#the 'again' is so damning. sam is willing to return to a point of origin just to be in a toxic codependent relationship with his brother

[incesthemes]

the development here is so crazy. shadow is an episode about sam choosing his revenge (fate) over his family: when dean wants to "be a family again" sam shuts this down, saying he can't return to the way things were before. but in my time of dying shows sam repeating dean's words almost exactly: they were just starting to "be brothers again."

sam maintains a distance from dean throughout season 1 because he can't commit to him—revenge is too forefront in his mind, and dean is the opposition to sam's revenge. the more he pursues revenge, the farther he gets from dean. this is what azazel and meg want for him: they're leading him away from dean, deliberately so, and as they do that he gets closer to fulfilling his destiny.

it's not until devil's trap that sam chooses dean over his revenge once and for all, committing to his brother in a way that he hasn't been able to up until that point. he abandons his revenge and picks dean over his destiny and they achieve a deeper, more twisted and tangled-up relationship as a result.

and in the exact next episode, sam is quoting dean. it signifies that he's on the same page as dean now, or he's trying to be, and he's committed to the relationship they've developed over the fate he's supposed to be pursuing. it's a complete 180 flip from how he thought just 7 episodes earlier—their new relationship comes with new rules, and we see sam's definition of this relationship again across the next few episodes too, when he feels betrayed and abandoned because dean is keeping secrets from him and won't talk to him (compare to bloody mary, where he himself refuses to be honest with dean because "there are some things he needs to keep to himself").

in shadow he was adamant that he could never return to how they were before. in in my time of dying, he is begging dean to come back with him, reverse the clock and "be brothers again." it's character progression and development marked by codependency and unhealthy boundaries that will generate unbearable tension as they struggle to get on the same page with each other. it's an early glimpse of what being in a codependent relationship means to sam, what expectations he has and how he will conduct himself in this dynamic and how he expresses his devotion to his brother. it's such a fascinating emblem of his growth as he entwines himself into dean and latches on tight, never to let go again.

[rosalielesbianhale]

The human Jacob AU that no one asked for but I can’t  stop thinking about

° The books are the same up to the movie theatre with Mike and Jake (except there are no mentions of Sam’s “gang” because it isn’t a thing, Embry is still hanging out with Jacob and Quil, Jake isn’t afraid he’s next)

° Jacob and Bella have a little laugh at Mike’s expense but make sure he gets home safe.

° Jacob doesn’t get “mono” and drop off the face of the earth, he and Bella just keep getting closer.

° and so, Jacob is with her when she find the meadow and Laurent finds her

° in my version of events Laurent did not decide to suddenly side with Victoria because that makes absolutely no sense. He had no trouble ditching her and James in the first book and has supposedly found a partner in Irina who is friends with the Cullens so why would he be doing Victoria a favour and scouting the area?? make it make sense.

° no, instead, Victoria located him and started asking questions about the Cullens and he, trying to dissuade her from going against them, tells her what he’s learned about them since coming to stay with the Denalis. Alice’s visions, Edward’s mind reading, he lets it all slip in the ernest belief she’ll decide it isn’t worth going after Bella, after all evasion is her heightened power; she should cut her losses and run.

° after talking to Victoria, Laurent decides to warn the Cullens, he has a bad feeling after their talk and suspects she won’t give up so easily.

° he finds the house empty which is peculiar, they seemed so invested in this little human and who do you think he runs across in the meadow but that very human accompanied by a friend.

° he tells her about his talk with Victoria but there is a menacing undertone to everything he says. He is trying not to kill humans for Irena’s sake but as his eyes can attest to, he’s had some slip ups, and, really, she does smell delicious. If she is no longer under the Cullen’s protection then there would really be very little harm in draining her and there’s only one witness to take care off. It might even be a mercy because if Victoria gets her hands on her she would not make it quick, he’d do it as painlessly as possible.

° all of this is said aloud because the reader has no insight into Laurent’s mind otherwise and he seems like a person who’s inclined to give the occasional monologue

° he tells her to run, before he changes his mind

° meanwhile, Jacob is freaking the fuck out. As soon as they reach the road Bella guns it for her truck while Jacob just keeps up a continuous stream of “what the fuck. what the fuck. what the actual fuck. they’re actually fucking vampires? what the fuck. oh, god, dad was right. What The Fuck.”

° after that the whole story comes out, how Jacob was actually the person who helped her figure it out, how she had envisioned spending eternity with Edward and how, now that he’s gone, she hasn’t just been robbed of the person she loves but of what she had come to accept as her future. She has never been able to confide in anyone about the whole story so she tells him everything, right down to what actually happened when she got injured in Phoenix. It’s not like they’re coming back, it doesn’t matter if she tells Jacob.

° Jacob is understandably on overload, Bella drives him home and he says he needs some time.

° this is when Bella starts trying to reach Jacob but he’s unreachable. He’s processing a tremendous amount of information and needs some time away from the madness of Bella’s life.

° Bella starts to get restless. Jacob isn’t talking to her, she feels isolated and she needs to see Edward. She jumps off the cliff.

° I kind of want Sam to be the one who sees her jump and who fishes her out of the water tbh. He doesn’t have Charlie’s number so he calls Jacob’s house.

° Jacob promptly freaks out.

° he brings Bella home, Harry Clearwater has had a heart attack.

° Jacob is frightened for Bella after her jump but he also needs to be there for his dad right now and Seth is so young, Leah seems different after she lost her dad too. He needs to be there for them.

° There’s also the fact that the girl he’s in love with is in love with a vampire but staying away from Bella did not give him the clarity he’d hoped for. It’s still a mess.

° Alice arrives, she doesn’t need blind spots in her visions to go and knock some sense into Bella. Yes, she’s alive this time but she saw her voluntarily jump off a cliff into a raging ocean. Before she left she was a mess talking about how Bella tried to commit suicide and she had to go ensure she wouldn’t attempt it a second time.

° When Jacob rolls up to the house and sees Alice there it feels as though his insides have turned to ice. Are they all back? Is he losing Bella before he ever really got to tell her how he feels?

° Alice leaves to let Bella explain the situation. She tells him only Alice is back and why she came to visit.

° Jacob is a mess, this whole thing is a mess, but he’s left with the feeling that he had when he saw Alice was there. He needs to tell Bella how he feels.

° They have the almost kiss in the kitchen. Jacob is still dumb enough to answer the phone in someone else’s house, he still tells Edward that Charlie’s at the funeral.

° Alice returns, frantic. They have to leave for Volterra. However, Jacob doesn’t basically beg Bella to let Edward kill himself and stay with him. Once he understands that Bella is serious and Edward literally is going to try to get himself killed because he thinks Bella is dead he understands that the only way she can live with herself is if she tries everything she can to stop him from succeeding.

° Instead he is the voice of reason: “Bella, listen to me, Charlie is about to come home to an empty house after burying one of his best friends. He will be beside himself with worry and this note is bullshit, you’re a horrible liar. Tell him you’re staying with Alice tonight because you’re going to Seattle together in the morning, there’s a sale or some shit that she wants to drag you to. Tomorrow night you call him and tell him your car broke down, you have to stay in Seattle while they order the parts for you. It might be a few days. That’ll buy you some time.”

° “And call me when you land or, I don’t know, I might worry too.”

° It feels like tearing his own heart out but he lets her go. He doesn’t beg her to stay.

° The events at Volterra play out the same way they did but Charlie isn’t left to deal with the same amount of shit he was in the original.

° When they return Jacob comes to visit her, she fills him in and, let me tell you, he has a few things to say.

° “I can’t believe you’re just going to get back together with him. Bella he lied to you, manipulated you and left you. His sister can see the god damn future, if you think he didn’t know how this would affect you then you’re wrong. And he still did it. Maybe he’s telling you the truth and he did it because he thought it would be better for you in the long run but he made that decision without you. If you just take him back then you are essentially telling him that was an okay thing for him to do and it just wasn’t.”

° Jacob is so angry at the Cullens and really, what he’s saying isn’t wrong. The angrier he gets the more Bella can feel her own anger flaring to life, it had been buried under the sheer relief of finding Edward alive, the euphoria of being told that he still loves her. Now she feels indignant; how dare he just make this decision for her, how dare he not take into account her own feelings on the matter, how dare he prioritise his own concerns over hers, and how dare the entire family just go along with it. They all left her.

° She drives herself over to the Cullen’s house to have a talk with them. The vote stays the same, the “if you don't want me, then I'm not going to force myself on you, whether Alice is willing or not” part definitely stays in. However, Bella, after having taken the vote has a few choice words for all of them. “You all left me. I have spent months trying to learn to survive without you and it didn’t go all that well. I want to join you, I really do. But I don’t trust you anymore. You all made an enormous decision for me, without my say so. You’ve now made another decision that I was a part of and even though we don’t all agree, we all got a say. It’s going to take time for me to learn to trust you again, in the meantime all I have to say is this: you will never make a decision regarding me without my input again. Never.”

° She also talks to Alice separately, discounting Edward she feels the most hurt by the fact that she would have left her.

° Since Jacob is now the only person outside of the Cullens who she can actually talk to about her life, she tells him about her talk with them, including the vote.

° Jacob has an understandable freakout regarding the fact that Bella has definitively chosen to become a vampire. This is definitely not what he’d thought would happen after he and Bella had their last talk. And because he’s an impulsive teenager he brings Charlie the motorcycle, hoping that Bella will be grounded and get some distance from Edward and maybe even change her mind.

I have a lot of thoughts regarding the continuation of the series but it’s already a mammoth post so idk, i might do a separate post about Eclipse at some point.

[starrybouquet]

On Seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1

A note: I wrote a series of essays several weeks ago, when I was feeling particularly crappy. I'm not particularly proud of them--they're pretty dramatic--but they do explain several of my more personal fandom feelings. I know I don't always tend to be the best at explaining things on the spot, so I'm posting these with the hope that I can refer people to them the next time that happens.

Um, I mentioned they're a little dramatic. I'm really, really sorry about that. But hey, if I can't be dramatic on Tumblr, in fandom, where else is that gonna go?

But still - if you're feeling a little sensitive today, maybe you wanna skip this. Or not. Just a light warning. :)

This piece is on seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG1, but they aren't all Stargate-related. I'll be posting them in the next few days, hopefully.

To those of you who like s9-10: I have nothing against you. Some of you I know better, some less well. In general, though, I like you, you seem like fine people. This is not about you, I hold nothing against you for liking those seasons. In fact, I envy you. This is more a personal post about why I'm an idiot. If you want, feel free to scroll down past this. I won't be offended. I'd put it under the cut but I'm on mobile.

Okay. Why, hello, those of you willing to read this rant...

No matter how much I denounce and ignore it, I cannot get past the pain of seasons 9 and 10 of Stargate SG-1. I've never watched them in full. Seen a few episodes here and there.

I cannot, repeat, CANNOT stand the thought today. It hurts.

It's an old pain, and it's not just SG1. SG1 is just one of the highlights in a long line of books and shows that have repeatedly broken my heart by being SO GOOD and then taking an, uh, precipitous right turn, shall we say. Because a hard right seems too kind, and a precipitous drop too harsh.

I love SG1. I love love love it. I like the plots and I love the science, but what I really fell in love with was the characters.

I loved all of them. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: if Sam, Daniel, or Teal'c had been on any other show, I guarantee you they would have been my favorite by far. Jack is just so...Jack that he has to be my favorite. That's SG1 for you.

I've never had super close friends. I have good RL friends, don't get me wrong. They're nice people. But we don't have much in common.

That's okay. That's been my experience forever--really nice folks who maybe didn't always get me or have anything to say to me, but were good, decent people.

And this is good. Really, it is. It's just that SG-1, for me, has always represented the promise that there *are* people out there that are your true friends, and you will do brave and brilliant things with them. It will happen.

It's naive, I know. But I haven't been able to let it go. Maybe someday. But not right now.

Which brings me to s9-10 of SG1. It hurts.

It hurts that SG1 scattered to the wind.

It hurts that they sent Jack away from a place where he was happy, where he'd found friends and meaning in life again, away to fucking DC. To be...what? A politician? I could write a whole post just about this. Actually, I have. I could still write more posts about it!

It hurts that Sam went to Area 51, and nobody seemed to mind, the 'Gate didn't spontaneously combust as we were always led to believe it would.

It hurts that Daniel's personality supposedly changed that much, in the absence of his friends. Though some of his lines are funny, they aren't the earnest, idealistic, thoughtful Daniel I fell in love with. I get the idea that new-look Daniel would roll his eyes at s3-8 Daniel, and beat up floppy hair Daniel. And floppy hair Daniel is my baby and anyone who doesn't appreciate his brilliance can face my wrath. That includes you, buff s9-10 Daniel, and also whoever decided/approved that change in characterization.

Really, the only one who doesn't hurt is Teal'c. Because it feels like he's moving forward, toward happiness.

So...here we are. Season 9. Mitchell, Landry.

I often say I hate Mitchell. Do I resent him for replacing Jack? Yes. I do. We can talk about plot reasons and all that, but at the end of the day, I was going to hate anyone who tried to be Jack.

This is true in real life, too. You can't try to be anyone else. You've gotta walk your own path.

Now, people say that I didn't give Mitchell a chance. I say that the way he was portrayed, in the few episodes I've seen, tells me enough.

I can think of lots of ways Mitchell could have been interesting. How would Daniel and Teal'c react to an old, actually bad tempered (not Jack bad tempered, actually bad tempered) hardass after eight years of their best friends leading them? Or--start with his actual character. Mitchell, he hasn't been at the SGC. Wouldn't he get some flack from the longtime team leaders of SGs 2-5ish? They'd be insulted, right?

Or we could've gotten a nice Daniel Teal'c episode arc and then we could've had one Samantha Carter as team leader, though we won't get into that.

Bringing me to my next point. Co-leads?? Seriously?? You're trying too hard, folks. Telling me Sam used to know Mitchell does not actually make me like him.

Same thing with Landry. Unlike Mitchell, I guess I don't really have an opinion on Landry. He's just....there? No character development for this man.

Anyway, back to the team.

One of the things I love about SG1 is how the humor and friendship was so damn natural. Other than a few episodes (Urgo comes to mind), the plots weren't intentionally humorous. They were campy sci-fi plots sometimes, sure. They were funny because Jack was funny, yeah. They were lower budget than some other sci-fi. But they were as serious as sci-fi gets. It was how the characters reacted that made it funny.

Similarly, we were never told SG1 were found family. We just Knew. Because of the way they acted with each other. Because of the way Jack would "order" them to do things.

And hey, by the way, they weren't always family. Sam used to be less willing to ignore Jack. Daniel used to be less willing to trust Teal'c. Jack used to be a little more stern.

So...they meshed together. Like all found families do.

Every time I see a photo of new-look SG1 in seasons 9 and 10, I can't help but feel that they're trying too hard. I don't get the family feel because they aren't a family, damn it. It doesn't matter how many times you *tell* me they're super close. One of the reasons the original team got so close is because they all needed each other. Jack was depressed, Daniel was grieving, Sam was alone and had lost her mom and wasn't speaking with her dad and had never opened up to anyone in her life, Teal'c was an alien fighting for freedom after spending 100 years essentially as a slave.

And partly because of that, by season 9? Daniel and Teal'c (and Sam, when she comes back) don't need a family the way they used to. They have each other. They have Jack, or at least they *should*. *Glares in angry at Jack in DC vibes*

So...they simply don't have the relationship with Mitchell they do with each other.

It'd be different if Mitchell needed a family. It's not that SG1 hasn't added people before--I think Jonas is a perfect example of this. He wasn't Daniel, and that always hurt. But he was young, and naive, and innocent, and he needed SG1 because he'd left everything he'd ever known.

And that worked.

Without needing family, Mitchell is just a coworker. He can be a friendly coworker. A friend. But if he wanted to become better friends, family, he needed to show depth and vulnerability. He needed to need SG1.

And he never does, from what I've seen and heard about and read about. Or if he does need SG1, he doesn't need them badly enough to show more than an occasional bout of thoughtfulness before returning to his normal pale-Jack-imitation ways.

Now, I don't know why that is. I lean toward bad writing. I haven't watched Farscape (it's on my to watch list) but it seems like Ben Browder is a fine actor.

So, seasons 9 and 10 are probably fine TV. I'm never going to watch them through, so don't ask. I've tried and failed and every time it just tears my heart a little more and I'm won't be doing it again.

Those seasons...they just lost everything I watch SG-1 for, and so...yeah. I feel the hate strongly. Not because they're bad--I think they're different, not necessarily bad. My hate is only because in creating those seasons, they tore down the parts of SG1 that I loved most.

So s9-10 show me a few nice hugs and laughs? That's nice. I like comedies, I do. However...that's not my Stargate. Not the one I love. I liked the sarcastic one, the one full of wonder, the one where they had to scrape and claw their way through the galaxy with naivety and courage and brilliance. The one where they ate together, fought together, died together, were resurrected together.

It hurts, man. It hurts when the things I love turn into something that's lukewarm. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

That's why we have fanfic. And, with any luck, I'll actually start that AU I've been talking about.

It's fanfic, and so it'll be my Stargate. The ending I wanted--which really wasn't an ending at all, more of a closure of one chapter of the story.

Damn, did that turn dramatic. Um, sorry about that, and also sorry for spilling my feelings all over you guys. Thanks for reading, if you got to the end of this.

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter Fourteen

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4440

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: canon typical violence

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Masterlist

We escaped quickly and descended down into the dark, damp sewer system of D.C. until we came to a steel ladder directly in the middle of our path several minutes later. Maria climbed up first, to make sure the coast was clear then she signaled for us to follow. There was an SUV waiting for us a few paces away from where we had emerged. I slowly trailed behind the others and into one of the back seats. The drive to the base, which seemed to be a rundown dam in the middle of the woods, took us almost half an hour.

