime, that’s what your friendly neighborhood spiderman is for!” He gives you a cheesy salute and says goodbye, telling you to get home safe, and then he’s gone and you call the cops about the gun.

There’s something about him...

--

Peter shows up the next day, rushing in and up to you. He must have heard about what had happened last night. He looks worried but then he smiles when he sees you, relaxing and you smile sweetly.

“Morning, Peter.”

“Morning, Y/N. You doing okay?” He asks and you nod and smile and your heart flutters thinking that he worries about you. “Oh, good, I was, uh, worried.” You reach out and squeeze his hand before turning and walking off to get back to work, feeling all the stress of last night melt away.

You work and Peter smiles at you from where he sits, scribbling notes and flipping through pages of a Stark textbook on something you can’t understand. He’s trying to solve something but you don’t ask what, you want to but you’re not sure he wants to tell you. Whatever he’s working on he keeps pretty close to his vest, almost like a secret. He stays late and he seems to watch the door just as often as you do, waiting for someone? Or is he worried too?

No one scary ever comes in, no criminals or gun wielding robbers, nothing, no one. And when it’s time to close and your roommate tells you they can’t give you a lift Peter offers to walk you home. He’s a little jumpy, well more cautious than jumpy and it makes you feel safe and looked out for. Peter is small but you can see the muscles under his shirt, he could take care of you. Listen, you’re not some damsel in distress but yes you’re terrified of the late night streets and you prefer having Peter beside you. Especially after last night.

“It’s only a few blocks,” You explain and he nods. You walk close together, bumping shoulders every once and awhile and you share shy smiles.

“I’m really glad I met you, Peter.” You say out of the blue, blushing under the night sky, and Peter’s eyes find yours as he smiles wide.

“I’m really glad I met you too.” He chuckles nervously and then his hand is linking with yours and you blush and he looks quickly to the floor. You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back and you both walk in silence for a while, just holding hands and letting the universe turn around you like you’re not part of it.

You reach your apartment building and you don’t want to let go of his hand and he doesn’t seem to want to either. You just stand there, holding hands and smiling nervously at each other, stars spinning and darkness getting darker, streets eerie but Peter a beacon of light when he smiles like he can’t help it.

“Thanks for walking me home, Peter.” You tell him, smiling softly.

“Anytime, that’s what I’m here for.” He giggles and you smile and he squeezes your hand before dropping it. You feel cold without his touch.

“How are you getting home? It’s late, It’s not safe.” You tell him and he shrugs.

“I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

“Will you text me when you get home?” You ask and he nods, smiling and blushing when you put your number in his phone. “You better text me, Peter Parker.” You smile and he smiles and nods and pockets his phone. He seems to take a shaky breath and then he steps forward and kisses your cheek, quick and nervous and then he’s stepping back too far. You smile and he’s blushing and pointing behind him.

“I should go, I’ll, uh, see ya.” He speaks nervously and your heart is skipping beats just looking at him.

“Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,”

And he’s gone, walking down the street and you watch him go until the eeriness of the night makes you turn and go inside. He texts you, saying he’s home and you save his number and send him a smiley face. Your heart is so full and light as you fall asleep.

[deathtonormalcy56]

I Confess - Part 7

Summary: The reader finally confronts Sam about what has been going on behind closed doors. (I know that’s a shitty summary, don’t need to tell me anything)

Characters: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 1064

Warnings: Angst

Beta: @unkindnessphalanges

A/N: So yeah, I know it has been forever, forgive me. I also know that this isn’t too long, but there is going to be one more part and it felt right to end this one here. Also I do have a taglist, and I do highly recommend rereading the last part since it picks up immediately from the ending. Hope y’all like this very late, (but hopefully) good part of I Confess. xoxo

I Confess Masterlist

Sam’s chest hitched upwards, accompanied by a sharp sucking noise. “You, and Dean,” he paused between each phrase, the words rolling thickly off his tongue, “you – you kissed?”

Too afraid to speak, you nodded your head.

“And -,” he stopped himself, his eyes darting downwards. Stray locks of his hair fell from behind his ears, cupping his face. Lowly he questioned, “And you slept together?”

You clenched your teeth together, squirming against the rough wooden door. Sure, you had known what exactly it was that you had done with Dean, but hearing it come from Sam’s mouth was different. It morphed an already nauseating reaction into something completely unbearable.

“Answer the question,” Sam coolly stated. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted his dangling fingers twitch. “Yes,” you babbled.

You watched anxiously as Sam turned his back to you. Every inch of him was taut and rigid as he slowly took a couple of steps away from the immobile mess you had become. A moment transpired before he pivoted back to face you.

Placing one hand on his hip, he hastily ran the other through his hair, “When?”

“The other night when I went to talk to him about the engagement,” you replied, searching Sam’s indecipherable body language for any sort of sign before continuing, “We – we slept together the night you two went to the bar. After making sure you were safe and alright, I went to check up on him, and well, you know what happened next.”

His chest heaved as a huff of frustration escaped him. Silently gnawing on his bottom lip and thrumming his fingers on the nook of his hipbone, he mulled over your words. Unable to stand the palpable tension any longer, you stammered out a hasty response – a big mistake.

“Sammy, I’m so sorry. I -.”

“You’re sorry? Really? That’s your best defense?” Sam scoffed, beginning to pace from side to side. “I gave you everything, (Y/N). My trust, my heart, all my being, I gave to you – and what do you do?” boring his eyes into the peeling walls, he jabbed a pointed finger in your relative direction, “You run, but not just to anyone. No, no, no. Joe Shmoe at some skimpy bar wasn’t good enough for you, it had to be my brother.”

Sam jolts to a halt – his shoulders slumped, but that failed to hide the soft tremble vibrating through them. “You just had to choose the one person on this whole earth who would cause the greatest causality,” his voice cracked at the end of his phrase, along with your already shattered heart.

“You make it sound like all of this was intentional, like some ploy all along,” you whimpered between clenched teeth.

“For all I know it was!” Sam yelled out, his hands flying outwards. It only took one glance into his eyes to see the fire that blazed behind the cool shades of green and brown. You gulped at his outburst, partly from the sudden change in attitude and partly from the fresh fear that coursed through your bones.

“God, damn it,” he griped. “I saw the way you looked at Dean before. Pinning for years for just a glimpse of reciprocation,” Sam’s fingers curled in and out at his sides, itching for something, but you couldn’t tell what. “I should’ve freaking known!”

This time his words came out in bursts, his tone tightening like a coil until he expelled it through a swift punch. You could hear the sharp crack of his fingers as they made solid contact with the wall. Sam was no idiot, he knew how to throw a death blow without getting injured himself, but that never meant he was spot on one hundred percent of the time.

He held his hand against the wall for a moment. Just long enough for you to notice the thin trail of red that had begun to dribble from his knuckles.

“Your knuckles are bleeding,” you pointed out feebly, “let me look at them.” Slowly you shuffled from your spot by the door and reached out to him. Suddenly aware of the shift of your presence, he stumbled back from you. Quickly he brought his still clenched fist to his side, droplets of blood marking the trail of his movement.

An antagonizing pain shot through your chest at the sight of him. The Sam Winchester you knew, strong and resilient against anything the world pitted against him was falling apart at the seams – and it was all your fault.

“Sam, please,” the words came out as a broken sob. Just as you thought you couldn’t possibly cry any more than you already have, tears pooled along your waterline. They had begun to trickle as your chest constricted, the need for air dire but impossible to quench. “Let me help you.”

“Don’t,” Sam’s eyes flicked up from the ground to meet yours, allowing you to see the mixture of hate and pure sorrow churning inside of him, “I don’t need your help, (Y/N). Hell, I don’t need anything from you now.”

The thud of his boots echoed in your skull as he pushed past you and made his way towards the door. As the door creaked open, he paused, giving you just enough time to register what was happening and pivot towards him.