After getting out the van we rushed in through a singular gated door at the base of the dam. Nat was still losing blood but the first aid kit in the van helped slow it down. As we walked down the dimly lit hall I spotted a man running towards us.

“GSW,” Maria shouted out to the man. “She’s lost almost a pint of blood.”

“Let me take her,” the man shouted back, still jogging to us.

“She’ll want to see him first,” she said before we reached a set of double doors and hurried through them. Maria led us down a long corridor which opened up to a large room with a section closed off with plastic strip curtains. She reached out and pulled part of the curtain back to let us see inside. There lying down in a hospital bed was Nick Fury, who was supposed to be dead.

“Well, it’s about damn time.” Fury stated in a sarcastic tone. I looked to Steve, Who was holding Nat up, and gave him a quizzical look, which he returned with his own shake of the head.

After the initial shock of seeing Fury alive, Nat was sat down by the doctor who was trying to stop her arm from bleeding. In the meanwhile, Fury was explaining to the group how he was able to fake his death and why he was hunkering out in a dam. This plan also helped him to know which people he could have some trust in, seeing as how SHIELD was now compromised and there was no telling how far the clutches of HYDRA had gotten. Now that people thought he was dead, it would come as a surprise when he inevitably resurfaced.

When Nat’s stitches were done we headed to a table on the other side of the room which had several files and computers scattered about. I took a seat on the far end and put my head in my hands. I could feel a massive headache coming on, which was uncommon for me since I took the serum. It felt like white-hot knives were digging through the back of my skull and into the spot right between my eyes. It was so bad that I completely missed the whole conversation the group was having. I eventually laid my head down in my crossed arms to try and combat it, but the pain never subsided.

A hand came down on my shoulder, startling me out of my painful daze, it was Steve. I saw his mouth move but couldn’t hear anything but the loud ringing in my ears. I just looked at him confused. He tried saying something again but I still couldn't hear him.

“Stevie, I can’t hear anything over this loud ringing in my ears,” I whispered, I knew if I talked loudly the vibrations of my voice would hurt. He gave me a nod and held up his finger, telling me to wait as he walked away. The doctor from before came back with him and sat in front of me. The doctor motioned his hand like it was talking and I knew he wanted me to tell him what was going on, so I did. When I was done, he took a small flashlight out from his pocket and shined it in my eyes. He turned to Steve and said something then turned to me and grabbed hold of my hand.

Both the doctor and Steve led me to a second hospital bed, which was a couple feet away from where Fury had been and made me lay down. As I got situated under the covers, Steve tapped my hand a few times to get my attention and when he got it, he started to tap again. Morse code, he had made me learn it as kids, that way mom could never hear our secret conversations, it even came in handy when I joined the SSR. I watched closely as he tapped out a series of long and short patterns. He was telling me the doctor was going to give me something to help me sleep and that I would be okay. I nodded and tapped back a thank you before the Doctor came back and inserted a syringe into my arm, seconds later I could feel myself drifting away.

I woke up hours later without the searing pain of a headache and my hearing fully intact. I flipped the covers away from myself and turned to let my legs drape off the side of the bed. I hulled myself onto my feet and began to make my way to the table the group was setting at yesterday. Sam was there drinking coffee and talking to Nat, and from what I could tell, it must have been early morning.

“Good morning sleepy head.” Sam sang out. I gave him a small smile as I took the seat to his right, across from Nat. “How ya feeling?”

“Eh. I’m not in physical pain anymore if that’s what you’re asking.” I looked down at my hands and eyed the ring I had been wearing since a few days ago. It glimmered in the light as I took it off and placed it on the table. I then took my locket necklace off and slipped the ring onto the chain. I was lucky I hadn't lost it yesterday, but I wasn’t thinking I would be going into a fight. Now that I knew more fighting was to come, it would be safer around my neck.

“Is that your engagement ring?” Sam asked quietly.

“Yeah. It was Bucky’s mother, Winnifred. He originally proposed with this locket, but a few months later, after talking to her and begging her to keep it a secret from Steve, she finally gave it to him.” I smiled at the memory.

“Wait, I thought Steve knew.”

“He does now. I kind of blurted it out when he tried to stop me from going with him to rescue the 107th from the HYDRA base in 1943, but we got engaged in ‘41.” I took a long pause before talking again. “You know it feels like just yesterday when I lost him, like the pain from him being gone still hurts, but I’ve learned to cope with it over the past two years. Now I have to find out that he is alive, but not himself because he's being used as a mercenary by HYDRA. He looked at me after you knocked him down and that look broke my heart. It wasn’t the look of a man wanting to kill, it was of someone who was scared, someone who had no clue what was going on. He’s still in there, I know he is and I’m going to be the one to bring him back.” I jammed a finger down on the table to make my point.

“Are you sure he’s really still in there? He’s been in and out of cryo hundreds of times throughout the last 70 years, no to mention, he’s probably endured countless hours of brain wiping and torture from HYDRA.” Nat said in a concerned but doubtful tone.

“I didn’t lose hope when he might have been dead in the forties, I won't lose hope in him now. I’ll find a way to bring him back to me.” That was when Steve came through the double doors and into the room wearing his old suit. “Steve, where in the world did you get that?”

“I borrowed it from the Smithsonian. Here, I found your office. Thought you might want it.” He tossed a bag at me and I caught it, slowly opening it to reveal my old suit. “I still have no clue why you keep it in there and not on display with everything else.”

“Thanks, that was very thoughtful of you.”

“Don’t be sarcastic. You’re gonna want it when we go to take out the helicarriers.” He looked at me then to the other two, “Come on suit up, we don't have much time before they launch,” he looked back at me, “I’ll fill you in on the plan after you get dressed. Oh and Maria has your staff, and new guns for you.”

It was almost noon now and Steve, Sam, Maria, and I were quickly ascending the back stairs of the SHIELD base. We made it to the thirty-second floor in no time, only for the door to be locked. We all held our guns up to the door as Maria sent out some radio interference so one of the people in the room would come to check on the dish that was outside. When the door opened the man was surprised and instantly let us through

Steve came to a stop at the PA system and turned it on. “Attention all SHIELD agents, this is Steve Rogers. You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time, to tell the truth. SHIELD is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by HYDRA. Alexander Pierce is their leader. The STRIKE and Insight crew are HYDRA as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury. And it won't end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, HYDRA will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not.”

“Always been one for speech haven't you Stevie?” I joked.

“Shut up kid, let's get going.” he shook his head, bemused.

“He totally came up with that on the spot didn’t he?” Sam asked.

“Definitely,” I replied.

We left Maria in the PA room where she would be able to monitor the status of the helicarriers as we tried to take them offline. Making our way down to the docking bay I looked out one of the windows next to where we were running.

“Steve, we need to hurry, the bay doors are opening,” I called out.

“Only a few more floors, we can make it.” After he said that, we started running faster, almost leaving Sam behind.

Finally, we pushed through one of the lower roof doors. I started to sprint toward the edge and before I jumped off, Sam grabbed my outstretched arm and started to fly. He maneuvered us to the far-right helicarrier and then let go of me. I plummeted to the deck and as I made contact with the ground I immediately threw myself into a tumble so I didn’t get hurt. As I sprang to my feet I was met with an onslaught of bullets. Ducking to dodge them I ran off to the side where a stack of crates was lying. I fished one of the guns from the hustler and cocked a bullet into the chamber. Taking a deep breath I stepped out from my cover and shot back at the men.

Two of the seven went down as a bullet went through each of their chests. I went to shoot again but a hand came out from behind me and yanked my right arm down. They tightly brought my arm to my back and grabbed my gun with the other hand. With my free left arm, I swung it back and clipped the person in the chin hard with my elbow. The grip they had on my right arm fell away as they fell to the ground. I turned around and quickly grabbed my gun from his hand and resumed shooting at the others.

I reached to the back of my holster where I had clipped two grenades before we had left the hideout. Pulling the pin and letting go of the trigger, I threw it at the men, who were immediately taken out with the blast.

“Hey kid you good?” I heard Steve's voice come through the comlink.

“Good as I can be. The deck is all clear, where are you?”

“Sam and I are inbound.” as he said that Sam shot up from below the carrier with Steve holding onto his hands. They landed a few feet in front of me and I jogged to catch up to them. “Wow, you took them all out really fast.”

I just smiled and held up the second grenade, “Work smarter not harder. Come on let's hurry up, the fact there weren't that many people on here is making me suspicious.” As soon as I said that we walked past one of the crates and Steve was pushed over the edge of the carrier by Bucky. “Steve!” Sam and I yelled simultaneously.

Sam jumped into action, trying to take off to save Steve from falling to his death, but Bucky grabbed one of the wings of his suit and flung him back. “Go put the chip in, I'll take care of this.” He yelled out to me.

I turned and sprinted to one of the doors that led into the carrier and I was met with two corridors. After looking down at each of them I decided on taking the right one. Reaching the end I heard a soft noise around the corner, I peaked around slowly and saw a man carrying an assault rifle. He was close enough for me to run up on him without him being able to get a good shot in with a gun. So that’s what I did. I ran at an angle from the corner and used my left leg to push myself off the ground and then my right to push off the wall and kick the man directly in the side of the head. He fell to the ground, completely unconscious. Not turning back I continued down the hall until I came to the stairs that would take me down to the systems room.

“Are you both okay?” Sam cut through on the coms.

“Yeah, I'm still on the helicarrier.” came Steve.

“Me too, I’m almost in the systems room. Where are you?”

“I'm grounded, the wings are busted.”

I exited the staircase and walked to the middle of the systems room. The opening to the targeting system was on the other side of the large cylindrical computer that took up the whole center of the room. I made my way around but stopped short when I saw him standing there, glaring.

“Bucky,” I held my hands up and took my finger off the trigger of my gun to show him I wasn’t going to do anything. “Bucky, I know you’re in there somewhere.” He just kept staring blankly. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will in order to get this chip where it needs to be.” I took a slow step in his direction, but in an instant, he pulled his gun and shot mine out of my hand, and started to stalk towards me. I reached over my shoulders to grab the two separated staff pieces from their holsters as I moved backward. Bucky stopped walking and just started some more before he came at me full force. I quickly stepped up onto the railing and did a flip over him, landing behind him. Before he turned around I slipped the piece of the staff in my right hand around his neck and latched on with my left, forcing him to stumble back. This didn’t hold him long because he grabbed the bar and forcefully twisted it over his head, thus breaking my grip. I stumbled a few feet ahead, almost barely missing the punch that he threw. That was when I noticed Steve had made it into the room.

“Steve, a little help here would be great,” I said as I started to run back to Bucky who had turned around to face Steve. I jumped up doing a backflip kick, using Bucky’s back as a kicking-off point and landed back on my feet as Bucky slammed into the railing. Hoping he would stay preoccupied with Steve, I hurriedly ran to the system console and opened the chip holder. I took out one of the chips and placed it off to the side before reaching into my pocket for the new chip. I had almost put it in the open slot before I was knocked off my feet and the chip flew from my hand and over the banister. I turned over off of my stomach just in time to see Steve and Bucky also fall over the banister. I scrambled to the edge to see what was going on as I called out, “Steve the chip fell over.”

“I got it, stay there.” He yelled back before Bucky sent him flying. I watched as he grabbed the chip but it was dropped further down as Bucky came at Steve again. I took my second gun out and started to shoot near Bucky’s legs, in order to try and veer him off course without hurting him. Steve reached the glass bottom of the room and started sprinting to the chip which was nestled in between the glass and a metal beam. I stopped shooting as it became harder to get a clear target without also shooting Steve.

They were fighting now, hand to hand, Bucky had knocked Steve’s shield away and he pulled his knife out in the process. He stabbed Steve in the shoulder, when he fell to the ground Bucky dove for the chip. Steve wasn't far behind him, He latched onto Bucky, choking him then throwing him to the ground.

“Steve, don't hurt him,” I cried out as I watched them struggle on the ground, my hands went straight to my mouth as I heard the loud sound of bone breaking and Bucky’s scream right after. He tried rolling over but that gave Steve an opening to put him in a chokehold. “Steve stop, that's enough, you’re hurting him,” I yelled out in despair as I watched bucky struggle to stay conscious, I couldn't watch it anymore, I turned away. Seconds later Steve yelled my name. I hesitantly looked back over the railing, Bucky was lying unconscious and Steve was jumping up onto the landing under me.

“Here”, he tossed the chip up to me and I caught it. Suddenly a gunshot rang out and I looked to where Bucky was once laying, he was standing now, gun raised.

“Thirty seconds” Maria’s voice came over the com.

“I've got it,” I spoke back, making my way to the control board.

Another shot rang out, this time I heard the impact right behind me before a pain erupted on my side. I turned to see Steve laid out on the ground clutching his stomach, the bullet must have gone straight through him to me.

“Guys, they're going online right now, hurry!” Maria almost yelled into the com. I turned back around, holding my side and took the last few steps up to the console, and securely placed the chip in the open space.

“Charlie lock,” I huffed out, confirming to Maria that I had successfully put the chip in, as I slid to my knees.

“Okay, both of you get out of there.”

“No fire now,” Steve yelled.

“But Steve,” Maria said almost reluctantly.

“Just do it,” he yelled again.

The helicarrier jerked seconds later after being hit with the rockets. I slammed into the railing and was flung over, landing ungracefully in a heap on the glass floor. I could hear shouts of pain echoing, looking around I spotted Bucky stuck under a massive metal beam. Steve apparently had to because he was climbing down to him. He got to him quickly and started to lift the heavy thing off of him. Bucky wiggled out from under the beam and knelt there for a second before Steve said something to him that I couldn't hear, he reared back and swung a punch at him after that. I stood to my feet and slowly made my way to them, stopping multiple times to steady myself as the carrier trembled violently. I reached them just as a large metal cylinder fell into the glass floor, making it give way. I fell through the broken glass and into the cold water of the Potomac River.

I swam weakly to the surface. Once my head came out of the water I took a deep breath in and made my way to the rocky shore, careful to not be hit by any debris. The shore was farther away than I had anticipated and I was almost completely out of breath as I crawled my way out of the water. Laying on my back I looked and the smoke filled the sky.

‘So much for laying low,' I thought to myself. I was broken from my thoughts as a few yards down the shoreline Bucky came out of the water dragging Steve with him. He looked back at me as he dropped Steve to the ground but then turned to walk away. I got up quickly and ran to Steve, making sure he was okay. I took out the tracker Maria had given each of us in case anything happened and set it off. They would come find him now, I gave him a short kiss on the forehead. “Goodbye Stevie, I'll see you again some time,” I whispered to him before taking off my tracker and throwing it into the water.

I started walking in the direction Bucky had gone, He couldn't have gotten far with that broken arm and I was right. I found him slowly making his way through the woods. I stayed away from him, but he never left my sight. I knew he realized I had followed him when he tried to slip away behind a group of dense trees but was unsuccessful. He tried this a few more times before giving up and acknowledging that I wasn’t going anywhere. Finally, we broke out into part of the city, but we kept a low profile, or as low of one as two people in fighting suits and a man with a metal arm could. I kept inching closer to him as we walked and twenty minutes in I was almost next to him.

“Quit following me” He let out gruffly without looking back at me.

“No,” I argued.

“Quit following me, now,” He said a little more agitatedly.

“No, I won’t. I’m not leaving you alone and hurting Bucky. I love you, I can't leave you again.” That made him stop in his tracks and eye me down.

“Don’t know who you are.” his voice sounded uncertain.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.

“I have proof that you do.” I yanked the necklace with the ring and locket over my head and marched to him, holding it out. He took it hesitantly and looked at the ring first then opening the locket he just stared at the picture of the both of us together. I saw something flicker in his eyes before he gave the necklace back, it almost looked like he remembered something. He started back walking but didn’t say a word when I kept following, just let out a long huff.

It took us an hour to reach Ronald Reagan Airport, and I finally understood what his plan was. “So your plan is to hijack a plane?”

“You aren’t coming.”

“I don’t know why you want to argue with me, I’m coming with you.” He gave me another glare after that.

We were walking through the small wooded area across the road from the runway when suddenly Bucky stopped. There was a small metal sign secured to one of the trees to the right, in big bold letters it said ‘NO TRESPASSING’. Bucky pulled on it and it opened like a small door into the tree where a keypad was nestled. He typed in a series of numbers and a few seconds later the ground started to move several right next to us. I jerked my head in the direction of the commotion only to see the ground opening up to a narrow staircase that descended into the earth. Bucky then closed the sign and started down the stairs, I followed suit.

It became darker the further we descended, the sounds of cars faded into the steady dripping of water. By this time I was thinking to myself that we weren't hijacking a plane, but I was proved wrong as the stairs leveled out to flat ground and Bucky turned the hanger lights on. There in the middle of the room was a black jet with a red HYDRA symbol on its side.

Looking around the room there were papers strewn about, dust even covered some of the desks along the walls. The place looked like it hadn't been used in years. To my left, I spotted Bucky grabbing all sorts of weapons from a rack on the wall and shoving them in a tattered duffel bag before zipping it up and heading to the jet. I trailed behind him.

He raised his hand up and pressed on part of the back flap to the jet, a small handle shot out and he pulled on it, which opened the back hatch of the jet. When it settled on the ground Bucky and I climbed up the ramp and into the cabin. Bucky tossed the duffel bag onto one of the benches and headed for the cockpit. He hit several buttons and switches before sitting down in the pilot's seat.

“Where are we going?” I asked softly as I sat myself down in the copilot’s seat.

“Romania.”

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila @andy-is-gay

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

The thing that will always bother me is that if the Lost Boys had maybe been thirty minutes longer and had included maybe just one (1) more female character, it could've been a perfect tie-in to Joel's idea about a Lost Girls movie. Aka this is how I would've written the Lost Boys and the Lost Girls.

Fucking think about it. This is the set up:

In the first movie, her reveal was a surprise just like Max's, as due to the Frogs either brushing her off and/or them counting her as safe when Max is deemed safe.

She could have a budding friendship with Sam, similar to the boys and Michael, and could've meant to act as the one that would indoctrine Sam. Because of this, they think she's being manipulated by the boys/is the next to be turned into a half. This means we also get a couple of scenes that are just her and Sam, and perhaps she shows him a hideout of her own at the other end of the cliffs.

I also think it would be really cool if they used her character like a spy, and she has a scene where she very subtly digs to see what Michael really thinks of the boys/Star and to see how much Sam and the Frogs know

She could also be used to stress how Max treats the boys like shit via Max treating her better than them but also giving an explanation as to why he may hate them (he's a traditional man and he doesn't want those boys around his daughter (this is pre-realization that Max is a dad to all of them)). Also, Max could stress how important it is for a girl to have a mother, and maybe we can get a couple of small, cute scenes between her and Lucy (and freaking pass the bechtel test)

The Frogs and Sam are so excited to tell her that she's free when she, Max, and Lucy arrive at the house. They're practically bouncing and they see that she looks absolutely horrified- but the Frogs make a comment about how perhaps such a grisly sight may be too much "for a girl" to try to explain it away.

Max comes back into the room, and before going on his "my boys misbehaved" speech he tells her to go upstairs, and to take Laddie with her- i.e. the first clue that perhaps Max wasn't what they thought

The fight goes as normal- but the endings lengthened and when Laddie says "Star!" It's replaced by an opposite reaction of Star fearfully realizing that Laddie is still upstairs- and with her.

They all run upstairs, finding her holding Laddie like a shield. She's been crying, and she still is as she tells all of them to back away- and also reveals her vampire face. We can have some tearful dialogue about how they killed her family, how she saw Dwayne's jaguar, can smell Paul all over the bathroom, etc. She tries to manipulate Sam one last time when the Frogs threaten her and it's along the lines of, "C'mon, Sam. We're friends. We were going to be family." And she bolts out the window the second Sam softens.

Sam knows where she's heading, and they find her at her spot on top of the cliffs. But when they get there she doesn't seem as willing to fight as before. This is when the Lucy scenes pay off, and Lucy insists to talk to her before they do anything "irrational". She sobs to Lucy about how they took everyone away from her, about how her biggest fear was always being alone, and how, even though she knew it was wrong, she was excited to have a mother like Lucy- and brothers like Michael and Sam. The Frogs at one point make a comment about how she'll see her entire family in hell, and instead of reacting with anger it shows her smiling at the thought. She then says that she just wants to "see her boys" and that she plans on staying at the cliffs until sunrise. While the Frogs don't buy it, Lucy insists that they leave her be. Grandpa is wary, as he's lived in Santa Carla for a long time, and the two of them share a long look. When Grandpa finally decides to back off, claiming "let's not make her change her mind", it's set that they're going to let her go out how she'd like to go out.

Grandpa still gets to say his iconic like at the end, but it's while driving the car back to the house.

It's revealed in an after-credit scene that the female vamp proceeded to wipe her eyes and shake her head the second they had driven away- revealing that everything had been an act. It ends with her lighting a cigarette and claiming that she "better find shelter" before laughing

Now, for the pay off:

The second movie takes place in a different town, a few years later. It starts with the Frogs and new face, and it shows them hunting what we can only assume to be vampires. The new face dies, and, after the vampire escapes, we see them call another familiar face- Sam Emerson. In the call, it's revealed who they've been hunting and who has been playing cat and mouse with them- the female vamp from the first movie. The Frogs practically beg Sam to come help them, as he's the only one that really knows what she's like (and who's the best with a bow). The movie truly kicks off when Sam decides to help them, and, to the Frogs surprise, brings Michael as well. But he swears that he isn't here to fight- just to make sure Sam doesn't get himself killed

The second movie shows the Awesome Monster Bashers- in their early twenties, fully human, and tighter than ever. It's revealed that the Emerson's moved away again, but that the Frogs and Sam never stopped being friends. Michael and Sam both went into hunting, and we're apprentices under their grandpa. However, both of them recently retired when Star decided she wanted to settle down, and because Lucy asked them to.

It takes place in a new seaside beach town higher up the coast, this one with an avid music scene. The Frogs fill Sam in on the female vamps course over the past couple of years, declaring that she seems to be sticking to the coast, but that it's nearly impossible to predict where she'll pop up until she's about to move again.

The Frogs also remark that no matter the opportunity, she never kills either one of them. She'll injure them or kill one of their partners, sure, but she never goes after them. And, it seems that she didn't stay by herself for long

We then meet the Lost Girls, a group of five grunge-punk rockers to fit the 90s aesthetic. With the female vamp from the first movie leading them. We see that this group of girls seem to busy themselves by terrorizing the locals and playing underground shows where they can- explaining why they seem to pop up out of nowhere. Because of this, the audience still gets some killer soundtrack bops, this time played by the vampires themselves.

We watch the girls try to bring in a new girl, and we watch a similar cycle as to what happened to Michael- instead though, the female vamp tells her upfront what they are. Only, she just thinks this is their gimmick since they're musicians and drinks from the bottle anyways.

She goes through her transformation with her own version of hazing, Michael and Sam try to help the girl, the girl tells them when their next show is- yadda yadda. The three monster bashers plus Michael show up to the show and there's a mini-battle that takes place. It's revealed that the female vamp has been waiting for Sam- and, more importantly, Michael. She explains that she couldn't have gotten Sam to come to her without the Frogs, and that she never could've gotten Michael without Sam.

Finally, for the big reveal, we go with the original ending for David who- like Joel planned- is not dead! He instead fills the role Max had in the first movie and has become the head vampire, with the female vamp now acting as the decoy head vamp that David was in the first film. Similarly to Max, David reveals that he just wanted Michael all along and also reveals that the two of them have been obsessing over either finishing what Max planned or getting revenge for the past couple of years. The female vamp/her remaining girls go after the monster bashers and the half-vamp girl while David and Michael fight yet again- this time as a retired hunter vs a vampire.

Because this is a lost boys sequel, the vampires lose. Michael stakes David, returning the half-vamp girl back to normal, and he makes a point of bringing up how he's "going to do it right this time".

Once again, when the female vamp realizes that the Frogs/Emerson's are getting the upper-hand, she attempts to flee after managing to severely injure one of the Frogs. However, we get poetic justice when she pulls back the curtains covering the windows of the venue and we see that it is day-time outside. She dies via sunlight exposure aka how she said she would die in the first movie.

The movie ends with the previous half-vamp girl asking them if they do this often. As they leave the venue, the boys give various answers which basically tally up to "oh, all the time". Sam then makes a callback to grandpa's signature line stating, "One thing I could never stand about being a hunter-" which all of the boys finish the line with "all the damn vampires." All the boys laugh and the new girl asks, "Is this an inside joke or something?" And then bam- roll credits.

[ufuckingpastry]

What Remained in Pandora’s Box

AO3 Link

Disclaimer:  This fic is based on the roleplay characters, not the content creators. None of the views or opinions explored in the fic reflect the content creators.

Chapter 1: Godkiller

Dream spat blood onto the obsidian, his shoulders heaving as he tried to breathe through the pain. Quackity watched him, perched on top of the cauldron. He idly wiped at the edge of the glimmering axe. The scar over his eye stretched grotesquely as he grinned. Dream wanted to rip that grin off his face and wished he had the claws to do so. His nails were dulled and bloody from scrabbling at the obsidian, sometimes to feel something, sometimes to escape the honed edge of Quackity’s blade.

“You know,” Quackity’s came through clear, bouncing against the obsidian and deafening in his ears. He lifted his gaze to glare daggers at him, hoping beyond hope they could slice more scars into his face. “I’m getting tired of this game, Dream. The stakes aren’t high enough anymore. The deals feel lackluster at best. And you.” The man glared, frowned his barely contained rage at him. He huffed out a breath and regained his grinning composure. “You’re better at this game than I expected.”

“I’m not giving you the book, Quackity. None of your deals are worth my time. Come back when you have something that I actually want.” Instead of spitting at him or shouting more curses, Quackity’s gaze flickered to the side and. He considered the floor below him.

“Something you… want?” he asked, careful, soft. Dream braced for whatever torture he held in his hands next. The soft voice always, always meant pain. It always meant the worst of what Quackity had to offer. Whatever he was planning, whatever he would do next, Dream hoped he would survive it (or hoped this time the end would come quick). “I’ve been thinking about that, Dream. What else I can do to you. What next torture Sam would let me bring in.” He laughed, gruesome and grinning. “You’ve nearly exhausted me, Dream! I have plans all over my walls of what I was going to do!” Quackity jumped off the cauldron and stepped forward.

“Every single plan I made for you, we’ve done! Every single thing I wanted to do to you, all but one—which Sam doesn’t have the backbone for. And Sam, poor Sam. Unable to stop another person from dying in this cell. I think he almost regrets it. Regrets letting anyone else get close to you.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned forward, the edge of the axe a gentle threat to Dream’s throat. “I even think he regrets letting me in now. This has been going on for too long, Dream. Something’s gotta give.”

“If you think it’s going to be me, guess again,” Dream snarled.

“I’ll make one more deal with you, Dream. And I know this is something you want. Something you want so desperately.” Dream waited. He waited for what Quackity had in store. He waited to know what deal Quackity was going to offer now. The only thing he wanted, wanted most in the world, was—

“Give me the book and I’ll let you go.”

Dream felt the floor drop out from under him, his breath gone out of him in a gasp. Quackity was no longer grinning. He watched. He waited.

“Sam wouldn’t let you,” Dream said in return.

“Sam? Sam’s losing himself more each passing day. First, he loses Tommy in this cell. Then poor old Ghostbur. And now, he’s losing himself. You should see the way he walks the halls. Did you know he took Ponk’s arm? And I know for a fact he regrets it every single hour. All that regret can’t be good for him. And, you know, I care for the guy. I care about him. I don’t want to see him in pain.”

“And yet you’re fine torturing me every day?”

“Dream, the thing about that is: I don’t care about you. I don’t give a damn if anyone on this server does. I don’t. I don’t give a shit. So, yeah. I’m gonna keep coming in here every single damn day, until you give me what I do care about. I care about the book. And Sam? Don’t worry about him. If it puts his mind at rest, I can convince him to do anything I want.”

Dream eyed Quackity, his chest heaving. His breath felt like knives ripping through his lungs. His hands shook uncontrollable. There was nothing he could do to still them and nothing he could do to stop Quackity from coming back over and over again. Except…

“You promise?” he asked softly, a faint glimmer of hope blooming in his chest. Quackity hummed, waiting for him to continue. “You promise that if I give you the book, you’ll let me out? That Sam will let me out?”

“Yeah. I’m only here for the book, Dream. And if letting you go is what gets me it, then I’ll do what I can.”

“The others won’t like that I’ve been set free.”

“Well,” Quackity said with a shrug of his shoulders. “That sounds like a you problem.” Dream hunched his shoulders. Of course, his promise would only extend to getting him out of the prison. Not anything further. Where could he go, though? He chewed his already raw lips, tonguing the scarred flesh. Maybe Techno would let him stay. He could tease him about being homeless again.

“So?” Quackity asked. “Deal?”

Dream’s gaze flicked up at him, studying his face. If… if he did this, there would be no turning back. There was also the possibility Quackity was tricking him. And if he lost the one thing keeping him alive, the one thing the rest of the server saved him for… for what reason would he have to keep existing? Unless… No, Quackity was smart. He’d see through a fake book. Assuming he had seen the original. He had, didn’t he? Otherwise, why would he know of it? Schlatt must’ve let him take a look at it once. Not enough to remember much, probably. Schlatt wouldn’t have let him study it.

Right?

Was that a risk he was willing to bet his life on?

Dream pressed his lips together, the pain grounding him. Did he even have a choice at this point? He breathed out, the warm air ghosting over his lips. Fine. One last time.

“Deal.”

Quackity’s eyes lit up, surprised, but that was quickly smothered with him leaning forward to grin. “I’m listening, Dream.” Dream held up a hand and closed his eyes, breathing in. He went into his head, deep into his head. It was not an image of him that appeared, not a personification of his thoughts as he searched his memory. No, it was him. In the flesh. Dream reached into his memory and pulled free the book. It looked normal, nothing revealing the secrets hidden within. Just like a normal book, if a bit tattered and worn. Dream reached in again and pulled out an image of the book, made it real with the powers XD lent him all those years ago. Then, he took the knowledge from the revival book and transferred it to the copy. But before the words settled into the pages, he adjusted a few steps. Not enough that it was noticeable, not enough that Quackity could sense something was wrong. Just… enough that any revival wouldn’t work. Not without… well. No one needed to know that part. He pushed the original back into his memory, then used a little more admin power to make the copy real.

Dream breathed out and opened his eyes. The process only lasted the amount of time it took for him to breathe, and then the revival book was in his hands. He lifted his gaze to Quackity, who was staring at him. His mouth parted, his attention focused solely on the book. His hands twitched like he wanted to snatch it out of Dream’s hands, but he held them back. Dream offered him the copy, his face blank as the mask sitting broken on the floor beside him, none of his deception present on his face.

“I’m just,” Quackity started as he snatched the offered book away. “Going to check it’s real, you know? Make sure you aren’t going to trick me.”

“Of course.”

Quackity flipped through the pages, his eyes skimming through the instructions. He snapped the book closed with a relieved sigh.

“So,” Dream said. “As you promised?”

Quackity tucked the book away in his inventory, then turned to Dream. His face was blank, like he was staring at a particularly boring wall, at maybe the slightest imperfection. He stood to his feet, still silent, and tilted his head. Then, faster than Dream’s tired eyes could follow, Quackity swung the axe down. Dream felt the blade slice through his flesh and the sound of the edge hitting and shattering his collarbone echoed against the obsidian walls. The sound echoed in his ears as Dream fell over, his utter surprise permanently slapped on his face.

And the world faded to black.

    “Let’s go!”

   “Where are you?”

   “I’m at….”

   Eyes flickered open. He stared up into the darkness, breathing out slowly. He couldn’t even see the ceiling; it was so far up. The floor was cold under his back. At least, he assumed it was cold. He really couldn’t feel anything, not even the warmth inside his chest. He decided, maybe, it would be best if he got off the floor and sat up. Maybe see where he was?

When he sat up, burning pain flared in the crook of his neck. He gasped and slapped a hand over his wound and—

There was no blood. He could feel the pain, yes, the burning, yes, even the slice in his flesh, but…

There was no blood. He stood up, feeling over himself, when something caught his eye. He held out his arms, gazed at them with a growing frown. He could see the floor beneath him, the bedrock scattered amongst the blackstone. He could see the floor through his arms. That, that wasn’t normal, right? He touched himself, touched his arms, touched the faded color of his sweater. His hands didn’t pass through him. He stomped the ground and, no, he didn’t phase through it. He was solid, just… transparent. Why? How?

And where was he?

He turned, seeing a hallway to his right. Curious, he stepped forward, stepped into it. His footsteps echoed against the blackstone as he made his way to the end. There was a pen, but no animals left in it. There were signs and item frames on the walls, but nothing sat in them to show them off. It was empty, devoid of life and warmth. He didn’t know what any of this was, nor why he was here. He didn’t remember anything from before he woke up here. He didn’t even remember his name, if he had one.

A chirp echoed from behind him. He spun on his heel and froze when he saw the enderman. He dropped his gaze immediately, somehow instinctually knowing not to look them in the eyes. But… something tugged in his memory. He glanced up again, tried to keep his eyes shifted just to the right of the—

The enderman chirped again, tilting its head. It had its eyes covered with a bandage. It also… didn’t look like any enderman he had seen before, not that he remembered seeing many, or any… Its face was split down the middle, black on one side and white on the other. Its hair and hands were split much the same way, and he saw a tail waving behind it, also split in color. He stepped closer to it, carefully and hesitant. Its head moved with his steps, tracking his movements. When he stopped in front of it, he reached up to touch the bandages, needing to stand on his tip toes to even hope to reach. A black hand rested on his wrist, the claws held away. The enderman vwooped, the sound a refusal if he ever heard one.

“Why are you wearing that?” he asked, curiosity winning out over self-preservation. But the enderman only chirped back. He wished he understood what it was saying. He dropped back on his heels, sad that the first thing he found in this place was someone he couldn’t even understand. The enderman touched his hand and then pointed at the portal. He glanced between the portal and the enderman, not understanding.

“Do you want me to go through? Isn’t that dangerous?” He said, gesturing at himself. He had no armor, no weapons, no tools. The enderman gave him a gentle smile and a glimmering netherite axe appeared in its hand. He jumped back immediately, the wound on his shoulder flaring in pain. “Don’t, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The axe vanished and the enderman immediately went to him, softly chirring and offering comforting pats. He calmed slowly, chewing nervously on his lip. It rubbed at his cheek where tears had formed and, for the first time, he noticed the tear burns on the enderman’s own face. It made something in him warm, a sort of kinship with the enderman. He didn’t know why, but when the enderman offered its hand, he took it. They walked through the nether portal together. He couldn’t feel the heat of the nether, but some part of his brain knew it existed and what it used to feel like. The enderman seemed okay with it. Now that they weren’t in the suffocating dark, he noticed the enderman’s outfit was that of a suit. That was strange, that it wore clothes. But endermen weren’t half white and black either. He just accepted that this was his life now, to not understand things even when they didn’t seem right.