Sam hovered in the frame. Snaking his hand into the front pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a glistening object. You weren’t sure how it had ended up there in between the ghost possession and fighting, but wedged in between his index finger and thumb was your engagement ring.

You stood frozen in place watching helplessly as he slid the metal into his palm and hurled it far and beyond the vacant parking lot into the darkness of the adjacent woods. Without glancing back, Sam firmly shut the door – as well as any chance of healing what was between the two of you.

You weren’t sure how long you remained in that position. Minutes, hours, all indecipherable as you gazed at the door holding onto the little hope you had that Sam would come back through. He never came, though. As your knees buckled, giving out beneath the crushing weight of realization, you let yourself crumple onto the floor, one sentence dancing in your thoughts.

He’s never coming back, and it’s all my fault.

Part 8

Forever Babes: @skybinx-blog @winchesterhunters67 @ashiewesker @heaven-bound-angel @iwriteaboutdean @thegreatficmaster @destiel-addict-forever @too-much-winchester @thatshellfiredean @chelsea072498 @thewalkingmombie @fabulouslyboredeveryday @dumblefedoratheexplorer @kydamyankee @purgatoan @mysteriouslyme81 @fangirl1802 @chelsea-winchester @imanunbrokenfangirl @riversong-sam @notnaturalanahi @nephiliim @mogaruke @missmotherhen @adaliamalfoy @babypieandwhiskey @supernaturallymarvellous @hamartiamacguffin @feelmyroarrrr @super100012 @27bmm @ahnanamouse @mamaredd123 @bohowitch @love-yourself-first-tfw @cyrilconnelly @arryn-nyx @crazynerdandproud

Series Tags: @anokhi07 @lullabyjensen @deansleather @percywinchester27 @sevendevilsinmyimpala @redheadglitter89 @hola-misha-minions @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @your-average-distracted-waffle @mrsbatesmotel53 @nerdwholikesword @sandlee44 @wildfirewinchester

*not doing Pond tags only because this is a love triangle and I don’t know what to put it under anymore lol*

[castiel-writerofthelord-blog]

Anniversary

Characters: TFW, SisterWinchester!Reader

Word Count: 2111

Warnings: Angst so hard you’ll bawl. Literally just an entire fic about angst.

A/N: Here it is! Oh my Chuck! Finishing this up today was such a hassle simply because of the amount of tears I had to cry to get through the ending. The fact I’ll have to go through it all again to type it up is gonna wreck me. I didn’t check myself before I wrecked myself. I played myself is what I did.

It’s been three years now. Three years and it hasn’t gotten easier for Sam, for Dean, for Cas. Each anniversary before was just as hard to watch your brothers and love of your life suffer all over again. You should have gone with him when you had the opportunity, but you didn’t; now you’re forced to live out their days watching them suffer. It wasn’t all bad though, for the most part you got the hang of the moving things around just to help them when they needed it most. Never on hunts though, you couldn’t risk going dark side, not to them.

You wandered the bunker’s halls, you wanted to help them out, but Dean sets EMF detectors around the bunker when he gets drunk, and you couldn’t disappoint your brothers, not again.  Now you could’ve gone in between the veil to get around faster, but it meant you were less than human so you reserved it for Baby and other doors.

Almost on cue you heard the quiet sobs of your big brother Sammy. You phased through the door and there he sat, eyes red and puffy, snot ran down his upper lip with one of the last photos of the family in his hand. “You never were the cute crier, Sammy.” Sam stopped and looked around the room as if he heard something. Usually the days were bearable, but seeing your family in so much pain on the anniversary hurt.

“Y/n? Please don’t tell me you’re here.” The hope and worry was strong in Sam; you couldn’t help it. You knew you shouldn’t, but you reached up to the shelf where Sam kept the ouija board he bought shortly after your last hunt and knocked it down. Your older brother jumped, hand on his gun until he saw the board and tensed up. He locked his bedroom door and laid the board out. “Pandabear are you here?” Sam didn’t want an answer, or maybe you didn’t want to give him one. Every fiber of your non-body wanted to ghost out, but you sat on the other side of the board instead and placed your fingertips on the planchette.

H.I.S.A.M.

He let out a breath of relieved air, tears refilling his eyes. “I miss you, Pandabear.”

I.M.I.S.U.2.S.W.

You and Sam talked like this for a good hour until he calmed down enough to tell him you had to check in with the other two nerds of yours. One last message of ‘I love you, Sam’ and guided the planchette down to goodbye and you were up off the floor. Sam looked more at ease knowing you were okay, even if you were now stuck here.

* * * * * * *

Cas was the next one you wanted to visit, but he was going to be the hardest as well. He was an angel, if you weren’t careful he could see and feel you, and quite frankly you weren’t sure if you were ready for that. You made your way to the kitchen where your trench coated angel had his head in the fridge, humming your favourite song as it played on his phone. 

The moment you stepped into the kitchen Cas stopped his food packing and turned his body. He breathed your name the way he did whenever you came back from a hunt, tears in his eyes. In this form you could see his tattered and broken wings, and his true face crying as he rushed to you to wrap his arms around your body, but they just went through it. “Cas, baby, I’m sorry.” You pursed your lips to stop your lower one from shaking as you saw him change; his already sad azurite eyes even sadder.“Why- why are you still here?”

“You won’t like it, baby.”

“Honey bee..” He tilted his head, mouth agape.

“I- I didn’t go with my reaper, Cas.” “Y/n... You know what happens.” He tried to place his callused hand on your cheek, tears freely falling from both yours and Cas’ eyes.

“I know, I’ve lasted this long though.”

You could do this, you needed to, but you’ve never done it before. With a sigh you focused on yourself, wanting to be as solid as you possibly could, still in your bloodied black and white flannel with a tiny panda pin on the collar. It was so hard to keep this form, but you needed it - Cas needed it. You reached out hoping it worked and was pleasantly surprised when your hand rested against his cheek. His eyelids fluttered closed as he melted into your hand with another hum.

When he figured out what he felt was love years ago he was afraid of what would come of it, but eventually he lost all defense when he felt your touch. It was so unlike an angel, and that’s what you loved the most about him. A warrior of God and Heaven melted and loved the touch of a human, and he may have fallen, but never in your eyes.

“Still an angel, my angel.” You choked out just before he crashed his lips into yours. Three years since you got to truly kiss your angel. Three years since you got to touch him. As you pulled back he rested his forehead against yours with a whimper, wanting more, but gave a sigh knowing he couldn’t and in doing so held back tears. “Cas, that hunt wasn’t your fault, you know this right?”

“If I was only there-” “No. You don’t get to do this, baby. That hunt was going to go bad no matter what.” Cas wanted to protest, but even an angel couldn’t win an argument against you. “I need to go. This is tiring me out, first time and all. Finish getting ready to see me. I love you.”

“Y/n... I greatly love you as well, honey bee.” With another deep sigh your corporeal appearance faded, but Cas stayed where he was a few more moments before going back to the fridge to pack all your favourite foods he could remember. “Thank you, baby.”

* * * * * *

For almost the rest of the day you had to walk around as ghostly as possible to recharge your batteries; every now and again popping from the veil to check on Dean, already drunk of course. You managed enough strength to follow him however when he hopped in Baby and ran his fingers over your initials carved into the interior which he then kissed his fingertips and pressed them to the carvings.

You sat in the car while Dean had stopped at a flower parlor. He usually let Sam or Cas handle this part since your oldest brother never did have a way with words - openly anyway. He came out with a small bouquet that at first looked like a random assortment, then you noticed the pink carnation, and the cattail, the cyclamen and purple hyacinth. In the bouquet there were many dark crimson roses and variations of the tea rose.

Tears swelled and spilled over and down your cheeks as Dean carefully placed the bouquet in the seat you sat in. The flower language was never really something Dean took an interest in, but when you talked about it he was clearly listening. You quietly sobbed, the radio switching on and Baby’s wipers going. “I miss you, Dean.”

“What the hell?” Dean lifted his hands off the wheel and reached back to grab the EMF meter that was going crazy, and you could almost hear his heart drop. “No. Y/n, Pandabear, you can’t be here.” You tried your breathing exercises to calm yourself enough Baby went back to normal, the EMF meter still going berserk. “Damnit, pandabear! You of all people aren’t supposed to be here!” He slammed his hands on the wheel, his voice cracking as he tried not to sob. “You’re not-... You can’t, Y/n.” He sat in silence for a moment until he backed out and headed back to the bunker; the entire time you stared at his face. Every time he started to think of you his face would contort into pain and sorrow. When he came to a stop at the bunker you placed your hand on his shoulder. He must’ve felt it since he tensed up and pulled himself from the car.

The ride up wasn’t usually so long, but today was different. They sat in silence, every now and again Cas would glance in your direction, hand where yours was and yet went through. Sam held the little panda plush in his lap; the last two years he simply bought a new one, this time it was beat up and faded - it was yours. Sam kept it in his room next to one of your pictures he took after you and Dean got him from Stanford. Dean of course drove, flowers in his lap, a grunt every now and again from his thoughts, but other than that spent the drive in silence.

They hit the dirt road and pulled up to the angel blade that was firmly placed in the ground, where your body was. Cas laid out the picnic stuffs, Dean gently laid the flowers in front of the blade, your own personal tombstone, Sam placed your panda next to the bouquet. “Tea rose and dark crimson rose... It suits the day very nicely, Dean.” Cas spoke, a gentle smile on his face.

You listened to your boys tell stories of you, the little embarrassing ones of your childhood to the moments they envied you during hunts or just in general. Dean had a drink in his hand the entire time, but never really took a drink from it. Sam and Cas both said their annual goodbyes as the sun was beginning to set, Dean telling them to give him a minute and to drive down to where the dirt road hit the main one. He had to say something to you in private.

When he was finally alone he poured the remainder of his drink at the base of your grave, a shaky breath leaving his lungs. “You know, Y/n, I couldn’t imagine a world where you were gone, guess that’s just our Winchester luck, huh? Well it fucking sucks. I should’ve never let you on that hunt, that’s on me. I just don’t wan-... I can’t let you go, I’m not that strong, Kiddo. I-I just want to take you back home to the bunker with us. Everyday I want to make you your favourite breakfast all over again. Three years of this and it’s not fair that bastard God took you from us instead of me. I miss you, Kid.

“I never really liked your music, but one always stood out that I made sure to play at least once every hunt with you, you remember? ‘If I were dying on my knees, you’d be the one to rescue me. If you were drowning out at sea, I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe.’ Remember that, Kid? That’s still true, even if it’s too late.” At this point Dean had tears threaten his eyes, his lips twisted into a quivering snarl. Tears stung your eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t do it again, but he was your big brother. “I-I don’t blame you dork, and I do remember. You did. Every damn time.” You swallowed hard holding onto your arm in shyness hoping you were seen.

“Y/n?” Dean scrambled to his feet almost in panic and wrapped his arms around you. “You stupid son of a bitch. You shouldn’t be here.” Your arms snaked their way around his neck as he sobbed into your shoulder.

“Yeah, I fucked up. Didn’t I, Dean?”

“No. Never you, but you know what happens to spirits that stick around, Kiddo.” “I can’t leave my brothers, Dean. We’re Winchesters.” You and Dean talked until the stars started to sprinkle the sky, when you started getting weak. “Look Dean, I don’t blame you for me dying, that’s on me, not you. So do me a favour and stop blaming yourself.” “I’m no-” “Bullshit, Winchester. You’ve done nothing but drink and got me that bouquet. So please, I’m not leaving and that’s not your fault either. I may be the youngest, but damnit Dean I’m always watching over you all.” You pulled him in for one last hug before you faded from his vision leaving him with puffy and red eyes. “Love you too, Kiddo.” You smiled at him and walked side by side as he made his way down to the Impala, a tiny but visible smile on his own lips. You will always watch over your family. Always.

[klbwriting]

This Place is Out of a Comic Book

Fandom: Supernatural/Gotham

Pairing: None? Reader is a hunter with the Winchesters

Warnings: some violence

Summary: You and TFW head to Gotham city to investigate a haunting and end up with help from Jim and Harvey

Note: This was super fun to write!  Love crossovers!

“Why does this town look like it’s out of a comic book?” you questioned your partners as the three of you drove into the foggy, dark metropolis of Gotham.  Sam looked up from his book and frowned.  Dean was already glancing around the streets, looking at the run down city like it was vaguely familiar to him.  They were coming here to investigate a string of strange deaths they figured was related to a spirit in an old abandoned orphanage.

              “I don’t know but it feels like I’ve seen this place somewhere before, and not on the news or anything like that,” he said, pulling into a seedy motel.  The three of you checked in and got to your room just as a gunshot was heard outside.  You looked at the boys before peeking out the door just in time to see two police detectives climb out of a car in the lot and face the room next to them where another man was facing them with a gun pointed.

              “Drop your weapon!” the younger more military like detective called.  The man looked terrified and tried to lower the weapon but it went back up.

              “We will shoot you!” yelled the other officer.  He was older and looked like he was 100% done with everything.  You saw the man’s face and noticed a certain twitch, noticed that he wasn’t in control.  Before they could shoot you jumped out the door and cold-clocked the guy in the face, knocking him out.  He crumbled to the ground and you saw the spirit leave his body, and so did the detectives.  They looked shocked and came running over, kicking the gun away and cuffing him. Dean and Sam were out of the room by now, wondering exactly what was happening.

              “He was possessed by the spirit,” you said to them.  They nodded slowly before starting to examine the guy, getting him awake and sitting him up to ask some questions.  The detectives looked at you like you were a little crazy.  You pulled them aside.  

              “Ok, explanation that sounds crazy time,” you said.  “I’m Y/N, that’s Dean, and that’s Sam.  We go around hunting the supernatural and killing what needs killed.  That man was possessed by a spirit and now we have to find who it is and destroy its bones before it causes anymore issues.”  The men looked between each other for a moment, a silent conversation occurring before they looked back at you.

              “I’m Jim, this is Harvey and we’ve seen enough crazy things that this doesn’t sound that terrible,” he said.  You smiled and nodded, happy you didn’t need to knock any cops out for once to escape.  “So where do you suppose this spirit comes from?”  Sam and Dean joined you and Sam held up his laptop showing an article about a large mansion that had once been an orphanage.

              “We think here, it seems like there was a violent murder there that closed the orphanage,” he explained.   Harvey nodded.

              “Ya, like ten years ago some kids decided they didn’t like their nanny and murdered her…by beheading,” Harvey said with a smirk.  Jim rolled his eyes and you were mildly disturbed by his morbid fascination.  Dean nodded, making the face he made when he was in agreement with someone.

              “Awesome,” he said.  “Well, where are the bones?  We burn ‘em the spirit goes away.”  Another look passed between Jim and Harvey.

              “They never found a body, supposedly it’s still in the house somewhere,” Harvey explained.  You, Sam, and Dean looked at each other and then shrugged.  You opened your mouth but Jim held up his hand.

              “No you can’t just burn it down, a crime boss lives there now,” he said.  The three of you groaned at once.

              “This Cas could help with this?” you asked Dean.  He shrugged and went off to call him while you and Sam muddled through ideas.

              “Come on, let’s go pay Mr. Cobblepot a visit and see if we can get him to let us in,” Jim said.  You looked at him quizzically.

              “Him and Penguin are buddies,” Harvey said.  Jim rolled his eyes.

              “Friends with a mob boss…interesting place,” Sam said as Dean rejoined the group.