The trip was uneventful, except for the ghast who nearly shot him off the single block wide path. The enderman was handy with its axe, though it seemed to try to warn him before pulling it out. He appreciated it, though he wished he could express his gratitude to it. He also… really did not understand how it saw through the blindfold, but he was comforted to know whatever threats came for them, he was protected and watched over. He almost felt his face break into a smile, but that fell when they came to another portal. The path turned to obsidian and he felt fear and anxiety creep into him at the sight of the blocks. The enderman chirred and held out its hand. He dragged his gaze from the path to the hand and took it. He closed his eyes for good measure and the enderman led him through the portal.

Even though he couldn’t feel the change in temperature, the change from the burning nether to the snow-covered land faintly glowing under the moonlight startled him enough that his breath felt like he had. The air burned in his lungs, but the enderman pulled him forward. It did not release his hand, except to defend him against the mobs that spawned in the night. But once they were slain, the enderman’s hand wrapped tight around his again and he was led further on.

Eventually, he saw smoke rising in the distance. Then they crested a hill and he saw a small complex. Two houses, plus another covered building that looked warm and inviting. Plus, at least twenty dogs relaxing in the snow. They lifted their heads at their approach, barking happily at the enderman. It patted some of their heads as they passed through. He wanted to pat them too and he wondered if he could feel their fur, but the enderman led him up the stairs. He startled at the polar bear tied to one of the buildings, but it ignored him for the most part. The enderman lifted its face to the house, vwooped negatively, then led him across the bridge to the other house. It rapped its knuckles on the door and waited. He waited patiently too, curious as to where they were and why. It knocked again, louder this time, and he heard sounds from above as someone groaned and presumably climbed out of bed.

“Techno, I swear to god if that’s you…!” a voice called out and he jumped back from the door. It sounded angry and he didn’t want anyone’s anger directed at him. Especially not after such a nice trip with the nice enderman! Speaking of the enderman, he glanced at it, hoping it would protect him. More sounds came from inside the house and the enderman… froze. Then shook its head.

“What…? Why is this?” it said. He stared openly as its mouth opened and closed. The mismatched hands came up and undid the bandage and he dropped his gaze away from the enderman’s eyes, but not before he caught sight of what those looked like. Red and green… Mismatched like its body. He heard the enderman turn, then yelp in surprise. He lifted his gaze, just to its shoulder so he wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Um,” he started, but the enderman (hybrid???) started speaking to the door.

“Hey, uh, Phil?” it, no probably, he? The enderman called.

“Ranboo? Why are you here, it’s 3am!” The door cracked open, but it seemed to still hide him from Phil’s (???) gaze. Ranboo quickly looked at the door, a worried expression appearing on his face.

“So, uh. We have a little bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem? Wil, go back to sleep!” Phil shouted back into the house. There were more sounds from within, of another person descending a later. Probably the Wil-person? The door opened further and he got to watch the man who must be Phil look from Ranboo to him, his mouth parting in what he hoped was surprise and not… something worse. “Wha—?”

“Well…” Beside him, Ranboo threw out his arms in his direction and he lifted a hand in a wave. “We’ve got Gream now!”

[jack-is-lost]

PATCHES & PINS (CH 1)

A/N: This story revolves around a transgender, female to male, original character. LGBTQ+ topics are a given within this story. Gender and body dysphoria will come up as well since he is not out to his family — only close friends. If you dislike such a story premise please understand you do not have to interact with it at all. Leaving hate comments will be removed. Of course, constructive feedback is always welcomed.  

Pairing: Eventually Marko x OTMC

Story is still in progress and updates will be slow

Eventually it will be posted on A03 once I’m a few chapters in

Currently on Chapter one | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 coming soon

Chapter one

My life, for the most part, has always been unusual — a little different. Despite having parents that looked like any successful mom and dad ought to, and an older brother willing to stick up for me, things just didn't go according to plan. 

You see, my mother was excited to have a daughter finally. Someone to doll up and buy dresses for, maybe even enroll in a dance class. A stark difference to her firstborn, Tyler, who was all about karate lessons and throwing the ball with dad. Which eventually evolved to working on cars as he grew older. Our mother wanted somebody to share girly interests with, understandably. And, for a while, she was able to have it. The baby pictures are proof of that. Yet, as I grew older and became more aware of what I liked, the fewer things seemed cookie-cutter-perfect for my family.

"Are you not taking your bag to school, Jacklynn?" The mentioned item was nowhere in sight as the youngest of her children poured coffee — the action resembling someone needing every drop left in the pot as if to survive.

"It's the last day," came the grumbling response after a long, soothing sip. "I doubt most kids will even be showing up."

"Yeah, about that," Tyler, the oldest, spoke around a bite of toast. "Can't I be a minority and just stay home?"

"No, you only have one day left, guys." She smiled at her two kids. A graduate who had already filled out college applications, and is ready to further his engineering career. The other, soon-to-be senior, that seemed to have no real drive in anything but drawing and reading — and staying up too late apparently.

"Seriously," she spoke up again as they sighed in unison, deflating with their last hope crushed. "You two will survive."

Tyler nudged his sister, who leaned across the counter, jostling the coffee dangerously enough to receive a seething glare. "Want me to take you?"

It wasn't like Tyler to offer that too often, "Sure."

They both pulled away from the kitchen and made their way to the door, hollering goodbyes as Tyler grabbed the keys — the other sibling still nursing the coffee.

"Don't stay out too late!" Their mom called back, knowing full well she wouldn't see her kids after school. It seemed the closer summer drew in — the fewer tests to study for and homework to do, the more they came home later.

Tyler stepped into the car, unlocking the passenger door as he slid inside his cherry baby — A beaming red, 1983 Audi Sport Quattro, followed by his sister plopping down less elegantly. He glanced at her while starting the car.

"Talk to me, Jay." It was the last day, after all. Weren't kids supposed to be excited about that? "What's bouncing 'round that head of yours." He barely received any notion his sister was listening till she drew out a long sigh, head hitting the back of the seat.

"I don't know, man." It was drawn out, tired. "Didn't get much sleep, I guess."

Tyler nodded while giving the steering wheel a turn, making his way down the road. The school building wasn't very far when on wheels, and he pulled into a parking lot marginally less filled than it ought to be.

As his sister made to get out, he placed a hand on her shoulder, their eyes meeting as she paused halfway out the door. "Ever need to get a chip off your shoulder come talk to me, okay?" Her eyes rolled to the side, and Tyler gave her a little reassuring squeeze, "I'm serious. What are big —"

"— bro's for? I know, I know."

Tyler chuckled as he released her shoulder, "Good. Now," he slammed the door shut and leaned over the roof, "Go sleep in class or something." That at least drew a chuckle out of his sister as she turned away from the car.

The last day of school went how one could expect it to go. Some teachers put on movies and had extra treats for their students. Others went over lessons in the last semester, hoping it would stick to impressionable minds before three months of freedom — minds that were only thinking about freedom and not math.

It was by mid-day when a note made its way into Jay's locker. In gruff, almost unreadable handwriting, it merely said, 'Meet us by the big tree'. Jay instantly knew who it was from and folded the paper up.

A long night was probably ahead.

When the final bell rang, Jay had to wipe the drool off an impromptu pillow-desk before heading out and down the hall. Many of the kids loudly boasted about their summer plans while cleaning out lockers, jostling each other, and hurrying outside. Jay maneuvered around the hoard and quickly escaped out a side entrance, locker already empty since lunch.

It didn't take long to walk a block to the park, down a jogging trail, before splitting off into a cluster of trees. There, in the center of it, laid a large trunk of a dead tree. Upon it splayed out a makeshift map, bags, and — unsurprisingly, two brothers.

"Finally," Grumbled Edgar while raising his head, a red marker still poised over the map. "Where's Sam?"

Jay stared, unaware that Sam was supposed to tag along for the stroll after school let out. "Was I meant to wait for him or?"

"Forget it," came the short grunt, and Edgar was back to the more important matter at hand as Alan turned around to face Jay.

"I'm sure he'll show up. He's got the same note as you," he started to unravel what appeared to be a chaotic ball of cord in his hands. "Oh, hey—" he stopped as a thought struck him, "—Still a no go on the knife?"

Oh, not this again.

Jay leaned against the bare trunk, arms crossed and brow lifted. "Alan, we've been through this. Keep me on the books, but hand me a knife, and someone will lose a finger."

Of course, no one knew if Jay meant their fingers or not, and that was on purpose.

"Maybe some training will help," Edgar spoke up again, pausing on circling locations. "You need to prepare yourself for—"

"— the unexpected. I get it, Ed." Jay cut him off while peering closer to get a look at the map.

"Edgar," he corrected with a tired mutter despite it being useless. They've known each other for an entire year now. One would think it wouldn't matter at this point.

Jay tapped a finger on the closest circled spot, the cemetery. "Thought you marked this off?"

"One can never be certain," He nodded to his own words of wisdom. "It is a common ground for the dead."

"I'd say," Jay suppressed a snort, "It is where the deceased go to be laid into the ground."

Rustling noises announced Sam’s arrival as he pushed through, almost smacking himself in the face with a thin branch. His strained voice drew attention to him. “Guys,” he dusted a leaf off his overly styled coat, “We really need to find a better spot to meet.”

Jay lazily offered a salute wave, “Hey to you too, Sammy.”

“I’m serious,” Sam huffed while taking up a spot near Alan, hands shoved into his pockets. “What about the shop? Y’know, with school now over and stuff?”

Edgar grunted in thought. “Yeah, that ought to be doable.”

“Your grandpa still against us being at the house?” Alan spoke up.

Sam gave a partial shrug. “Sort of,” he eyed the map, then glanced at Jay, who returned the unspoken question with a tired look. Sam returned to explaining when Edgar motioned for him to continue. “You guys can visit, as you have, but you can’t — you know —” he shuffled his hands for the right phrasing, “— bring hunting business there.”

Jay had never actually been to Sam’s place, but the stories shared made it sound like a lot of stuff went down there — destroying property kind of stuff. So Jay could understand what the man was trying to avoid. The Frog Brothers being walking time bombs of destruction, after all.

“The cemetery again?” Sam squawked at noticing it. “I am not doing that again.” The sound of Jay snickering redirected Sam’s defiant stare. “Make Jay do it this time.”

“Wait, wha—”

“—He doesn’t have the qualification for it, Sam.” Edgar cut in before an argument could occur. This only made Sam huff, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“So? I didn’t either last year.”

Alan stopped weaving the cord at this point, placing it down on the dead trunk. “Jay needs the experience. It could be good for him.” He simply spoke, agreeing with Sam.

“Hey, Jay’s right here,” he had pointedly avoided parading around Santa Carla for a whole damn year. Sure, his knowledge of supernatural things is what drew the Frog Brothers to him in the first place — and the free charge of ordering books at their shop kept Jay in the circle, but he was a good year older than them and didn’t feel like playing make-believe.  

Sam smirked in the way that screamed challenging, “C’mon, Jay, or are you scared of the dark?”

Jay narrowed his eyes, “I know what you are doing.”

“Then prove me wrong,” Sam continued.

“No.”

Despite that, Jay found himself amongst the dead at one in the damn morning. It was eerie, the cemetery, sitting in absolute silence and blanketed by a coat of darkness. The only noise now filtering through was shoes scrapping against the ground and low grumbles around him, voices hushed as not to alert anybody — or anything. Even their flashlights were ordered to stay off unless it called for it, as directed by Edgar.

“Exactly what should we be expecting to find here?” Jay spoke up quietly while trailing behind the two brothers, hands stuffed into his jacket. It was chilly tonight.

“Any signs of the undead.” Edgar simply said without much explanation, to which Alan filled in.

“Disturbed graves, tombs broke, drag marks.” he ticked off like a list.

“Ah,” Jay deadpanned. “So zombies?” the brothers turned to him, the moonlight hitting their frames but leaving their faces shadowed. “What?”

“Could be vampires too.” Edgar simply grunted. “Fresh ones crawling out of their dirt bed.” Alan nodded along with his brother, and Jay sighed.

“Sure, yeah. That too,” It wasn’t like anything of the sort actually existed, but Jay would humor the guys. They put up with his oddities, after all, so he could continue to do the same for them.

“Didn’t any of your books mention that?” Edgar continued while turning around, walking along a worn-out path again, and avoiding stepping on actual graves.

“A little,” Jay admitted as they continued on their trek.

A majority of Jay’s supernatural books were all about how one became something, the signs, and lore behind creatures — not exactly if they crawl out of graves or not. It made sense, though, if considering how people feared vampires in the past. How they would stake and behead someone during burial just in case their loved one decided to raise again.

Same could be said about leaving a bell.

Alan suddenly crouched down near the edge of a grave. “Look,” his flashlight clicked on to bask the empty hole in light. Edgar followed promptly as Jay stared at the two figures eyeing an obvious dug hole for a burial happening soon.

“It might be a sign.” Edgar rubbed a finger over the crumbling edges, dirt smearing and falling back inside the pit.  

“Or,” Jay leaned over them to get an exact look at the perfect outline, “It is the groundskeeper getting ready for a funeral. There’s not even a casket down there.” Jay simply summarized before leaning back.

Alan clicked off the light and stood, “He’s right, Edgar. It is too perfect.”  

“Hey!” the voice resonated out, cutting the muffled talking off as a beam of light frantically flailed in their directions. “What are you kids doing?!”

Without a shared word between the three, just mere glances at one another, they quickly split. Or at least Jay tried to do just that, but the brush of Edgar flying past him in a rush entirely threw him off balance. It wasn’t until tailbone smashed into dirt that Jay even figured out what happened.

“Fuck…” he muttered, then covered his mouth as the light grew brighter over the grave from above, rushing footfalls growing closer before fading away in the direction the brothers ran. Once it was clear, the curse slipped again with more fever.  

Jay eased to his feet and stared above his head, the wall towering almost a foot over him. “They truly mean six-feet-under,” he muttered while raising a hand to the ledge, just able to cup fingers over the lip, only to stumble back as it gave away.

The recent rainfall was not making it easy.

Again Jay tried to grab, shoes scraping along the wall in an attempt to gain some height — thinking if he just rushed up the wall it would give him enough momentum, only to fall back against the adjacent wall.

“Shit — fuck,” Jay didn’t even care if his voice traveled that time. He was stuck in a damn grave, after all! Screw it!

“Need a lift?” came a voice from above, and Jay shot his gaze upward to see a hand reaching down toward him. The moonlight didn’t offer much else to see but light curls and the frame of a coat.

Even if it were the security guard, Jay knew this would be his best bet. It wasn’t like waiting till daylight to be discovered was an option. It would not help much in regards to needing to be home before Jay’s parents could find out he even snuck out.  

He reached for the hand, feeling leather against palm and uncovered fingers wrap around his wrist. It took only one good heave, shoes against the wall and other hand clinging to the edge, to be entirely pulled out. Despite mud caking Jay from front to back, he could even feel it in his shoes; it felt good to be back on the surface. It wasn’t like he had a fear of enclosed places, but it still sucked regardless.

“Thanks,” he looked over at the stranger, still only catching the slightest glimpse of a smirk within the darkness. It was hard to make out any features, and the way the guy stood didn’t help anything.

“Were you takin’ a dirt bath?” he joked inquisitively, and Jay chuckled under his breath.

“No, not exactly.” Who would want to do that in a cemetery anyway?  

The beam of a flashlight washed over them again as rustling sounds drew near, and Jay stepped away from the pre-dug grave. Definitely not wanting to repeat that incident all over.

“Looks like we should start running,” spoke up the other guy, head turned away from Jay to peer toward the security guard.

What was once hidden was now lit up like a spotlight. A smooth curved jawline, willowed eyes bright with brown, and curly dirty blond hair glowed on display for a split moment. Until the flashlight jostled by the running security guard fanned over the area. And Jay would be lying if he said he didn’t stare.

“Avoid any more holes, yeah?” he easily teased before seemingly stepping in a direction with no real speed.

Jay floundered for a moment before taking off after him. “Wait.” Jay didn’t know the grounds that well, and the two idiots that did had left him.

The guy laughed while reaching behind him, grabbing Jay’s wrist again with no problem, then started to run as the worn-out guard hollered something. He seemed to avoid any lifted tombstones, flower arrangements, and small fences like it were daytime. All while Jay tried his best not to stumble, gaze more on the ground than anywhere else.

When they neared the exit gate, chained to prevent people at such odd hours to visit, he let Jay’s arm go and placed both palms out while crouching down. Jay didn’t have to ask and quickly stepped into the waiting hands. He felt the guided push upward as his own hands grabbed for purchase, trying to avoid being nicked by the gothic-style fence. Yet, as Jay’s leg swung over, his pants snagged and ripped — the gravity of his body spilling over the other side holding little resistance.

Surprisingly Jay landed on his feet, if not a little wobbly, and quickly looked through the fence to see the guy still standing there undeterred. “You coming?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he simply said. Jay wanted to comment, but the sight of the guard pushing past the nearest tombstones shut him up. “Go.” he laughed again — actually laughed as if nonplussed by the whole thing. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him distracted.” Then he turned around and fanned his arms out as if directing air traffic before darting down the side of the fence.

And that was the last Jay saw of the guy before quickly hiding behind the bushes lining outside of the cemetery, not wanting to be seen as the flashlight shown in his direction.

The walk home was slow as he picked flakes of mud off his jeans. Jay could feel the dry mess on his face and in his hair. A shower was needed as well as a talk with the Frog Brothers tomorrow. No way were they getting off free from abandoning him in the damn graveyard! Even as he climbed back through the bedroom window, Jay was envisioning how he’d throttle them. It wasn’t until he was in the shower, scrubbing extra hard to clean the grime off, that his thought wavered to the stranger.

“Why was he even there?”