              “Cas will stop by if he can but he’s busy at the moment,” Dean said.  “Somewhere in California.”

              “He would be too late to help anyway,” Jim said.  You smirked, loving the look you would get when you told them what Cas really was.

              “He’s an angel, he can be here in an instant,” you said.  The detectives glanced between each other with utter disbelief this time.  That was on thing they couldn’t fathom, until with a flutter, Cas appeared next to you.

              “Hello, I’m here,” he said.  Harvey grabbed his chest and Jim jumped nearly 10ft in the air.  Cas cocked his head to the side, confused.  “Did I scare you?”

              “Angel friend?” Jim asked you.  You smirked and nodded.  “Cas right?”

              “Yes, Castiel, but they prefer the shortened version of my name,” he answered.  You filled him in on what was going on and he disappeared for another minute before coming back.   “The bones are in the house, in the attic, hidden behind a false wall.  Now I have to go back to what I was previously doing.”

              “Thanks Cas,” Dean said as the angel vanished.  “Well, we better get over to that house before someone else becomes Linda Blair.”  You all murmured in agreement and followed Jim and Harvey to the mansion.  The five of you approached the door which was opened immediately by a short, hook-nosed man who was glaring.  “Wow, someone never grew out of their emo phase…” Dean muttered.  You snorted a laugh, receiving a deadly glare from the man.

              “Hello Oswald, can we have a chat?” Jim asked.  Oswald eyed you all before stepping aside.  When Dean tried to enter the cane Oswald had blocked his entrance.

              “I would recommend you watch your mouth now pretty boy, everyone who works here will put a bullet in you if I tell them too,” he said before allowing the two of you entry.  Dean glanced at you and shrugged, nonplussed by the treatment.  Not the first time he’d been threatened, and by much scarier things than the emo penguin.  Oswald gathered you all into the dining room where he sat back down to his dinner.

              “So Oswald, we need in your attic for like 10 minutes if that’s alright,” Jim said, getting right to the point.  Oswald took a bite of his food and chewed slowly, making Jim roll his eyes again.

              “If you keep doing that detective your eyes are going to get stuck in the back of your head,” you said without thinking.  Jim turned to glare at you as Dean, Harvey, and even Oswald snorted a laugh.  You just shrugged as Oswald wiped his mouth and set the napkin down.

              “Is the reason you want in the attic because there is a body up there from long ago?” he asked.  “One that may be possessing my men into acting like murderous, mothering ninnies?”  You all turned to him to stare for a moment. “Butch has been insufferable for the last few hours, acting like I am a child and threatening to punish me, if it is because of those old bones do what you need to.”

              “Thank you Oswald, I promise this won’t take long,” you said, starting to stand.  He grabbed your hand and pulled you back to sit.

              “Just in case you are all looking for something else…you stay and keep me company,” he said, holding up his steak knife and looking menacingly at you.  Dean glared and Sam stood up to object, causing the other men in the room to grab their guns, but you held up your hand.

              “Don’t worry about me boys, I’ll be fine, just go burn those bones and we can get out of here,” you said.   Oswald nodded like you had answered correctly.  The guys glanced between each other but followed Jim and Harvey upstairs. “So this, Butch is possessed?” you asked.  Oswald nodded and continued eating.

              “Yes, brandished a cleaver at me, we locked him in the basement for now until this is over,” he said.  “I would like my second in command back, he’s good for the muscle work.”

              “And don’t tell me, you’re the brains of the operation?” you asked.  Oswald smirked and swallowed again, looking at you.

              “You are the brains of your operation also,” he said.  You laughed and shook your head.

              “I’m not sure what I am, Sam in the brains and Dean is the brawn, I’m just, there,” you answered, shrugging some.

              “You’re the beauty,” he said.  This actually made you blush a little.  Before you could speak the guys came back and Dean nodded that the job was done.  You threw a smile at Oswald and stood, going back to your boys.  “Thank you for your company Y/N.”  A moment later and Butch was back in the room, thoroughly back to normal and looking around confused by how late it was.

              “You were wonderful company Oswald,” you said, giving him a little curtsy before you left with the detectives and the brothers.  You all said goodbye before driving out of the city.

              “Well, that place is weird,” Dean said as he drove into the night.  You shrugged and settled your head on the window.

              “It wasn’t so bad, maybe we should visit again,” you said as the fog dispersed and you were suddenly in the real world again.

[notnaturalanahi]

Abstinece

Characters/Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word count: 1464

Warnings: I’m gonna keep the short today, SMUT, unprotected sex. 

Your legs are hurting, calves cramping, thighs burning, probably for being in a squatting position for the past five minutes. Oh, and running four miles every day for the last week of course.

The cold air brings goosebumps all over your skin and a small shiver here and there, but there’s no way you’re leaving this fridge without finding it.

Having already finished your weekly fruit supply, power bars and healthy snacks adding to that a big bag of lollipops is enough. Besides, is the middle of the night and you can’t just walk to the store, although in the back of your head you may be considering it. The thing is, the guys decided to take away your car keys, in case you find yourself in a situation like this one.

Ooh, but you have an ace up your sleeve… or you think. You’re certain you hid one last cigarette at the bottom of the vegetable cabinet.  So,why is it not there!?

“Looking for something?” A low-growl-like voice startles you, making you jump up and hit your head against the top shelf of the fridge door and landing butt first on the hard concrete floor.

“Fuck!” You look up at him as he steps out of the shadows. “Not only I’m super exhausted by all working out I’m doing to avoid eating everything in this god damned kitchen, because I have this freaking urge in me. But also now I have to add have a fucking bump in the head, and possible future headache and sore ass to the list. Thanks a lot Sam!”

He chuckles and you roll your eyes while rubbing your head. “You didn’t answer my question.” Husky voice, thick with sleep a bit more demanding this time.

“What? What question?”

He chuckles again and you do your best to ignore the tingling sensation traveling down your body. “You’re a mess,Y/N! I said, ‘Looking for something?’”  

“NO. I actually decided to deactivate the atomic bomb that’s been ticking inside this fridge. Of course I’m looking for some-” gasping at the realization you point at him. “You took it! How could I been so dumb. You always check the vegetable drawer!”

Sam smirks at you and continues to get closer, stopping right in front of your face. Only now you notice him clearly, under the bright yellow light of the refrigerator. He’s barefoot, gray sweatpants cover his long, long legs and hang dangerously low over his sharp hipbones. You eyes venture north, taking in his strong heaving chest clad in only a too-tight t-shirt.

You swallow hard because of the closeness of his crotch to your face once you lower your gaze; the nicotine abstinence had woken up a hunger inside, the one that can’t be satisfied with food. With a sight you shake your head out of the impure thoughts to remember what’s going on.

“Give it back?” You hiss.

“Can’t. I flushed it” He shrugs.

“What!? No! You didn’t. Why? No!!” You whine and shout as he gloats.

Sam bends over so hi head is right above yours, the ends of his silky locks tickling your forehead as you crane your neck up to meet his eyes. “Because you don’t need it, you’ve been doing so well for the past two weeks, I’m not gonna let you slip, Y/N.” His warm breath caressing your skin and you tremble.

“But I need it.”  You whisper, closing your eyes and dipping your head further back when you see hi come even closer. “I’m going crazy... you have no idea. I need only one dry, just one.”  A choked sob escapes your lips between words. “I need to suck on something so bad to contain my oral anxiety!”

Your eyes flutter open the second you realize what you say. Sam’s standing straight and you witness the bulge inside his pants twitch, your eyes go up as your lips part, and you see Sam breathing heavily, somewhat embarrassed.

He takes a step back and without thinking you extend your arms, fisting your hands on the cotton fabric to drag him back to you, letting your primal instincts take over. You pull the sweats down his hairy legs, releasing the awakening basilisk.

Your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack at the sight of his massive half hard cock. Licking your lips you glance back up through your lashes. “Sam?” you mumble his name, asking for permission.

Sam’s chest puffs and your arousal soaks through your underwear as your tongue darts out to taste the beam of precum leaking from the tip of his swollen head. The roaring sound coming from atop spurs you on to slide your tongue to the base of his shaft and then coming back up, wrapping your lips to the underside.

Sam moans when your mouth opens and you suck him into your wet heat, as much as you can, bobbing your head up and down his length at a slow pace. His hips thrust forward, causing you to  speed up merging your movements in a perfect rhythm.

Suddenly his fingers tangle in your hair on the back of your head, as he urges you to stay still. You comply, squirming under his ogling stare. Clutching your hair hard he pushes deeper and deeper, hitting the back of your throat each time. You gag until tears start falling from the corner of your eyes. All at once you feel like throwing up and pull away, coughing.

Sam’s hands slip under your arms and he pulls you up to your feet and before you can open your mouth to say something, his lips are on yours and he kisses you fervently.  One hand at the back of your neck, as the other one roams your body.  

“I always wanted you, Y/N.” Sam confesses in your ear with a voice thick with lust and desire, you moan and kiss him again. He slides his hands under your ass, giving you a little squeeze before scooting you up. Out of instinct you wrap your legs around his narrow waist  and he proceeds to carry  you to table.

You watch as he takes your running shoes off and then tries to remove your sport pants along with your panties but they’re too tight, clinging to our body, so you help him lifting your butt and towing them down. Immediately Sam grabs you by the legs and brings you closer to him. He grips his length pumping himself leisurely, making it slicked by rubbing it to your folds.

“Stop teasing and fuck me already!” You demand, propping yourself on your elbows and he laughs.

“Not yet, I need taste you first.” Bringing your leg up over his shoulder he kneels down in between your legs. Kissing and nibbling along the inside of your thigh, leaving marks of dominance; placing his fingers strongly on both sides of your hips to keep you in place he moves his mouth closer. His sinful lips brush against your clit and your whimpers turn into loud moans when he sucks the pink nub into his mouth, running his tongue over your slick folds.

You reach the back of his head and pull at his hair, he moans and the vibrations push you closer to the edge, his tongue runs down your pussy slipping into you, you grind your hips onto his face, lightings  start flashing behind your eyes and you shout his name as you come undone.

Sam stands back up, leaning forward to kiss your lips making you taste yourself in him. Forcing your legs wide open, he pushes his cock in you, so suddenly the burning sensation of his wide girth stretching your wall takes you by surprise.Your pubic bones flushed together.

The two of you move together, pressing and pulling and grinding, everything builds up, and he has on the verge again, slamming in and out of you. The head of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot with each thrust. Unable to control yourself you come, clenching around him,

Sam pulls out, letting your legs drop on the edge of the table he walks around you, positioning himself above your head. He jacks off fiercely and you open your mouth watching as his movements turn irregular. His cock stiffens and his seed shoot with such a force it barely hit your chin and lands right on your chest.

Looking at him straight in the eyes you pass a finger over his still warm cum and bring it to your mouth, moaning at his salty taste. Sam moves his hair away from his hair and lift you up, bridal style.

“Where are we going?” You ask innocently and bite your lip.

“To my room.” He growls. “This isn’t over yet.”

Smut tags:

@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @deadlykittenkay @paintrider13-blog

@megansescape @mariairwin666 @whyhello-there @willow580

@bttmcas-confessions @fandommaniacx @thegreatficmaster

@devilgirlsarah @hunterintraining1967 @emilyymichelle @gecko9596

@nadiandreu7 @just-another-busy-fangirl @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms

@feelmyroarrrr @atc74 @indypihlak @supernaturalstoriess

@its-my-perky-nipples @policeofficerdean @krysagami

@winchesters-princess @ultimatecin73 @mogaruke @samslittlespoon

@mypopculturediva @love-kittykat21 @buckysmetallicstump @valerieshubin

@jennandthecats @sassy-losechester  @thanithlowisabamf

@love-yourself-first-tfw @sexyashmike

[sunnybimbo]

tfw i meant to post this late night but i put it in my queue by accident

ao3 link here

have some garrison trio for hunk’s birthday because B O N D I N G and also i was riding a big sugar high so it isn’t as Epic as i wanted it to be

but it was fun!

It was early morning. Or late night?

It was 4 a.m., about.

Target: Asleep. Probably having a good dream by the looks of those drool stains. His covers half thrown off the bed, and he was near suffocating in his snores.

Perfect.

Lance launched himself from his balcony to Hunk’s, nearly slipping on a clump of ice.

“Toss the goods, Eagle Two!”

Pidge rolled her eyes, but threw the ‘goods’ (an old backpack, stuffed to the brim with… secrets) at him nonetheless.

“Do you even remember how to pick a lock?”

“Uh duh. I’ve watched like… a million spy movies.”

Pidge shook her head exasperatedly. “Your funeral when you set off every alarm in the house.”

Lance flipped her off as she hopped over the banister, joining him on the other side.

Alright. Bobby pin? Check.

Credit Card? Expired, but that didn’t matter.

Spare key to the front door in case he couldn’t pick the lock? Back pocket.

“Let’s do this.” He grinned, cracking his knuckles. The bobby pin was then unceremoniously shoved into the keyhole.

And the door creaked open with the motion. No fiddling with locks needed.

“Huh.”

Pidge just barely resisted smacking her forehead. “You dingus. Rule one of anything ever is to always check if the door’s locked.” She climbed over him, and nearly face-planted into Hunk’s dresser as Lance tripped her.

“Oops.” He feigned innocence, fluttering his lashes at her as she rounded on him.

They began to loudly whisper out an argument. Pidge’s arms crossed, and then she flicked him. Lance gasped, offended.

They were just about to resort to a slap-fight when a loud groan interrupted them.

“What are you guys doing?” Hunk asked, sitting up to rub sleep from his eyes. His bedhead was a thing of beauty, hair framing his forehead like a crown. Or a halo.

“Oh, you’re awake! Good, good.” Lance didn’t bother with keeping his voice down any longer. Instead, he jumped on the bed (shoes and all) and began to bounce up and down excitedly. “Hurry up and get dressed, dude! It’s time!”

Hunk curled up in his fluffy comforter as his eyes drifted shut again. “Time for what?”

“Summertime.”

Pidge pulled on the back of Lance’s shirt, tugging him from his perch. “Don’t you dare quote High School Musical.”

“Pidge, you’re the one who showed it to me.”

“And that was a mistake.”

“Yeah, well - Hunk! Don’t fall back asleep, ya party-pooper. Sun’s shinin’!”

“No it’s not.” Hunk whined, but sat up again as requested. “What are we doing this early, anyway?”

Lance dug into his backpack and pulled out a badly drawn map. “We’re going on an adventure!”

“I swear, Lance, if you don’t stop with the movie quotes I will find every DVD you own and-”

He interrupted Pidge. “Hey, see, I wasn’t even trying to quote anything that time. You nerd.” Lance rolled up his map. “Now, help me get him out of bed.”

The two rounded on either side of Hunk’s bed and flipped the covers off.

Lance shrieked.

“Dude, where are your pants?” He cried, covering his eyes.

Pidge rolled her own again. “He’s wearing underwear, Lance. It’s not like you haven’t seen him naked, anyway.”

Hunk grumbled as he rolled out from under his covers, finally.

“Yeah, well… I know you are but what am I?” Lance stuck his tongue out.

Pidge didn’t grace that with a response. Instead, she jumped on the bed behind Hunk and shoved her phone under his face. “Get up, Oh Yellow One. If we’re gonna beat traffic, we have to leave in five.”

“Where are we going?” Hunk yawned, ambling to the bathroom.

Lance stopped his feet exasperatedly. “I already told you. Road trip!”

“But- why?”