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Could/Should/Did: Bucky Barnes-Intro

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1474

Summary: You were somehow immortal, and that meant that you got to watch the man you loved, the Winter Soldier apparently, be blamed for things he didn’t do. Not on your watch.

Note: Inspiration on the whole immortal thing from the Old Guard (great movie, go watch it)

You couldn’t die.

Or at least, you were pretty sure you couldn’t.

You hadn’t exactly tested that theory to its full limits despite how much your mind told you to sometimes.

To back up and explain the situation a little better, it all started when you found one James Barnes scrounging in the streets for some change to help pay for his best friend’s mediciner. You’d helped him out, made friends with them both, and the rest--as they say--was history. You and Bucky fell in love somewhere along the way, which was precisely the reason you became an army nurse when he signed up. He’d kicked up a fit since no one would be home to watch out for Steve, but Steve had wholeheartedly agreed that Bucky needed you to watch his back more than he ever could.

Through, thick, thin, and his unit’s kidnapping you were by Bucky’s side. Even after the whole ‘Steve is huge now’ thing and the formation of the Howling Commandos you were there, working with Peggy and Howard to bring your boys home safe.

And then your boy didn’t.

And then Peggy’s didn’t.

For a while you drifted, lost without the man you’d basically grown up with. Eventually, you realized that you weren’t aging, so you tracked down your old friend Peggy to try and figure out if there really was something to those Hydra experiments you’d been subjected to back in the war. Of course without the original data, Howard didn’t find anything conclusive. All you knew was that bullets were ejected from your body in seconds, cuts healed over even faster, and poison did little more than make you drowsy. All vitals were just the same as a normal person. There was seemingly no reason for you to be like this, but there you were, looking like you were barely 25 while your friends passed 40.

So you did the only thing you could: accept it and move on. SHIELD helped hide your secret while you played spy and fed them information when you found it. You stayed in the field, record hidden, so no one besides the highest members of the organization knew your face.

And time moved on.

Friends died, new ones took their place, and you tried to protect them as much as possible. Rinse and repeat.

When it hit the news that Steve Rogers was back, you stayed away. Hidden in South America dealing with some human trafficking rings so you didn’t have to look at the man who was once one of your closest friends. Whether you avoided him because you didn’t want him to see the killer you’d become or because you were bitter it was him and not your lover that’d come back from the dead, you didn’t care to analyze. As far as he knew, you’d died a long time ago after living a long, normal life, and any mentions of your still-occurring visits to Peggy from the woman’s own lips were written off alongside the issues to her memory.

It was purely by happenstance that you were in New York during the invasion. Clint and Natasha clearly saw the hallmarks of your fighting style while helping with the cleanup after, but they thankfully kept it to themselves since they knew how deep undercover you were at any given time. They made a point of thanking you later, though, when you met up for drinks in Nowhere, Germany a few months later.

The next you heard of Steve was that fiasco in DC. You were fuck and gone away from that mess, so you could nothing but sit in mute horror when Natasha exposed all of SHIELD’s files. Including yours. 

And that was how you ended up lurking behind a tree when Natasha gave Steve the file on the Winter Soldier.

“What’s in there,” she was saying, “You may not want to read it.”

“So,” that was a voice you only knew because of your research, Sam Wilson, “when do we start?”

“Before you do,” Natasha spoke up again, “I know someone that might be able to help.”

You took that as your cue to make your presence known, so you stepped out from behind the tree with an awkward little wave. “Hey, Stevie.”

He just stared at you for a while, muted by the shock. Eventually, he managed to force out, “I saw the files, but I didn’t think . . .” in a broken-sounding voice.

You nodded. “If you saw my file then you know . . .” You couldn’t say the words.

“That you’re somehow tougher than Steve?” Sam teased. “Yeah, he filled me in.”

“She’s always been tougher than me, Sam,” Steve joked weakly. “You shoulda seen her back in the day with Buck and Peggy. Unstoppable, those three.”

“You’re just mad we made you sleep a reasonable amount.”

“I think I’ve caught up on that by now.” His tone was playful, but his face was pained. You couldn’t exactly blame him for that. You’d come just as jarringly forward in time as him. You’d just taken the long way around.

An awkward silence fell over the cemetery.

“Is it true?” you eventually asked tentatively.

Steve nodded once., clearly trying to swallow back the rising emotion. “Yeah. It’s him. Without a doubt.”

“Then let’s find him.”

Sam smirked a little. “It won’t be easy.”

“The only easy thing about Bucky Barnes is flirting with him,” you scoffed. “Besides, I’ve had some practice doing the impossible by now.”

He snickered. “Fair enough. Where do we start?”

~

There were some things you would absolutely never tell Steve: that you knew how it felt to drown over and over again because your body just wouldn’t let you die, that you hunted down as many Nazis that fled to South America that you could after the war, and now that you’d found bucky (now going by Jamie) only a month into the search with Sam. He was spending his time split between hiding in Romania trying to recover his memory and hunting down Hydra cells as he recalled their existence. Odds were good that the Winter Soldier knew he had a tail that helped watch his back from a distance on those missions, but you respected that he needed time to try and get his mind back together and didn’t approach. You simply helped keep him safe and stayed away.

Then Ultron happened.

Then the Sokovia Accords happened and divided the now-famous Avengers. Thankfully since you were a ghost (and had largely managed to bury any records mentioning you shortly after they were released), you were excluded from those negotiations.

And then Bucky was framed for a bombing in a country he hadn’t set foot in since breaking his programming. You knew he was an innocent since you had eyes on him buying groceries at the time that damning video was taken.

You couldn’t help but jump in surprise when your phone rang, startling you out of your horror-filled staring at the news. Of course it was Steve’s name displayed on the screen. “It wasn’t him, Steve,” was your blunt greeting.

“I know. You know where he is, don’t you?”

Your answer was silence.

“They’re willing to kill him to bring him in. I need to get to him first. Where is he?”

“Steve . . .”

“You want to protect him as much as I do, sweetheart. You need the help. Where are you?”

You sighed, knowing and hating that he was right. “Track this number. I’ll be in his apartment while he’s at the market.”

“Is that wise? Surprising him like that?”

“What’s he gonna do? Kill me?” you scoffed just before hanging up. “Lovely,” you muttered to yourself in the silence that followed.

~

“It’s good to see you,” Steve greeted as he clambered through the window.

“Don’t lie to me; you hate that my hands are as dirty as they are.” It was true; the two of you had gotten into an argument not long into the hunt for Bucky about the things he’d read about you in that report.

“I’m always happy to see you. It’s nice having someone that understands.” He smirked. “Whether or not you wash your hands. You really should though; stops spreading germs from what I’ve read.”

“Steve . . .” you groaned, scratching the bridge of your nose. “I don’t really understand, though; you need to know that. I’ve lived the time difference, and I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of nor sorry for.” You were firm in that stance even in that first argument.

His expression returned to something more serious. “I know. Maybe you can help him. You know. Similar life experiences and all.”

“I don’t think what we went through are quite the same thing,” came Bucky’s tired voice as he opened the door and entered the apartment. “Hey, Steve . . . Doll. It’s been a while.”

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

For her safety (Elijah Mikaelson) #5

A/N: Finally!! 

I’m so sorry for the long wait. I’ve been a bit stuck on the story and didn’t know which way to take it. But after some time and great thought, I’ve finally figured out where I want to take this. So far I think this will be a 10 chapter story. Thank you to everyone who has supported this. Again, I am so sorry it took so long to get this up!! Hope you enjoy! 

**For her safety masterlist**

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural: (I’m only up to season 2 at the moment, so please don’t give requests with spoilers)***

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNER

y/n awoke to the sun shining through the window, blinding her. She groaned a little and pulled the covers over her eyes. She hears a soft chuckle behind her, then there’s fingers running through her hair, rubbing her head. She moans in response, “That feels amazing..”

Elijah pulls the covers off her body, just enough to see her shoulders. “Good morning, my love.” He mumbles against the shoulder on her skin, leaving a soft trail of kisses on her shoulder to her neck. He gathers her hair in his hand and moves it off her neck, returning his lips against her skin.

“Good morning.” She shivers against his touch and reaches behind her to run her fingers through his hair.

“Are you hungry?” He whispers in her ear.

She nods in response, “After last night, I’ve worked up quite the appetite.”

He chuckles softly against her skin, his index finger trailing up her thigh to her hip, “Shall we get ready and go out for breakfast?”

She turns around to face him, “What if I don’t want to leave this comfy bed?” She hums against his lips.

“Then breakfast will come to you, my darling.” He presses a soft kiss to her forehead before getting out of bed and slipping pajama pants on. (This was weird for me to write because I can’t imagine him wearing anything else besides a suit lol)

She groans and dramatically flops back over on her back, “I didn’t want you to leave either.”

He gathers her clothes that were thrown around the room and lays them on the small couch next to the fireplace. “Well it’s either I go get breakfast and bring it to you or we both get breakfast together.”

~

As the two of them made their way downstairs, Klaus sat at a table in the courtyard, a grand breakfast in front of them. There was fruit, different pastries, tea, and coffee. Looks like they wouldn’t need to go out to get breakfast.

“Did the love birds enjoy their night together?” Klaus comments, sipping his tea.

Y/n blushed. She’d forgot about that vampire hearing. They must have heard everything. “Since you asked Niklaus, yes we did.” She snapped back, taking a strawberry from the plate, and taking a bite.

“Yes, by the amount of moaning coming from my dear brother’s room last night, I figured as much.”

“Oh Niklaus, leave our brother and the tramp alone.” Rebekah states, coming down the stairs, She had not realized who the girl Elijah had in his room last night.

“Damn, Beck, I’ve been demoted from best friend to tramp?” y/n laughed, turning around to face the original sister, shock written all over her face.

“y/n! I had no idea it was you!” She squeals, wrapping her arms around the human, careful not to squeeze her too much.

Y/n returns the hug, “Well obviously, or you wouldn’t have called me a tramp.”  

“What are you doing here! What-I mean you’re not even supposed to know about us.” Rebekah pulls away to look at her friend but before y/n can get a word out, Klaus interrupts.

“Sweet y/n here paid a visit to our dear friend Jane Anne.” Klaus says, standing from the table, “Jane Anne performed some witchy voodoo magic and poof! Y/n’s compulsion is gone.”

“Niklaus, please-” Elijah begins, but is cut short.

“She has just put us all in danger. Including herself.” Klaus spits, pointing a finger at y/n, “We have enemies trying to take us down and if they know she’s the woman you so love and care for, she’s dead. And so are you Elijah.” He then storms off, slamming the door behind him as he leaves.

Y/n looks at Elijah. She is not quite sure what to say. She did not know about the enemies. She did not know her coming back would put her and others in danger.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just being his normal bastard self.” Rebekah comforts, rubbing her back, “We were in danger way before you arrived.”

Elijah pulls a chair out for y/n, “Come sit and eat. Rebekah’s right, don’t worry about him.”

Y/n takes a seat, “I didn’t know you guys were in danger.”

Rebekah takes a seat next to y/n and Elijah takes the seat across from them. He hands the girls a plate, “Niklaus has had his fair share of enemies, but there’s a group of rebellious vampires who don’t want Niklaus to rule over the quarter. They want the “kingdom” to themselves.”

Y/n begins fixing her plate with some fruit and a muffin, “If they’re just vampires, can’t you guys take them out? I mean, you guys are originals. Way stronger and powerful than them.”

“The rebellious vampires have some kind of… weapon. We believe it’s a powerful witch. It’s thought that they have her hidden under ground and no one has ever heard or seen of her.” Rebekah says.

“Niklaus is on edge with everything going on. He wants the witch that’s strong enough to kill him, but no one will talk.” Elijah adds.

Y/n picks at her muffin, “I know I’m only a weak human, but I am more than willing to help you guys.” She looks between Elijah and Rebekah, “With whatever you guys need.”

Elijah reaches across the table to take her hand, “There’s no need for that. I believe we have it handled. There are enough vampires on our side to help us fight this. We also have our own witch, our sister Freya.”

“You guys have another sister?” Y/n asks shocked. Lots of things had changed since they erased her memories.

~

Days went by. Elijah had gone to y/n’s hotel room and retrieved her things and brought them back to the compound. She had agreed to stay at the compound with the Mikaelson’s so they could protect her, in case there was word about her to the rebellious vampires. It had been almost a week and she had to admit she was going stir crazy sitting around. Elijah sat in his study at his desk, when she walked in and came up from behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Elijah..” She whispers in his ear.

He rubs his hand along her arm and kisses it, “Yes, love?”

“Can we please go out tonight? I’m going crazy being cooped up in here.” She groans.

He turns his chair around to face her, pulling her into his lap, “You know I can’t allow that…” He says softly, pushing a piece of hair out of her eyes, “I have to keep you safe and that means staying here.”

She pouts, “Fine..”

He kisses her pout, “Why don’t you, Rebekah and Freya have a girls night or something? You can watch movies and whatever else you girls do on a girls night.” He chuckles.

Y/n sighs and nods, getting off his lap, “Okay.. I’ll go talk to Rebekah.”

As she starts to walk away, he grabs her hand, causing her to turn and look at him, “I only want to protect you.” He stands, “I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.” His hand goes to her cheek.

She leans into his touch, her free hand going over his, “I love you, Elijah Mikaelson.”

He places a soft kiss on her forehead, “I love you too.” He pulls her against his chest, hugging her close, “So much.”

~

“Come on Rebekah, I’ll have you, an original vampire, and Freya, a witch to protect me.” Y/n begs. She’d found Rebekah and Freya and begged them to take her out tonight for a girl’s night. Rebekah didn’t like the idea at all.

“If Elijah knew I let you leave and went with you, he’d dagger me.” Rebekah says.

“If you two don’t go with me, I’ll just sneak out by myself tonight. Then I will be out in the quarter, all alone. Without any protection.” She crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

Rebekah narrows her eyes, “You wouldn’t.”

Y/n shrugs, “You know me well enough to know that I will. I’m not scared.”

“Rebekah, we can dress her up, do her make up and make her unrecognizable. No one will know it’s her.” Freya bargains.

Y/n smiles, wrapping her arm around Freya’s shoulder, “Maybe I’m best friends with the wrong sister. Thank you, Freya.”

Rebekah rolls her eyes, before agreeing, “Okay fine. We do your make up, hair and dress you up. And you don’t leave our sight.”

Y/n nods, “Sounds like a deal to me!”

*******************************************************************************************

Hope you guys enjoyed!! xx 

[missroserose]

return of the return of the wednesday reading meme?

So it turns out that trying to read when I’m on a writing bender is...actually fairly hard?  It’s almost like working on a story between six and fourteen hours a day doesn’t leave me much time for...well, much of anything.  But that fic is done, and holiday stuff is pretty much finished, so here we go again!  We’ll see how long I last this time.

What I’ve just finished reading

Tender Morsels, by Margo Lanagan.  I’ve been thinking a lot about story structure lately, in part because it’s something I’ve been aiming to have more of in my work, so this was a fascinating read in part because it didn’t follow a traditional structure at all.  Or, really, you could almost argue that it’s the reverse of a traditional structure—where in a Hero’s Journey-style story you have the inciting incident that sends the main character out into the world to be forever changed, here you have a victimized teenage girl responding to further trauma by literally withdrawing into her safe, comfortable fantasy world and staying there for decades while she raises her two daughters.  I appreciated that the story largely treated this choice with empathy; while she’s upbraided by one character later on for her selfishness in not allowing her daughters to experience the real world until they’re grown, most of the others are thoroughly understanding—and the price she pays ends up being a quiet and personal one rather than the Epic Potentially World-Ending Catastrophe that most Western storytelling would demand.  There’s a lot to chew over in this story, about the effects of trauma, and culture, and how to make existing as a disempowered person bearable. 

If I had one complaint about it it’d probably be that the story treats the “real” world’s brutally patriarchal culture as an inevitability, something that can’t be fought directly, but only undermined covertly, through magic and other hidden means.  I guess I have just enough of my mother’s crusader tendencies to want to say “forget that, we can do better”...but power dynamics are forever a tricky thing to alter, and from the perspective of the main characters, there’s really not that much they can do; it’s something of a triumph even to learn to exist within it.

(Thanks again to @introvertia for sending me this, it’s given me lots to think about!)

What I’m currently reading

Gideon the Ninth, by Tamsyn Muir.  I’m almost through the audiobook, and hoo boy have I been enjoying it.  The author and the narrator both are doing a bang-up job in helping my brain keep the large ensemble cast straight—every character has a distinct personality and voice, and the ways they bounce off each other are eminently believable.  Gideon, with her irreverent attitude and occasional brilliance, and Harrowhawk, with her continual brilliance and equivalent insufferability, continue to be one of my favorite fictional pairings; even once they start to trust each other somewhat, their chemistry is just phenomenal. The worldbuliding I’m a little fuzzier on, but the characters are so propulsive that I’ve been more than willing to just go with it.  And given that they’re basically acolytes of a mysterious and claustrophobic religious order that requires absolute faith from its adherents, to a degree it works that the origins are mysterious, even if I occasionally find myself wondering about practicalities like “okay, so, who exactly maintains the shuttles?  And the atmosphere processors?  And grows the food?  And who’re they fighting in this mysterious war that’s only occasionally mentioned...?“  I’ll be interested to see if she expands on that in the further books.

What I plan to read next

To be honest, I have no idea.  I may well just pick up something from one of the piles of books around my house—God knows I have enough of them, haha.

Fanfiction Spotlight

This week I want to point out Solus, Soulless, Solace by Blake (@newleafover on tumblr).  I’ve often thought that the soulless version of Sam we meet in Season 6 of Supernatural is one of those opportunities practically tailor-made for fanfic—the direction they took him in the show worked fine, but there’s just so much potential for exploration there, especially with Sam’s internality.  What does the world look like, to a human being without a soul?  How does his inability to feel emotion change how he relates to his loved ones, and especially to the one person his life revolves around?  And without the ability to love, what is it that keeps him so tied to Dean?

Blake uses the opportunity to present an unrelentingly crystalline portrait of trauma-induced functional depression, where habit and careful consideration carries you through most of the motions of your life but you’re acutely aware that your usual breadth and depth of emotional experience is just—gone.  Further, they write it in second person, unusual for a non-reader-insert fic but powerful in that it strips away that layer of insulation.  And damn if it isn’t 100% effective.  I happened to come across it after a week that had involved more than a little emotional heavy lifting; reading it was like going outside during a sunny eighteen-degree day when all my muscles were sore.  It felt therapeutic, if only in the sense of “oh, right, this is why I’m doing all this painful internal work, so I don’t end up here again.”

[samwellwinchesterthebrave]

Because I can't let this go.

I've said before that the finale felt like the perfect ending for season 1 Sam and Dean and Cas not existing. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes and the more right it feels to me.

I'm also starting to think it was completely intentional.

There were so many callbacks to season 1 in that finale. From Jenny (who I didn't even remember until the flashback) to the clothes Sam and Dean were wearing in the final scene. It could have been a love letter to their beginnings. It could have been a "look where we started, look how far we've come" type of callback.

It wasn't.

Instead, to me, it felt like a deliberate attempt to -recreate- season 1. It was an attempt to roll back the entire story to that point, when Dean was 26 and Sam was 21. To when Sam was a boy trying to escape a life he didn't want and Dean was an older boy trying to live up to the ideals of an abusive, broken father.

To get meta about it, which it's Supernatural so why not?, the first season was about the only season where the show was under control. It was new, still trying to establish itself and find its legs and audience. The actors were still settling into their characters, filling in the silhouettes they'd been given.

Sam was still the angry, rebellious son who couldn't take being told what to do anymore when he desperately didn't want the life he was told to live.

Dean was still the one-dimensional party boy, never looking past the next burger, the next fight, the next woman. The dutiful son who did what he was told no matter how much it hurt.

The show was supposed to appeal to the white, cis, straight male population. I kind of wonder if the showrunners and network hoped to pull viewers from the X-Files because the shows are somewhat similar. And, iirc, the X-Files ended around 2005? But it was supposed to represent a kind of red-blooded American male dream of the open road, classic car and music, burgers and fries, and willing women whenever you wanted. It was supposed to be the little guys' big damn hero moment.

But then it grew. Thanks in a lot of ways to Jensen Ackles and the depth he gave Dean. Also thanks to Misha Collins, later on, and how he portrayed Castiel.

And so, the show grew a life of its own, beyond what the creators had intended. Like Sam, it rebelled against the box it had been pigeonholed into. It decided, thanks to the wonderful actors and writers and fans who decidedly weren't the original demographic, that this wasn't all it was. New characters were introduced, changing the feel of it from the Sam and Dean show to a whole world. It changed and developed a soul of its own.

"Family don't end in blood"

"Always keep fighting"

These became the touchstones of the show, of what it had become. Against all odds and attempts to wrench it back, the show expanded. Side characters were loved, given prominence, given importance. An angel who was supposed to die after a 3 episode arc became a lead. Another angel who was meant to become a love interest died. (Essentially, they swapped places)

Which brings me back around to the finale. In 15.18, Castiel confessed his love to Dean. It had been there all along in subtext, in action, in expressions and body language. But now it was spoken aloud (no longer the love that dare not speak its name) and irrefutable. He did it to speak his truth, to acknowledge who he was, and to save the man he loved. He was also killed for it, a classic example of the Bury Your Gays trope. While his death was meaningful and accomplished a goal, it still followed the trope.

And because it happened so fast, Dean has no time to respond. Death, literally, is beating down the door to get to them. He has been taught all his life to repress his emotions, to swallow down anything that wasn't anger. This is also his best friend saying goodbye, to dying once again. And Dean had believed he wasn't worthy of love, that angels couldn't love in the same way humans did.

So we're left with resounding silence on Dean's end, a love confession heard but not responded to. We don't hear Dean's side but we see him fall apart after Cas is taken by the Empty.

Then 15.19 wraps up the season. We get Lucifer tricking Dean with Cas's voice over a phone call. Always before, when the devil is trying to gain entrance somewhere, we see him using the person's significant other. The subtext here screams. We see Dean bolting up the stairs to open the door, likely words burning on his lips, only to find Lucifer.

Dean never mentions the confession to Sam. But we do see him mourning. He also never says anything in return to the confession. There's a resounding silence on Dean's side as he tries to process losing Cas again. But he does use what Cas has told him, the words that changed how Dean views himself, to beat Chuck.

Then, in the finale, Sam brings up Cas and Dean doesn't take this opportunity to tell Sam either. He says that they need to live or Cas's sacrifice was in vain. Which, fair, but it still feels like not something Dean would say. No asking Jack if there's any way to get Cas out of the Empty, no research to see if there's a way? Nothing?

The writing has moved past the confession, burying it hurriedly and hoping to never refer to it again. It takes a hard turn back to season 1 with a monster of the week hunt. We see the brothers on their own, no found family or support around them. They have Miracle and it's adorable. But Sam barely notices the dog in the beginning, which always seemed off to me. Sam canonically loves dogs and he has nothing to do with the one Dean finally adopts?

They pull out John's journal again, looking for information and guidance from their father and his hunts once again. They fight vampires, Dean fumbling in the fight in a way we've never seen him do. Then he's killed by a piece of rebar in his back on a vanilla monster hunt and Sam goes on to live the apple pie, white picket fence life.

This would have been a good ending for who they started as. Dean dying on a hunt he'd dedicated his life to, saving innocents and standing for those who couldn't stand for themselves. Sam escaped a life he never wanted and lived the calm, normal life he'd always longed for with a family of his own. And later, they reunite in Heaven.

Just the brothers. No family, no extended family, no friends. Ignoring what the show has been saying, the core of its soul, for the past 10 years, at the least.

It felt like a last ditch attempt to drag the show back into the red-blooded straight American male wet dream no matter what. No matter who was dropped along the way and what themes and messages were ignored. Even Eileen was dropped, the woman Sam had been in love with throughout the entire last season.

It was a disconnect from the season. To me, it felt like it was trying to reclaim a personality that had long ago changed and grown. It was a regression and not just a fond callback

[lazyfox411]

For the whump prompts, head injury, any character you want. And good luck on exams! —whumperfly

I must begin,,,,with an apology because this took SO long to make. Life has been one fiasco after another, but my exams at least did go well! Thank you so much @whumperfly for your patience, and for sending me this in the first place! 