“It’s a secret.”

Pidge tapped idly at her phone. “It’s your birthday, dude. We’re taking you to the beach. You and Lance can spend your day being burnt by U.V. rays and swallowing dirty, salty water all you want.”

“Aw, Pidge. You know I’m gonna drag you along to do all of that with us.” Lance cooed, peeking over her shoulder. “But also, we are a little behind schedule. Our first plan was to kidnap you and shove you in a truck, which would have been a lot faster.”

“Thanks for not doing that.” Hunk said behind his toothbrush. “I’d rather not pee myself on my birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now hurry up!”

---

They were stuffed into Pidge’s tiny Punch Buggy and were soon holding on for dear life as she barely kept within the speed limit.

“Hunk, if we die I want you to know I love you!” Lance squealed as Pidge cut between two cars in the left lane, only to swerve in front of another as she overtook it.

“You babies. I’m barely going that fast. Besides, we have to get onto the main highway by 5 in order to really beat rush hour. So hold onto your toes!”

Hunk screamed as it looked like they were about to rear-end someone. Then, Pidge turned at the last second to an empty H.O.V. lane.

“There we go. Smooth sailing from here, probably!”

With a groan, Hunk covered his eyes, shoving his head between his knees. “Oh, no.”

“Projectile, incoming!” Lance cried, flying from the front seat to the back to give him something to throw up in.

---

Hunk did not throw up, but Lance took over as driver as soon as Pidge pulled off at the next exit. She pouted as she climbed into the back. “We were making good time.”

“Yeah, but we’d rather get their late with our lives than on time without any bones.”

“Lame.”

---

Lance, unfortunately, was just as good a driver as Pidge.

“You son of a mother- USE YOUR BLINKER!” He pushed his hand on the horn and held it for a solid five seconds.

Hunk was going to die. He was definitely going to die on this, the day of his birth.

“I swear to all that is holy in heaven… GO! The light is green!” Lance revved the engine. The car in front of him flipped them off and Lance-

“Lance, no.”

Lance hunkered down, shoulder up to his ears as he squinted at the car. Target: sighted.

“Lance, yes.”

The car took off and Lance was hot behind it in pursuit.

They hadn’t even made it back on the highway yet.

---

Hunk sighed, apologizing once again to the police officer as they made their way back to their car. Lance had his arms crossed as he sat shotgun, and Pidge was barely holding in her mirthful laugh at his expense.

Looks like it was up to the birthday boy to actually get them where they needed to go.

“You guys are ridiculous.” He sighed, clipping in his seatbelt. “I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Pidge burst out laughing, holding her stomach as she rolled around in the backseat. “Did you see his face? And the cop, and-” Her laugh evolved to breathless squeaks, and soon the other two were laughing along with her.

“Sorry, dude.” Lance nudged Hunk in the arm.

“No problem. Just remind me to never leave my balcony unlocked again, yeah?”

“Mm… I’ll see what I can do.”

---

Eventually, the other two passed out. Pidge, probably because she hadn’t gotten any sleep that night. Lance, most likely from the amount of food he’d stuffed into himself from the gas station. Seriously, a chilli dog, chilli cheese fries, a bowl of chili, three kinds of potato chips, and a slushie?

Hunk gagged thinking about it. But whatever made him happy?

He was given time to think, though, about his friends.

This was his first real semester away from his family back in Hawaii. Of course he couldn’t just drop money to buy a ticket to visit for one weekend, not when he was drowning in that much debt. But, they’d sent him well wishes through various phone calls and texts, so he knew they didn’t forget. They’d never forget.

But he knew that if he’d been left alone that weekend, he’d probably have fallen into a depression. Lance and Pidge probably knew that, too.

He needed to remember to thank them for thinking about him, later.

---

Rush hour came and went, and they passed numerous car accidents, construction workers, and hitch-hikers.

Pidge slept through most of it. Lance, however, woke almost as soon as Hunk reached a comfortable cruising speed about two miles under the speed limit.

“How’s the time?” His lanky friend yawned, curling his legs up to his chin. How he did that in such a tiny seat, Hunk would probably never know.

“We’ll be there in like an hour.” Hunk hummed, turning down the radio. “Maybe a little over. Looks like some traffic ahead.”

“Gross.”

Hunk smiled. “Yeah. You can go back to sleep though. I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Nah… I feel bad making the birthday boy drive, anyway.” Lance fiddled with the radio stations, boredly rolling his eyes as they were stuck on commercial for every single channel.

“Let’s play a game. I Spy? Never Have I Ever?”

“I Spy doesn’t seem like a lot of fun when there are only cars, trees, and you know… highway stuff sitting around us. And don’t you need to drink something for Never Have I Ever?”

Lance threw his hands up exasperatedly. “Details!”

---

They ended up just singing karaoke.

Then some upbeat electronica popped on and Pidge gasped, throwing herself over the middle armrest to turn it up. “I love this song!”

“Pidge, seatbelt!” Hunk shrieked, narrowly avoiding a collision. She blew a raspberry directly into his ear before she plopped back into her seat, loudly clicking her seatbelt.

“I thought you only listened to country music.” Lance says, as if the words physically repulse him.

“Don’t make me bring up your song choices, Mister ‘Naruto Opening 7 Is In My Playlist Eight Times In A Row’.” She huffed.

Lance turned around in his seat, nose high in the air. “I’m blocking you.”

Pidge flicked him. “You love me.”

---

Their impromptu argument ended when Hunk accidentally flipped stations, and his favorite song was on.

This began the karaoke battle to end all karaoke. If they started a band, they would’ve risen to the top mere seconds after their first album dropped.

Traffic was at a stand-still, so Hunk was free to drum his hands across the dashboard. And so he did, not only hitting every single beat, but also able to find the right notes. Or, as close as he could get, on the plastic interior.

Lance was a master of air guitar. And head-banging. But the fact that he actually knew how to play the instrument made it that much more interesting to watch. Especially the way his fingers curled and flicked over the imaginary strings? It was captivating. Lance just had that kind of aura, though.

Pidge was… not as into it as the boys. But she was an amazing singer. Her voice was loud, unafraid, and boy could she hold a note. Hunk whooped every time she reached a high note, and whenever she sped through a rap, the other two went crazy.

It was a hell of a show, and Lance commented as much once they’d slumped back in their seats, voices dead and energy palpable.

“We should do this more often.”

“Only if you pay for my gas.” Pidge griped, rubbing at her throat.

---

They made it within 45 minutes instead of the assumed hour, despite the strange influx of traffic. And the beach was surprisingly empty, despite it being a weekend.

Lance just tugged a bundle of beach towels over his shoulders and raced off into the sand. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!”

Hunk and Pidge shared a look, but they followed suit. Hunk grabbed the cooler, and Pidge grabbed the umbrella and backpack.

It was only about midday, but it was the perfect time to snack and sunbathe.

---

Lance had already flipped out of his clothes, revealing his bathing suit underneath.

“You’ve been wearing that the entire time??” Pidge’s eyebrows shot up beneath her bangs as she pulled her short hair into a tiny ponytail. “Wasn’t it uncomfortable?”

“Nah, it was just like plastic boxers.”

Pidge grimaced, but decided not to comment. Instead, she pulled her bag over her shoulder and left to look for somewhere to change.

Hunk had not brought a swimsuit (since he didn’t really have prior warning). But he didn’t really mind, since he didn’t plan on swimming much anyway. He always preferred building sandcastles to riding waves, anyway.

Lance, however, was probably born for the ocean. It showed, when he dove in and reappeared like a million miles away from where he started in the span of three seconds. Hunk shot him a thumbs-up as he began to fill in a moat for his sand-tower.

There was a quiet peacefulness between them for a long while. Mostly because they couldn’t really talk while Lance was neck-deep in the water, and Hunk shoulder deep in sand. But it was good. Relaxing.