Characters are Locus and Felix from Red vs Blue

Length: 1870 words

 ~~~

Contrary to popular belief–well, mostly Felix’s belief–Locus does, in fact, know how to relax. He’s turned the lights low in his apartment, set the television to some mindless, easy to watch soap opera, and he’s on his way to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine.

That’s when there’s a knock at the door. 

He slides open the drawer of his desk to pull out a gun and slip it into his waistband. Truly, you can never be too careful. Some people might call him paranoid, but in his line of work, you’re either paranoid or you’re dead. 

A glance through the peephole reveals his visitor isn’t an enemy, at least in the sense that they probably won’t immediately try to murder him. Locus tucks the gun away and opens the door. 

“Felix,” he nods. “What are you doing here?”

They haven’t received their next contract yet. Felix has no reason to come to his apartment, and yet here he is, braced in the doorframe. Instead of giving a reply, Felix mumbles something unintelligible and his hand slips from the doorframe. Locus reaches out to catch him on instinct as he slumps towards the floor. Felix leans heavily against his chest, mumbling again, and now that he’s close, Locus can smell the mix of booze, tobacco, cologne, and sweat, an odor he’s no doubt picked up from a club somewhere. Felix is drunk, he realizes. 

Locus sighs. This is not his idea of a peaceful Friday evening. He wants nothing more than to shove Felix back out into the hallway and lock the door, but...well, but. They’re partners. They look out for each other.

 He takes Felix’s arm, draping it across his shoulders, and hefts him to his feet. Felix fights him all the way to the bathroom, swinging and cursing at him belligerently. 

“Fuck off,” Felix says, volatile, and it’s the most coherent he’s sounded since coming through the door. Locus pays the demand no mind, leading him into the bathroom and sitting him down on the edge of the tub. If he can make Felix take a shower, or at least splash some cold water on his face, he might sober up a bit. 

Hands free, Locus turns around to flick the lights from dim to something that allows him to see more than the basic outline of where he’s walking. Before he can even turn back, Felix is on his knees, vomiting fiercely into the toilet. 

Locus sighs, again, and wonders how many sighs he will have made by the time Felix is ready to leave his apartment. Felix squints at him, face pale, eyes hazy, and that’s when Locus notices the dark bruises forming along his jawline.

He extends a hand to cup Felix’s chin, tilting his head to examine the purple splotches. “Who did this to you?” 

Felix blinks, confused. He narrows his eyes at Locus, then glances around the room, like he’s realizing where he is for the first time. 

“What happened?” Locus presses. 

“I don’t… god, will you shut that light off? It’s too damn bright.” Felix groans, lowering his head to his hands. With an unobstructed view of the back of his head, Locus can see a bump swelling under his short hair. He’s not drunk, Locus realizes, he’s been hurt.

“You’re injured.”

“I’m fine.” 

“If that were true then you wouldn’t be here. You’re most likely concussed. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know, it’s...fuzzy. These guys at the bar, they came at me. Took me off guard.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Locus decides, and before Felix can protest, he hauls him off the floor and towards the front door.

He pauses to shove his feet into a pair of shoes and grabs his jacket off its hook. Instead of putting it on himself, he drapes it over Felix’s thin shoulders. He doesn’t want Felix to be cold, is all, he tells himself. Felix will only complain if he’s cold. 

They trudge down the hall to the elevator, Locus holding onto Felix’s arm to keep him upright. Felix doesn’t complain this time, just follows, expression subdued. Either he’s resigned himself to his fate or he’s a lot worse off than Locus originally thought. 

“Can you tell me anything about the men who attacked you?” Locus asks, hitting the button for the ground floor. 

Felix shakes his head, then winces. “No,” he says, “I don’t remember. Happened really fast.”

Locus takes a step closer to where he’s bent over, forehead pressed against the cool metal wall of the elevator. He’s obviously not, but Locus asks it anyway, “Are you alright?”

Felix’s voice is ragged. “Head hurts,” he says, “‘m’dizzy.”

The fact he’s willing to admit it is what’s most concerning. Felix is loud, and abrasive, not quiet and dull. Never vulnerable. Locus places a steadying hand on his back. “Just breathe.”

It’s a strange thing, to be so close to someone, and to be helping instead of hurting. Their job gets them into a lot of fights, he’s no stranger to getting up close and personal with someone, but it’s usually to punch that someone in the face. He feels Felix tense momentarily, and then relax.

The doors open with a soft ding, and Locus guides them outside.

Hailing a cab is easy, he’s tall enough to be seen easily and well dressed enough to look like he’ll leave a nice tip. He helps Felix clamber into the backseat and buckles up next to him. 

There seems to be an excessive amount of traffic. Locus taps his foot impatiently, wishing he could just forgo the cabbie and drive the car himself. This is taking forever. 

Felix flinches at every set of bright headlights and loud horn, huddling deeper into Locus’ jacket and turning the collar up. 

“Here,” Locus says quietly. He gently tugs on the jacket sleeve, pulling Felix towards him so his head rests against Locus’ shoulder. Felix buries his face and mumbles, “Thanks, Sam.” He sounds so miserable that Locus doesn’t even growl at him about using codenames. 

Their wait in the emergency room is brief. The doctor asks them both some questions, and then Felix is taken to a private exam room. Locus flips through a pamphlet about heart disease, thoroughly uninterested in its actual content, while he waits.

He hears Felix's voice long before he returns, sounding considerably brighter than he has all night. He rounds the corner with the doctor, waving a hand flippantly, the other holding an ice pack to the bump on his head. He's arguing with the doctor about something, what, Locus could only guess. It's Felix, he could find a way to argue with someone over the hospital's interior decorating if the urge struck him. 

The doctor wordlessly hands Locus a sheet of discharge instructions, looking very annoyed. Felix does tend to have that effect on people.

"Prick," Felix mutters after the doctor has left. 

Locus sighs, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to see Felix behaving more like himself. He's not a hundred percent, for sure, still pale and squinting at the bright lights, but he's evidently feeling well enough to sass strangers. 

"You seem better. What happened?" 

Felix rolls his eyes, wincing a little. "Said I have a concussion. Gave me some meds so my brain doesn't, I dunno, explode or something, and a prescription for more." He waves the yellow note with the doctor's signature in what Locus assumes is disgust.

"Let's go get it filled, and then we can head back to my apartment." Locus says, reading over the instructions he's been given. 

Felix looks at him like he's sprouted another head. 

"Unless you'd rather your apartment?" Locus questions tentatively. 

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't need a babysitter." 

"Yes, you do. It says right here," Locus points to number 1 on his sheet of Post Concussion Care, "someone is supposed to wake you every three hours and ask you these basic questions." 

"Let me see." Felix grabs for the paper and narrows his eyes at it. "Fuck, it hurts to read." He promptly tears the sheet in half.

Locus sighs, again. This is going to be a long night.

Felix slumps in a chair with his ice pack as Locus approaches the counter to get his meds. Locus managed to convince him that being alone is not in his best interest right now, but he's still being petulant as a child.

Maybe his current dose is wearing off, or maybe he's spent all his energy being grouchy, but Felix looks exhausted by the time they've got the pills and are climbing in a cab to return to Locus' apartment. 

"Rest," Locus tells him. "I'll wake you when we arrive." 

Reluctantly, hesitantly, Felix leans his head on Locus' shoulder. Locus tenses. He hadn't meant rest on me, but he doesn't say anything. Felix is out like a light within seconds.

It's a short drive, one that Locus spends the most of trying to look anywhere but the sleeping person on his shoulder and the cab driver's eyes. 

He pays the cabbie, jostling Felix just enough to wake him. Felix looks around blearily, confused, mumbling incoherently. The cab driver wishes Locus good luck before leaving them on the sidewalk. 

"Come on." Locus pulls Felix towards the building.

Felix stumbles into the elevator, relying heavily on the wall to keep himself upright. He sways as they exit on Locus' floor. Locus snakes an arm around his waist and holds him steady as they trudge down the hallway.

Felix, of course, decides he wants to be a pain once again.

“Cut it out,” he spits, struggling in Locus’ hold. He’s free for about two seconds until Locus has to catch him before he can topple to the floor. 

“Stop being difficult,” is all Locus says, before scooping him up entirely to carry him the rest of the way. 

Felix doesn't fight once he's in Locus' arms, in fact, he sinks into them like that's where he wanted to be in the first place. Locus sighs for what feels like (and may be) the millionth time tonight, juggling Felix as he fishes his keys out of his pocket. God, he hopes the neighbours aren't seeing this. 

He places Felix on the couch, delicately, as if he were a glass ornament. The jacket around his shoulders is replaced with a blanket, and Locus removes his shoes for him. He brings a glass of water from the kitchen and sets out the next dose of meds. Felix is already conked out by the time he returns and sets them on the coffee table. 

It's late. Locus turns the lamp off and heads to his own room. He'll be back to check on him later. 

A hand reaches out and snags his pant leg before he can leave.

"G'night, Sam," Felix mumbles.

"Goodnight."

3 hours later…..

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Felix."

"Do you know where you are?"

"Your apartment."

"Do you know what my name is?"

Felix peers out from under the blanket to glare at Locus. "Asshole," he answers. "Now let me go back to sleep already."

[tibbinswrites]

Prompt #170: Part 3

So @day-fire​ asked (fist slammed a table) for a part three and made grabby hands... how could I leave those grabby hands empty? I’ve now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #20, #33, #77, #78, #170 (part 1), (part 2), (part 3), #327 and #502 and I’ve finally completed my backlog so I’m not accepting any more prompts at this time.

Also, just in case you weren’t aware, I’m part of an incredible destiel fanfic, art and podfic anthology. Our indegogo page is live here and there are tiers ranging from simply gorgeous PDF copies and all the podfics to beautiful print books with a bunch of other merch like bookmarks and art prints. We are now FULLY FUNDED so this project is a go! Everyone who buys a printed copy of the book now shall definitely be receiving one (and hey, maybe even a hardback one if we make it to 143% funded).

So here it is. The third (and final) part to the original prompt: “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

I hope you like it ^_^ Read the first part here

Read the second part here

Before Chuck’s body even had time to cool (metaphorically of course, there hadn’t been an actual corpse left behind once Jack was through with him), Billie showed up.

“Well done,” she said in that perpetually-sarcastic-yet-somehow-still-serious tone of hers. “You actually did it. I have to admit I’m surprised, it was touch and go there for a while.”

“Okay,” Dean immediately shifted from one fight to the next as he turned to confront Death. “We followed your plan, did your thing and we won. So now, you owe us.”

Watching Billie’s face transform into shocked indignation was worth the demand all by itself.

“My thing?” She said, drawing herself up to her full height, a crackle of dark energy seemed to buzz around her for a moment. “My thing was saving the world, the world that you all live on. I believe that what you mean to say is ‘Thank you’. I owe you nothing and our alliance is done.”

“That’s not how I see it,” Dean insisted stubbornly. “You going after Chuck was more personal than doing us a solid. He was messing with your books and your big picture plan so your beef with him wasn’t exactly altruistic.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam murmured in his ear, stepping forward to grab his shoulder but Dean shook him off, his eyes only on Billie.

“Well you’ve got balls, Winchester, I’ll give you that,” she allowed, looking more amused now than anything, which Dean counted as a win because, you know, even by his standards, he knew that pissing off Death was a monumentally stupid idea. Even Sam’s presence retreated from his side, back towards Jack. “Go on then, tell me. What is it you want? Aside from… oh, I don’t know, your lives, the lives of seven billion people, your entire universe, and of course the fact that your future is your own again. Because none of that counts if my perceived motivation isn’t up to your very hypocritical standards.”

Okay, so maybe she was a little pissed. Nonetheless, Dean ploughed through, his hands balled at his sides, ignoring the warning looks from his family.

“The point is—”

“Just ask me for the favour, Dean,” Billie interrupted smoothly. “It does you no credit to be making demands with faulty logic to try and save yourself a debt. Either I’ll help you or I won’t, but I’ll be more likely to be on your side if you stop insulting me.”

Dean hesitated at that and swallowed hard. She was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. Sure, he made skeevy deals all the time that almost always backfired but at least he usually expected them to. Quid pro quo was something that he understood well. In this life you had to be willing to give a lot to get a little back. Straight up asking for help from a cosmic entity though? That was new, humiliating territory. He had nothing that she wanted from him anymore. He could ask, hell, he could beg, but he knew as well as she did that he had no leverage to stop her from just walking away.

“I want Cas freed of his deal.”

“Dean!” That was Cas, stepping forward, his face filled with compassion and gratitude as he moved into Dean’s line of sight and Dean’s face flooded with heat that Cas could look at him that way, that Cas could still look at him that way. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Dean said, dragging his eyes back to Billie, who was watching them carefully. “I got nothin’ to bargain with, you know that. You don’t want our lives or souls or whatever. Chuck’s already dead and you don’t care if we’re happy or not. I’m just asking, please. Break the deal.”

Billie considered him for a long time, her dark eyes taking him in, taking in Cas and then she was looking past them to where Sam and Jack probably stood before falling back on him. He briefly wondered what she saw… she didn’t like him all that much he was sure and if he had learned anything about her it was that she didn’t do anything that contradicted with whatever her big picture was. What Dean was asking was a pretty heavy shift of the way the stage had been set. But he couldn’t let her just leave without taking what might be his only shot to save the man he loved.

Finally, Billie sighed and took a step back, her grip shifting on her scythe.

“I can’t.”

Dean tried not to wilt, resolutely did not look at Cas. He didn’t want Cas to see the apology in his eyes, the failure.

The entire room was still, not even the dust motes seemed to move. Which was ironic really considering the fact that the world Dean had just helped save was starting to fracture around him.

Dean felt a warm hand on his arm then and a soft voice in his ear.

“Dean, it’s alright.”

“No!” He turned on Cas with all the fury he wanted to direct at Billie, at the Empty. “It’s not alright! How can you just stand there and tell me that you’re fine with being miserable for the rest of your life? How can you justify that? How can you?” he jabbed an accusing finger at Billie, who stared back, impassive in the face of his rage. “After what he’s done for this world, and his part in your plan—which was freaking huge by the way, he did way more than any of us—how can you just stand there and tell me that he doesn’t deserve to be happy?!”

“Deserve has nothing to do with it,” Billie told him calmly. “I told you, I can’t break the deal, because I wasn’t the one to make it. I can, however, make a call.”

And with that, her eyes rolled up into her skull, leaving the blank whites staring out at them all. Disconcerted, Dean glanced around at the others. Cas was still next to him, his presence solid, his eyes almost hopeful. Sam had herded Jack nearer the door in case they needed to bolt, though Dean knew that was more for appearance and instinct’s sake, neither of them were going anywhere, no matter how hairy things got. Jack was staring at Billie, looking pleased if not relaxed. Sam’s eyes met his and Dean wasn’t surprised by the conflict he saw there. He felt it too. He knew as well as Sam did that if he put all his hopes in this and it didn’t pan out, it would destroy him. Sam would back his play, of course he would, he wanted Cas to be happy and safe as much as Dean did, but Dean could see the deep concern there that he knew wasn’t for Cas. He looked away, back to Billie, whose irises were slowly sliding back into place, and the growing puddle of darkness that was beginning to materialise on the concrete floor.

Dean watched, feeling increasingly sick as the black, liquid-looking substance bubbled and rose and solidified into a vaguely humanoid form. There was no face, which was disconcerting as all hell, and the thing’s limbs were just a little too long and… wobbly to be truly human. It was making his brain fuzz over just looking at it. He felt Cas’ grip tighten on his arm.

“What do you want now?” The thing whined, it’s non-face turned in Billie’s direction. It’s voice was perhaps the most surprising thing about it, it was high pitched and nasal (which was impressive considering the thing’s lack of nose) with a slant to the words that Dean couldn’t place. He supposed ‘afterlife dimension’ came with its own accent.

“The angel wants out of his deal,” Billie said. “The humans wish to make what I’m sure will either be a heartfelt plea or some kind of threat.”

“You called me for that? Isn’t this over? Hmmm... I have God and His sister all nicely tucked away and sleeping. Why am I still awake?”

“Look...” Dean said to the goo-creature, and the head swivelled around on a too-loose neck. He stared at where he thought the eyes should be, trying not to be creeped out by the fact he had no idea if his gaze was being returned or not. He also wasn’t sure what tack to try here. He had no more leverage over this thing than he did the Grim Reaper, would it respect a strong stance or was grovelling the way to go? He would do it, if that’s what it took to let Cas live the rest of his life chasing joy. Hell, he would get down on his knees if it meant that he could finally return the words Cas had voiced not three weeks ago. His mind was spinning, but coming up a blank.

So Sam stepped up, taking slow, measured steps to stand at Dean’s other shoulder. “You’ve helped us out before, done Jack a solid when you let him come back and we appreciate that. We also know that you’ve got some issues with Cas and we’d really like to resolve those so that… so you don’t take him.”

“Yeah,” Jack piped up, moving to Cas’ other side. “We’d really rather he stay with us. Without giving up his happiness.”

“Cas is the main reason you still have a place to go back to,” Dean added. “Can’t you just give him a pass? More than anyone he’s earned that.”

“The little shit woke me up!” The creature screeched at them out of its non-mouth. “I haven’t been woken up in the history of ever until that feathered moron came along. All he had to do was sleep, yes, and he couldn’t even do that! So I’m taking him when I damn well please. I gave up my legitimate claim to you, nephilim, just to squeeze out every drop of revenge. You think I’ll go back on that now? Oh, no, no, no, not when the due date is so close, am I right?”

Dean blinked, suddenly getting the feeling that the Empty had stopped talking to them at some point and had started addressing Cas, who he felt perfectly still beside him.

“Am I right, angel?” The thing cooed, “You almost have your happy, don’t you? You’re holding it back by a mere membrane. And now it stands right next to you and tries to get me to change my mind. That has to be nice… seeing how he cares. How they all care.”

Cas said nothing, but in a quick glance Dean saw his lips press together, his eyes lower. The submission hurt Dean more than any outburst of rage at this creature who had stolen all the things that people lived for, everything that Cas had fallen for and given so much of himself to protect. It wasn’t fair that he was now just as cut off from it as when he was a mindless automaton. He should be angry.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me,” he said, still looking down at the floor. “But if this deal breaks, Jack’s soul is forfeit, and I can’t—”

“No it’s not.”

Every head turned to look at Billie, who was the picture of nonchalance, except for the gleam in her eye. “Jack’s soul will go to heaven.”

The Empty spluttered. “I think you’ll find nephilim are my jurisdiction.”

“They are,” Billie agreed, “but Jack’s not a nephilim anymore. Is he?”

Dean gaped in Jack’s direction. The kid frowned, then looked like he was concentrating really hard on something, and then surprise lit his features. “I’m human?”

“Your power was what was needed to defeat God,” Billie explained. “The exact amount of your power. No more, no less. It was never really yours anyway, it was inherited from your father. But you disowned him and chose a father of your own.” She nodded towards Castiel. “That severed the power from you, made your human soul separate from the archangel grace. In reality, Chuck was fighting two of you, Jack, and He was only able to destroy one. Of course, He thought the one worth destroying was the one with the power, leaving you as the other. Pure human. Which,” she smiled at the Empty, “is my jurisdiction.”

If the Empty had a face, Dean was pretty sure it would be glaring fire at Billie. “You’re on their side?” It screeched. Dean winced at the piercing volume. “You want me to break the deal. What? Are you going to keep me awake until I obey, yes? You can’t pull that lever twice, Reaper. I helped you with the old man and the dark one all on the promise that once this was over you’d let me sleep and I know you to be a being of your word.”

“You’re right,” Billie said evenly. “I will keep my promise, regardless of whether or not you help the angel. But I would prefer it if you did. As a favour.” Her eyes flicked briefly to Dean’s at that and a newfound well of respect for Billie threatened to spill out of his dumb mouth. He swallowed it back. He was pretty sure she could see his gratitude. She had already helped them by calling the Empty here, and it would have been more than fair for her to leave them to do the convincing, which he was pretty sure wouldn’t have worked on its own.

The Empty seemed to consider that; clearly weighing the benefit of having Death owe it one against whatever pleasure it would gain from torturing Cas. The decision took far longer than Dean was comfortable with and something snapped in him at the tense silence. His hand found Cas’ and he held it tight, ignoring the surprised look that melted into fondness on his left. He felt a hand land on his opposite shoulder and looked up into Sam’s face. There was a soft smile there, and pride, but there was a twitch in his eyebrow that begged him not to entwine himself so deep that he couldn’t disentangle himself if this all went to shit. Dean couldn’t bring himself to tell him that it was far, far too late for that.

“Hmmm...” The Empty said. “Well… There it is. Looks like Castiel just cashed in his happy.”

Dean’s head snapped around. Cas was looking at him, beaming really. His eyes glittering in the low light, radiant in a way that was different from his grace and far more beautiful. The hand in his gave a gentle squeeze, though there was fear in those eyes now, his moment of pure joy eclipsed by the fact that this could all be gone with his next blink. Dean brought his other hand around to clasp their already joined ones, as if he could just hold tight enough, then nothing could make him let go.

Seeing Cas afraid was like an icy fingertip sliding down his spine. He turned back to the Empty, readying himself to throw a punch or to prostrate himself on the ground and beg, or start another goddamn apocalypse just to draw the fear from those blue, bottomless eyes. It couldn’t end like this, not when they were on the precipice of whatever this promised to be, not when they could finally, finally start living for themselves.

“Please,” Dean said, his voice thick and unwieldy in his mouth. “Please let him stay with me.”

The creature hummed again, an irritating sound that buried into his skull. “Alright.”

It flicked one of its (too bendy) arms in Cas’ direction and the angel cried out in pain, dropping to the floor like a sack of bricks and dragging Dean down too where their hands were still clasped.

“Cas!” Dean yelled as Cas began a low moan that rose in volume and pitch and agony until it was a scream, and then his back arched so dramatically Dean heard it crack, and Cas’ eyes widened to the point of popping. In the next painful convulsion, Cas ripped his hand away from Dean’s.

“Cas!” Dean cried again, scrambling to get it back, to offer what little comfort he could. If these were going to be Cas’ last moments, Dean couldn’t bear the thought that he would have to endure them alone.

Cas’ lips were moving, but all that was escaping was a wordless scream. Dean shook his head, not understanding as Cas’ agitation only grew. He looked around at each member of his family crouched next to him, and terror dominated his expression.

“Eyes!” The word was strangled. “Help—”

Suddenly, the sound of Cas’ screams cut out at the same moment the world turned black. Dean’s vocal chords strained around Cas’ name, around Sam’s name, but he couldn’t hear either. He felt Cas in front of him, writhing and solid and silent, felt the hard concrete under his knees, felt the fabric of a jacket as he reached out blindly with his other hand. But all he saw was blackness. Fear roared inside him. He couldn’t see his family, he didn’t know what was happening to Cas. Had he gone blind? Deaf? Was Cas looking to him for a final comfort?

Worst of all was when Cas’ hand went limp.