Er, rather… it was, until Pidge rushed back to Hunk on the beach, flipping the beach towel from underneath him and nearly crumbling his sandcastle.

“Woah, woah. See a ghost, Pidge?”

“We have to go now.” She shrieked, face aflame. Hunk shot up, reaching out to place a worried hand on her shoulder.

“What happened?”

Pidge mumbled something into her hands as Lance dashed to meet them, saltwater dripping from him in every direction.  

“What’s going on?”

Hunk shrugged. “Something happened to Pidge.”

She made a frustrated noise and covered her eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t research this.”

Lance and Hunk shot each other a frightened look. “Research what, Pidgeon?” Lance spoke up.

“This is, uh…” Pidge couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting. “A nude beach. As in… full-on… penile action.”

“Oh.” The two pulled back. “Ohh…”

Pidge looked absolutely mortified, and Lance couldn’t stop himself from laughing at her misery. “Aw, Pidge! I already knew this was a nude beach!”

“You what.” Hunk deadpanned.

“Yeah, dude. This part isn’t really used, but yeah. It’s technically all a nude beach.”

Pidge shouted indignantly as she began to slap his arm with her tote bag. “You didn’t think to tell us that?”   

“Ow.” Lance whined, hiding behind Hunk, who had honestly given up on them already. “Sorry, Piggy Wiggy. I forgot.”

“Tell that to my retinas. I’ll never unsee that taint.”

Hunk made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat.

---

Despite the… slight disruption, the trio did end up having the time of their lives. Lance was 100% correct when he said that the part of the beach they were on wasn’t used. Throughout the entire five or so hours they loitered around, they saw maybe five other people tops.

Hunk and Pidge joined forces to create the grandaddy of all sandcastles. Complete with a miniature dragon that circled a tower. Pidge mostly did the structural engineering, but Hunk did the design.

Once Lance had had enough of tiny fish swimming up his trunks, he let out a low whistle as he took in the sight.

“Remind me to bring you guys in when Keith needs help with his art projects. This is amazing.”

Hunk grinned. “Thanks. I’m probably never gonna get sand from under my nails, though.”

Pidge put the finishing touch on the bridge over their moat and stood with a victorious dusting off of her hands. “Worth it.”

It truly was, though. Four identical towers (with one dragon) circled a large castle that tapered at the top. The moat took most of the eye, and was in a flowing, intricate design that probably should have been researched by professionals with how smoothly it stuck together.

“Looks like a spaceship, though.”

“A space-castle.” Hunk amended. “Sounds like a dream to me.”

Pidge turned up her nose. “Sounds like a hassle to clean. Who knows what kind of gunk gets stuck in a “space-castle” engine. And where does the waste go?”

“Hush, hush.” Lance checked an imaginary watch on his wrist. “We have to get going, so pack up your bags, little children. We’re already gonna get stuck in traffic.”

Pidge snapped a picture of their piece of art, and Lance instantly struck a pose behind it. Then, she took a few more of all three of them together, if only for Lance to post on his social media.

“Rest in pieces, space-sandcastle.” Pidge mourned, before shoving her foot directly through the middle of it. Hunk clutched his heart dramatically, and Lance clapped his hands together, holding them up to his mouth.

“It lived well.”

“May it find peace.”

---

“Did you have fun, though? Birthday boy? Light of my life? Hunky-hunkster?”

Hunk grinned, stretching his arms above his head before he closed the car door. “I did. A lot.”

Lance let out a cheer that Pidge weakly mimicked from her sprawled out position. She’d taken shotgun this time, and her feet were smudging the windshield as she spread them across the dashboard.

“I really appreciate it, you guys.” Hunk shyly spoke up, “I know we didn’t do much but… It means a lot that you spent all day with me.”

“Ohoh, Hunk… don’t think this is the end of it. We have a whole dinner-show combo planned out!” Lance reached up to hook his arm around Hunk’s shoulders. “We may have finagled the dining hall for private use for an hour or so.”

“You did not.”

“Never question what Pidge can achieve.” Lance said sagely, and Pidge shrugged as she nodded along with him. Hunk was inclined to agree.

“Wait, so…”

“Yep! Prepare your butt, birthday boy. The activities have only just begun!” Lance dropped back into his seat. “So, let’s hit the road! I convinced Shiro to put on a malo and do that dance you taught us a while ago.”

Hunk probably would have choked if he’d been drinking something.

“There is no way. Shiro??”

Lance grinned, and Pidge snickered at him.

“Guess you’ll just have to see, yeah?”

Hunk shook his head. “I have the most amazing friends in the world.” Seriously. Hunk probably would have started to cry, if he wasn’t trying to focus on the road.

His two best friends shared a meaningful look, and they winked.

“And don’t you forget it!”

Mission accomplished.

[angededesespoir]

We can’t always get what we want

A/N:   For Day 1- Past/Then and Now.  

.....Tfw the characters go off script & you just kinda have to roll w/ it and rework your plans.

(Anyway, so despite my original intentions, this wound up becoming Jesse pining after Jack & Gabe, and instead of Jack and him getting together like I originally wanted, they wind up becoming really close friends (w/ Jesse still having feelings for him.....and Jack’s feelings are a bit ambiguous, I suppose).  This is mostly centered on Jack & Jesse, but I will say that Gabe and Jack are together in this fic. [briefly & in implied statements] because I’m a multishipper & despite trying to suppress it, one of the OTPs had to emerge, I guess.  (*Glares at myself*  Can you not do one thing right?)  

I’m thinking I’m probably going to try writing another thing for this prompt, too, where I can actually manage to get Jack & Jesse together.

For now, complicated friendship will have to do.)

Anyway, hopefully this is okay.

(Can be read on AO3.)

He’s just turned twenty when he starts to notice the feelings emerge.

It happens suddenly, after a particular incident, late one night when he had gone to deliver a report to Reyes.  He approached the open door quietly, about to knock when his eyes locks onto the pair.  He instinctively moves back into the shadows, watches the commanders as they tenderly kiss, hands lovingly caressing eachother.  He knows he should probably leave, but he can’t seem to make himself turn away.  

He has never seen the two so gentle, so seemingly at ease.  He has only seen them hard at work, focused and serious (the occasional joke or smile, of course, but nothing like this).  

There’s a sudden pang in his heart as he watches.  ‘This is love,’ he realizes.   This is love, and it hits him just how badly he wants a taste.

He hastily moves back down the hall (he’s already seen too much, and he doesn’t want to risk getting caught), heads to his room, original task forgotten.

He cannot get the image out of his head.  He can’t help but fantasize- an alternation of Jack’s soft lips and Gabriel’s cracked ones against his own, what their muscular bodies would feel like pressed against him.

He keeps flicking back to Jack, though.  He doesn’t get the privilege of seeing him often, of interacting with him much.

He wants that more than anything.

--

It’s a few months later when he finally works up the nerve.  

He’s rattling on about a report and when he reaches the end, when he still holds the commander’s full attention, he asks him on a date.  Nothing big- just a dinner date over a movie on TV.  

(He figures that few to no people know about the two commanders, and he doesn’t quite know how to approach Gabriel, how to voice his desires, how to face possible rejection.  But with Jack, there’s still distance.  If something goes wrong, he’s easier to avoid.  It’d be easier to pretend like nothing happened.

And regardless of how things went, he figures this is the easiest way of killing two birds with one stone.  Jack will have to tell Reyes about the encounter, he thinks.)

Jack looks stunned.  “This is.....unexpected.”

Jesse rubs the back of his neck nervously, but tries to act flippant, like it doesn’t matter to him if the man accepts or not.  “It’s nothing serious or anything.  I just thought you could use a little break, a little fun.  If it makes you feel more comfortable, you can invite Commander Reyes to join us.”

He swears for a second that Jack looks like he’s seen a ghost, but then he’s composed again.  “Why would I-”

“It’s okay,” Jesse cuts him off.  “I know about the two of you.  Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

Jack tries not to show any emotion, but Jesse can sense the uneasiness..

“Listen, Jack,” he gives a pause, tests the water.  Morrison does not object.  “I like the two of you.  A lot.  I reckon it’d be nice to spend some time with y’all outside of work, where we can toss aside titles and just enjoy time together as equals.  There’s no pressure.  Take your time to think it over, discuss it with...Gabriel.”

Jack shifts in his chair.  “.....Jesse, listen, I like you.  You’re a good agent.  But have you thought about this?  How it would look if I-  I mean, with our positions, not to mention age...”

Jesse rests a hand on the desk, leans forward.  “Jack, I’ve thought about this.  I thought about this for months.  Listen, I’m not a kid.  I know there’s possible repercussions.  But I trust you two.  And I trust we can all keep work separated from our personal lives.”

Jack smiles, shakes his head.  “You act as if that’s a simple thing, McCree.  But for both Gabriel and I, our lives are our work.”

He clears his throat.  “Listen, Jesse, I appreciate your.....admiration, but I don’t think I can reciprocate in the manner you desire.  If you wish, we can try to be friends, but I don’t think anything more would be appropriate at this time.”

McCree shifts.  “It’s the rank, ain’t it?”

Morrison smiles sympathetically.  “It’s many things.  I’m sorry.”

Jesse shrugs, looks down at his feet.  “Well, I guess I’ll be going.”

Morrison looks like he’s about to say something; Jesse doesn’t give him a chance.

He’s too busy trying to hold back tears.

--

It’s two years later.  He’s managed to grow closer to Jack.  The desire still burns, and sometimes when he catches sight of his smile, there’s a fluttering in his chest. (It’s the same thing with Gabriel, but his smile is much more rare.  It’s a beautiful sight to behold, for those lucky enough to see it.  He does what he can to receive such a blessing.

He has not told Gabriel his feelings.  If it didn’t work for Jack, it probably won’t for Gabe, and besides- he doesn’t want to cause any conflict between them.

Reyes has never confronted him about his conversation with Jack.  Jesse does not know what this means.

He tries his best to crush his hope, to keep his desires in check.)

He meets Morrison when they can.  They share some coffee and sometimes Jesse can convince Jack to eat a pastry or a bagel.  (It worries him, how little the commander seems to eat, how dark the circles are under his eyes.)  He tells him about missions, he tells him stories, he vents.   Jack listens, but he rarely talks about his own workload or his personal life.

Jesse doesn’t press him.

--

It’s a year later and he’s standing at the door of the office, two mugs in hand, about to announce himself.

He freezes in place.  He has never seen the commander cry, but here he is- face flushed, tears streaming, choking on sobs as his frame shudders.

He can’t think, so he acts.  He’s rushing forward, placing the mugs on the desk, and cautiously approaching the distraught man.  He starts whispering his name, hand hovering above Jack’s bicep, half-hesitant to make contact.

Jack turns, startled.  He frantically begins wiping at his eyes, the tears refusing to stop.  “J-Jesse.  Sorry, I must’ve forgotten about our meeting.”

“Jack, it’s okay.”  He finally works up the courage to rest his hands gently on the still trembling arms.  Jack does not move or protest, so he takes it that this is acceptable.  “What’s wrong?”

Morrison avoids his eyes, wipes at his face again.  “It’s nothing.  Nothing.”

“Jack, this doesn’t look like nothing.”  He hesitates.  “Listen, you don’t haveta tell me, but it ain’t good to bottle up so much emotion.  You should finish letting it out. I can stay, if you need, or if you’d rather I go, I can do that, too.”  He rubs an arm reassuringly.  “Just know I’m here for ya, if you need me.”

The tears are still coming, and Jack bites his lip.  After a pause, there’s a weakly whispered, “Stay, please?”

Jesse nods.  “Of course.  I’ll stay as long as you need.”  

He pulls the man towards him, embraces him lightly.  Jack’s head is resting on his shoulder.  He can feel the tears soaking through his shirt, the shuddering chest against his own, struggling for air between sobs.

He doesn’t know what to do or say, so he pulls him closer, begins a mantra of, “It’ll be Okay.”  He repeats it until the words lose meaning, until Jack is still against him, his face stained, but drying.

He continues to hold him.

--

This begins to happen more frequently, as the cracks begin to show.

--

He’s nearly 25 when he decides to leave.  He hates seeing the rise in corruption (barely veiled by this point), hates to think that he might soon find himself in another gang masquerading as an organization.

It also pains him to see Jack unraveling by the day, to watch his relationship with Gabriel crumbling.  There’s nothing he can do, and at this point, little comfort he can provide.

He sees a part of Jack dying when he delivers the news.  (Gabriel was easier.  Serious, somewhat stoic, but in a way,  gentle, supportive.)  He nods solemnly, gives his okay.  

Jesse wishes he can take him from this place, too.  Take Reyes away with them.  This place has destroyed the two of them, robbed them of their once brilliant light.

They deserve more.

He turns away.  There is nothing he can do for them.

--

He’s back in the states, drinking in a bar, when he hears the news.  There’s been a explosion back at the Swiss Base.  There don’t seem to be any survivors.

The images of Jack and Gabriel overtake his mind as he stares at the rubble on the screen.  He feels sick.

He calls the bartender over, orders another bottle of bourbon.

--

In the morning, he still remembers.  

--

No matter how much he drinks, he can’t forget them.  The voices fade with time, but the scenes still play out.

Sometimes when he shoots he can hear Gabriel’s voice, either a praise or a warning.  When he tries to form a strategy, he thinks of what his commander might have done.

Sometimes when he sits atop a train, the people in the train cars below him, munching on food and talking, he is transported back.  He remembers  Jack’s infectious laugh, his scowl when he drops a pastry and the jam stains his shirt.  (Jesse remembers holding back a laugh, going to wet a napkin, trying to help Jack while the man half-heartedly protests, telling him he doesn’t have to.  Jesse smiles, tells him it’s not a problem.  And it isn’t.  It allows him an ounce of the contact he craves.)  He remembers Jack cringing when he adds some whiskey to both of their drinks after a particularly rough day.  Jack protests, but drinks it anyway.

Sometimes McCree wonders if these memories are a curse or a blessing.  Overall, he tries not to dwell on them.

--

It’s a little over twelve years since he left when the call comes in.  

He’s tired of constantly running.  He wants to go back to the only place he could call home, even if the people he loved are no longer there.

It takes him awhile, but he returns.  There are few who have come back; still more left to find.

He lights a cigarillo and closes his eyes.

--

He’s still alive.

He feels too much and nothing at all.  Angela’s confession plays over and over in his head.

He stands in the shadows, looking out at two ghosts, knowing that a third is still out there.

Jack’s changed.  But so has McCree.  They’re both not exactly the same men they once were.

But under the rough exterior, McCree wants to believe that the essence of Jack still remains.

When Ana leaves to get more tea, he approaches, drops down by Soldier’s side with a, “Howdy,” and the tip of his hat.

Soldier doesn’t look, takes a sip of his drink.  “Angela told you.”  It’s more a statement than a question.

McCree is somewhat taken aback by how different the man’s voice sounds.  Deeper and rougher, the style more curt, less friendly and open.  “Yep.”

There’s silence.

“It’s good to have you back, Jack.”

He sees the hand tighten on the mug.  “That’s not my name.  I’m just a soldier now.”

‘You were never just a soldier.  Never to me.’  “Sorry,” he says.  He looks around for a second, then asks, “You down to see a movie?”

“I have work to do.  We have a mission coming up.”

He watches the man get up, joints a little stiff.  The mask covers his face, again.

McCree nods.  “Another time, then.”

He made it work back then; he can make it work again now.  It will just take time.

He can wait.