Dean was pretty sure he was losing his mind. He was sure he was screaming, sure he was yelling himself hoarse, cursing the Empty, Billie, God. He dropped his hand from what he was pretty sure was Sam’s shoulder and moving it to his own face. He felt wetness there, sweat or tears he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Cas wasn’t moving and he had no idea what to do except clutch that hand in between both his own and hope.

Just as suddenly as it had vanished, sound returned. He heard his own name in Sam’s voice and a moment later, his brother’s scared face materialised in front of him, and Jack was there too, his own face pale and scrunched in confusion and discomfort as he shook himself. There was also a horrible, burbling sound that it took him far too long to realise was coming from him. He took a deep breath to stop it and looked over at where the Empty and Billie had been stood.

They were gone.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked, his voice raspy and worn out.

“No idea,” Sam said, looking a little ill. “But it really sucked.”

“Yeah.” As the adrenaline leaked away from his brain, leaving his extremities tingling, he flexed his hand and found he was still holding onto something.

Cas!

With a jolt, Dean looked at the still figure lying on the ground. His eyes were closed and there were black shapes on the floor extending from his shoulders.

“No,” He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut again, flashbacks of a cabin, of another joyous moment turned to ash, of a grief so heavy he’d buckled under it the first time, how could anyone ask him to even lift it now?

He heard Sam swallow next to him, clearly floundering for whatever words he thought Dean needed to hear.

He heard Jack’s breath hitch, then. “Wait. Look!”

Dean blinked heavily. Jack was staring at the black marks, then he reached forward and picked up a feather. Four inches long and inky black, the thing gleamed in the poor light. Despite the urgent pleas of his heart, Dean looked more closely at what he had assumed to be just scorch marks. There were more feathers. Loads of them, filling in gaps in the patchy outlines of Cas’ wings. They were how Cas’ wings had looked the last time Dean had seen their shadows; there weren’t enough feathers to make the wings complete, Cas had shed plenty over the years after all, but there were still dozens of them. All the feathers Cas had had left, if Dean were to guess. He didn’t know what to make of it and although he could hear Sam’s brain whirring as it tried to put the pieces together, Dean couldn’t quite bring himself to care what it meant. He leaned over Cas and smoothed the hair back from his forehead, numbness crawling its way along Dean’s limbs and tightening around his nerves. He arranged the body how he would if the pyre was already built, pretty sure someone was talking around him but unable to take any of it in. He adjusted the coat, laid Cas’ hands carefully by his sides, fixed the tie.

While he did that last one, his hand passed over Cas’ chest and he felt a flutter beneath his fingertips. He paused for a second and felt it again. Hope surged through him so fast it was painful. He pressed his palm to Cas’ chest and waited. Please, please, please, please, please.

Thump.

“He’s alive!”

Dean began to gently tap his fingers against Cas’ cheek, calling for him over and over again, his other hand feeling the steady, human beat of Cas’ heart.

“Come on, sweetheart, wake up.”

Cas groaned, the most wonderful sound that had ever graced Dean’s ears. All the air escaped him as Cas began to twitch, his eyelids fluttered and he blinked them open.

“I love you too,” Dean blurted out, physically unable to keep the words in any more. “I love you so freaking much Cas, and I’m real glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too,” Cas said blearily, pushing himself to a sitting position, only to be bowled over again by Dean launching himself into his arms. Corny or not he couldn’t help it. He needed to hold him, surround himself in Cas’ warmth and Cas’ smell and Cas’ love. He needed to feel the life around them. “You make me very happy, Dean.”

Dean said nothing, but he shoved his face in closer to Cas’ neck.

After a few moments he deemed himself recovered enough to pull back and help Cas to his unsteady feet. Jack moved in for the next hug and Cas’ eyes went soft with wonder as he embraced his son, finally allowed to feel the joy that such a gesture brought. Sam was next, pulling him into a sasquatch-worthy bone-crushing hug and whispering something that Dean couldn’t catch, though their grins were bright and a little teary as they separated.

Cas then looked down at the feathers scattered on the ground and bent to gather a few. “Angel feathers can be useful spell ingredients,” he said by way of an explanation as he stuffed them into his coat pocket. “And it’s not as though I have a use for them anymore.”

“You know, we could try and find a way… if you wanted...” Dean started to offer, and even though Dean wasn’t sure if the Empty had completely destroyed Cas’ grace or what and had no idea how to even start that quest, he knew with certainty that he would find a way if that was what Cas chose.

Cas was already shaking his head, a small smile on his lips.

“No. I think… I think I’m tired of being an angel. I don’t want to watch humanity anymore, I want to be a part of it. I want to enjoy this, every moment that I get to love and be loved in return is a treasure I never could have imagined before I met you.”

“So… home?” Dean asked, more than ready to start building the rest of his life with his brother, his son and this newly-human man who had never looked like more of an angel to him.

Cas nodded and reached for him, slotting their fingers together.

“Home.”

[justjessame]

The Deal Chapter 25

Walkers would always be an issue in our new world. Always. So I wasn’t shocked when we learned that there was a quarry nearby serving as the world’s worst fishbowl.

After the night of no return, when Reg and Pete met their ends, we tried to find a new normal. Daryl and Dad butted heads, even with or especially because Daryl showed up with Morgan beside him. Dad wanted to halt recruitment. Daryl wanted to keep it up.

Dad had housed Morgan in the empty house that Deanna had placed him after his brawl with the good doctor. Prior to having her approval to ventilate his skull, that is.

Pete, an asshole if I’d ever heard of one, was denied a community burial. And that’s how Dad, and recently released Morgan, had come to find the quarry. They came back, with news and a plan. Dad insisted I sit in on it. He was trying, I could clearly see, to get me involved again. Back to the good old days, where I didn’t have to pretend I cared.

I listened to the plan, which seemed solid, if nothing went wrong. I heard the volunteers give not only approval, but willing bodies to throw in the line of fire or teeth. Divert the herd west, away from Alexandria. Simple, right? Eugene added the need for a wall, where a crucial intersection apparently was. I’d have to leave that to the experts, or at least to people who paid attention to our surroundings. Carter, a whiny little toad if I’d had to guess, was given that important task.

And the entire community, like an old fashioned barn raising, but with greater chance of death, came out to help. I offered Carol help with refreshments. Why not? We were obviously the most alike of this entire group.

Walkers, again, a constant threat, showed up for the party. And Dad, trying to prove his point to an extreme level, warned all of us his original group to back off, it was time for Alexandrians to defend Alexandria. Morgan, after seeing Carter freeze faster than a drip of water in the arctic, stepped up and took care of the ‘threat’.

As the time grows near for the plan to go through, Dad lines up his volunteers at the finish line, and I stay back. This is not my part to play. I have another safer role.

Carol bakes. A lot. And after a trip to the community pantry, I sit with her in the kitchen and keep her company. We're looking out the window when we see something so fucking surreal that it takes both of us a few beats to make it make sense in our heads. A neighbor woman, standing outside for a smoke, is ambushed by a horrible man wielding a machete. And as we’re transfixed by the impossibility, he finishes the job and runs off.

Sharing a look, we both call up to Carl and when he pops his head around, we order him to stay inside, keep Judith safe and lock the damn doors.

Together, outside, Carol and I watch these new enemies. I know we’re both seeing the same thing and making a similar plan. We’re that much alike, right? I know she’s taken note of how they look. How they seem to be marking their foreheads with fresh blood in the shape of a “W”. And as we part, going separate directions, I know that she’ll be finding a way to camouflage herself, because I already am.

The killing of savages, walker or human, comes back to me like riding a bike. Or breathing. Natural. And I don’t flinch as I cut each one that I come across down. Or when I put a member of the community out of their misery. Consequences for one, mercy for the other. I’d taken one of the beast's ugly poncho for my own, and my forehead had his blood in that ugly sign.

When I found Carol again, there was a second of danger for both of us, until we took a beat and nodded. I had been right, she’d done the same as me. I watched as she saved Morgan, and then she led the way to the armory. Olivia, the woman who kept track of supplies looked like we were there to kill her, which meant our disguises worked.

As Carol loaded up a duffel full of weapons and ammo, I took the time to give Olivia the briefest, but most concise firearm training ever. Showing her how to release the safety, point it, and shoot. And telling her, as I followed Carol out, to shoot anyone who came inside.

Carol killed a prisoner that Morgan felt the urge to take. He shot me a look, and I backed her up. This was NOT the time for amnesty.

By the time everything was quiet again, or mostly quiet. Carnage was everywhere. And I was reminded that there was no magical safety zone. That nowhere was safe.

When a call goes up that Dad is heading back, I rush toward the gate. He barely makes it inside, the herd hard on his heels, but he swears to me, as he sees me in front of him that he’s SURE that Daryl, Sasha, and Abraham will be heading back to continue the plan. But until then, as the walkers are heard growling and thrashing against the gate, we’re to keep the lights off or low, and the noise to a minimum.

I hear that there was an attempt at looting. That Deanna’s surviving son put a stop to it.

I try to find Maggie. She should be here. She hadn’t signed up for any of the mess that had been planned. When I find her, she looks terrified, and upset. Which, learning that Glenn is MIA makes sense. But then, holding my hand and staring into my face the real reason comes out. She’s pregnant. And as I hug her and try to reassure her, she tries to find humor by telling me that she accidentally told Aaron first.

While we wait for Glenn to return, for Daryl, Sasha, Abraham to show back up. I watch as Dad takes Jessie’s son Ron under his tutelage for gun training. Rosita offers machete lessons. And Dad insists on added supports for the newly built wall.

And then, just as things seemed to grow slightly quieter, the watchtower fell, taking down part of the perimeter wall. And another swarm of walkers rushing forward. While Dad orders sheltering in place with the doors locked, I’m visiting Jessie. Forcing myself to reintegrate with the world, and letting Judith see the inside of a different house, I’m there when Dad carries Deanna inside. She’s been injured, and as I’m checking her wound, I find it. The bite. And we all know.

Deanna takes death better than she’d taken the other harsh realities of this world. She smiles. She makes jokes. Hell, she even banters when Dad nearly shoots her as she’s hovering over Judith’s crib.

And as we’re watching, the locks don’t hold. The walkers rush inside, and we’re trapped upstairs with a dying Deanna, and a couch blocking the stairs. Dad, assessing the situation, makes a plan so gross that I want to vomit, but if it keeps Judith safe I’m game. Killing two walkers, and cutting into them, we create our very own meat suits. Covering sheets with the gloppy insides of the undead, then covering our clothes and heads with the sheets, we should be able to get away.

I’ve tucked Judith under my shirt, against my skin, hoping that she’ll understand the need for quiet somehow. And I tugged the sheet over top of me, wanting to retch at the smell enveloping me. Michonne had given Deanna a gun, offering to do it for her, but giving in when she insisted she’d do it. And then, covered in gore and gross, we walked downstairs and outside, into the middle of the mass of dead.

The growling and stumbling jostled us, but eventually we made it to the armory. Sam, Jessie’s youngest had incessantly called for her, and I’d been sure we’d be caught, but we made it. Dad asked Gabriel to keep me and Judith safe, cutting off any argument I may have made. And while Jessie tried to convince Sam to stay with me, he wouldn’t, and they all left. Headed for the quarry, I sat in the church, cradling Judith and soothing her after our tent of stink was gone. The growling was growing closer, and I knew they were piling up again outside, but Gabriel shocked me. He picked up a machete, and with Tobin who’d found sanctuary inside with us, rushed out to help.

It grew quiet after what seemed like days. And once I was certain the danger was manageable if not passed, I opened the doors. And Michonne was rushing toward me. The news was terrible. Carl had been shot. Again. We rushed to the infirmary, where she took Judith from me and I walked inside. Daryl was being stitched on his back on one side, and Carl lay unconscious on the other. And I stood between them, feeling the temptation of the darkness of nowhere beckon to me to come back.

[the-magic-lava-lamp]

Friends With Benefits Play Truth or Drink - Sam & Bucky

Summary: Based off this Youtube series. Sam & Bucky, friends with benefits, must choose between the cold hard truth or a nice drink....

Words:  3,895

Ship: SamBucky (Modern AU - No powers)

—Cut—-

“On the count of three, name who likes who more?” Sam flicked the card between his fingers and with a roll of his eyes, took a peek towards the men behind the camera. As if he hadn’t agreed to film this video.

“1....2...”

Bucky opened his mouth with a small bashful smile-

—Cut—-

Bucky Barnes anxiously bounced his leg and waited for the ‘ok’ to start their introduction. It was Tony Stark (of course) who’d originally pulled them into filming this video. He’d been funding some kids project and the guy was so grateful that he offered Tony a fun part in a video he was doing for a small media company. Tony found that he loved the thing and suggested his good ol’ buddies come in too. Bucky suspected it was the fun aspect of pulling secrets outta people on camera that appealed to the man. 

Blaine, the camera man, stood with a small grin behind a large camera and waved his thumbs up above.

“I’m Bucky.”

“I’m Sam, I’m a Virgo.” His companion smiled at him from across the small table filled with some nice choices of alcohol. “And we’re friends with benefits-”

{Blaine, the director, off camera: “What are the benefits?” }

Bucky looked off to the other side of the room as if he were a teenager again and attempted to avoid answering by putting his face into his cupped hands. But this only tossed the chance over to Sam, who could put intelligent sentences together so beautifully when he wanted to-

“Great sex.” Sam could barely get that out without succumbing to a childlike giggle fit.

Bucky rolled his eyes but smiled, nonetheless. 

{Blaine: “How well do you know each other?”}

Bucky lifted his face and turned casually on his chair, like none of this really mattered and he was just plopping down for a normal lunch. “We’ve known each other since we were....” He gazed off and tapped his fingers to the table.

“Nineteen.” Sam nodded. “I met Steve,our mutual friend, during my freshman year of college. Bucky was his childhood best friend, right? So Steve was really hoping we’d get along when he finally introduced us.” 

Bucky chuckled deeply and rolled his lips together. “And really hated each other.” 

{Blaine, off camera: *Laughing* “Why?” }

Both men perked up like the topic was one of their favorites. 

“I was threatened by him.” 

Both of them spoke at the same time and earned a good five minutes of laughing. 

“That and he was really annoying.” Sam added, turning directly to the camera for the first time. Though he immediately looked off, deciding it was too weird. 

“He lived in his Van and spoke a maximum amount of six words to me whenever we had to hang out.” Sam gently slapped the man’s left hand which was curled on the table with a bit of a tight grip. Bucky was still carrying some insecurities involving his prosthetic arm. 

“We basically bickered 24/7.” Bucky smiled as if that were a sweet thing to say. “But it was our thing. S’how we got closer, actually.” He shrugged. 

{Blaine: “So you’re saying, hating each-other first was the secret to a good friendship?”}

“Yeah! So not only could I tell you where his moles are but I could also reveal all of his deep, dark childhood secrets which he told me as a friend.” Bucky winked and chuckled again which was always a wonderful sound. “My first real friend besides Steve.” 

Their story was true. They had in fact been ‘Friends-with-benefits’ on & off for quite some time now. It had become something so natural and normal to their relationship. So much so that Sam almost forgot how it had been during those early days...almost.

It still shocked Sam how often Bucky could throw him off with comments like that. They came pretty few and far between but Bucky was a weird little shit when you got down to it. Behind all the mystery and charm was a true oddball. It was probably the reason why he’d drawn so much interest in the female gender. A lot of girls had adored him in the past and yeah, Bucky would flirt his ass off and all that jazz, but his chaotic personality would eventually take over.

—Cut—-

“Alright. I’m going first.” Sam  smiled and reached over to the pile of question cards that Bucky had sort of been anxious about. It was as if Sam had sensed his friends hesitation. 

He watched the reflection of his arm in the nearest alcohol bottle on the table and enjoyed the chilled breeze of air that came with Sam’s retraction. “Man, this is a classy way to start.” He smacked the card with the back of his hand. 

“Where’s the weirdest place we’ve ever had sex?”

Bucky smirked. “Let’s go with the time that we did it in the backseat of Tony’s car. Remember? He was away and asked me to back it into his garage. Which was just a bad idea on his part-” Bucky turned back to the camera and pointed sharply. “Tony, sorry you had to find out this way.” He chuckled. 

{Blaine: “Why was Sam with you if all you had to do was back it up?”}

“Dude’s gotta a nice car. I wanted to be there in case Bucky decided to go on a joy-ride.” Sam rolled his eyes and turned back towards him with the widest grin. “He’s mischievous like that.”  

Sam blinked a few times and tried to play-off the admiring smile but the camera picked it up quite clearly. “There’s also the time we did it at that Roller-Rink..in the bathroom and you thought it’d be sexy to keep the skates on.” Sam shivered at the memory.

“That was a good one.” Bucky grinned. “Oh, but more recently, what about the time in Steve’s childhood bedroom?” He could barely finish without breaking out into easily spread giggles. “Damn. I really hope he doesn’t watch this.” He bit back another laugh, knowing full well that was a dumb-ass thing to wish for considering Steve was the number one fan of this video idea. 

Sam shook his head. “Oh, but what about the time-”

{Blaine, laughing: “You guys gotta move to the next question”}

“Ok, ok.” Bucky reached over to the pile of cards and willed it to be something just as ridiculous as what Sam got. Part of him had thought the whole video could be a fun little thing to do but the other part of him was kicking himself for agreeing.

He turned the card over and felt a sharp sense of relief shoot through his gut and chest. He didn’t even fucking know if he wanted to hear the answer or not but at least it wasn’t something heavy. 

“How would you rate my sex skills out of ten?” The card was laid back onto the table with gentle nerve twitching hands. It was a funny question, but it was also something Bucky was suddenly nervous about. 

Sam pursed his lips and hummed just to annoy his friend. “I’m feeling pretty generous today...” He smiled, that special kind that was reserved only for teasing Bucky. “So, a fair three.”

Bucky kicked his leg from under the table like he was angry but he was more upset, if anything. He had to know it was a joke and in a sense, he did. But he was also easily insecure. “You’re not serious, are you?” 

Sam widened his eyes. “No, of course not.” He began to chuckle to himself. “I’d rate you a ten on your eyes alone, Buck.” 

Bucky tilted his chin, trying to hide a bashful smile. “Not this again.” He shook his head, the game of embarrassment was on. 

Sam was smirking like a champion. “Those steel blue eyes, man.” He gestured. “Looking into them really centers you, calms you even.” His voice was dead serious but occasionally wiggled with laughter when Bucky shook his head. “Show the camera Bucky-” Sam laughed. “Give the people a stare-”

“Sorry, I don’t know what he’s doing.” Bucky smiled again and looked toward the camera. 

{Blaine, laughing again: “What would you rate him, Bucky?”}

Sam immediately and seamlessly fell back into a lounge position and crossed his arms over his chest. “Go ahead, I’m not afraid.” 

Bucky opened his mouth-

“Let me tell you something-” Sam interrupted him and laid his elbow on the table to gesture to the camera again. Bucky’s laughter mixed with the directors once again. “He’s gonna joke with you, that’s his thing. I shouldn’t have embarrassed him-”

Bucky giggled. “Let me tell you something, doll.” He returned the interruption. “You’ll wanna hear my rating.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, gentle smirk present. Sam made a ‘go-ahead’ gesture and made a show of listening. 

“I’d rate you a...nine.” Bucky hide his smile behind a curled fist. Sam opened his mouth to comment but was quickly stopped. “I like nicknames during sex!” Bucky raised his chin and spoke that to the ceiling all while chuckling. 

 “Well, I like saying you’re name, Bucky.” Sam shrugged, as if that comment just came to him naturally. 

Bucky had been preparing for a little fun ‘back-and-forth’ but found himself trying to will away a blush. 

—Cut—-

Sam turned back to the table and picked a new card. “Oh, this is a good one to answer-...What are the terms of this relationship?” he set the card down and watched Bucky swallow a sip of one of the drinks. 

He cleared his throat and leaned back. “It’s always been the kinda deal where...” Bucky let his hand float over the table. “We just kinda fall together-? It happens when it happens.” He swiped his tongue over his teeth in thought. 

“We're just really into each other but there’s no strings attached. Never have been.” He scratched at the back of his neck and hoped that made sense. He didn’t want to come across as a dumb-ass.

He didn’t seem to notice the way Sam fluttered his eyes down to the floor and bit into his lip but once again...the camera did.

—Cut—-

So it was Bucky’s turn again to reach into the pile of cards. But just as soon as he read what he’d have to ask Sam, his casual act dropped for a moment as genuine amusement took over. “You can drink because I already know your answer to this.” He set the card down and leaned forward, elbows curled on the table.

{Blaine: “You gotta read the card, Bucky!”}

The director’s voice was teasing and gentle. He rolled his eyes and picked it up again. “What is something you’d like to change about me?”

There was a silent communication exchange then...or at least, it was attempted. The boys tried not to voice their words, seemingly because it was something amusing...or maybe serious?

“I’d like for you to be a little more open to sharing...” Sam’s tone wobbled as he tried his best not to slip into his therapeutic voice. “Concerning you know, your problems with communicating your problems with mental health” Sam rolled his lips together and never broke eye contact. 

He hoped that was the most gentle way to phrase it, considering they were playing a drinking game on camera. “Little by little, you know? Never more than you’re comfortable with...” Sam shrugged. 

{Blaine: “What would you change about him, Bucky?”}

He was clearly trying to keep the room calm and give them both a fair shot at the heavy question.

“I would change...” Bucky licked his lips and frowned. “I don’t know the word for it...but the way you’re blind to your own pain.” He felt the back of his shoulders twitch with anxiety. “You want to help me with my problems or Steve with his. So you end up almost too busy with other people that you forget about yourself. And what you’re dealing with.”

Sam nodded, taking in all the words with an openness that was just so natural to him. It was a trait of his that Bucky had always admired. Sam Wilson had no problem talking about delicate issues or his problems. What he had a problem with was taking care of himself first. 

Bucky briefly wondered if that had turned into a fight, would Blaine have gladly filmed and posted that?

—Cut—-

Sam and Bucky scooted close to the table once again, looking much more relaxed.

Sam reached forward and stole a card with a small smile.“On the count of three, name who likes who more?” He flicked the card between his fingers and with a roll of his eyes, took a peek towards the men behind the camera. As if he hadn’t agreed to film this video.

“1....2...3”

Bucky opened his mouth with a small bashful smile-

At the exact same moment, both spoke their answers.

“Me.”

“Me.”

{Blaine: “Wow, you have come a long way from hating each-other, huh?”}

The two men paused to give each other a little look before bursting into fits of laughter.

Sam came back from throwing his head back and mocked a frown. “Dude, don’t lie. You gotta know that it’s me. I’m always the one who suggests getting together and...y’know.”

Bucky shook his head in that jovial yet shy way that Sam adored so much. That blushed smile was on his face too. It always reminded Sam of a reserved cat jumping on one's lap. “But I’m so clingy! You invite me over to...do our thing. And I end up staying for like a fucking week.”

Sam had to chuckle once more. He did love that about the other man. 

“I’m the one who made the first move, sweetheart.” Bucky added that as a mumbled afterthought just to get Sam’s goat. 

Sam exaggerated a gasp. “You did not! I did! You’re getting cocky, man. Trying to claim all the cute shit in this...” he paused to think “thing.” he gestured between them. “As your own. But you were way to shy to ‘make a move’.”  

They were pretty sure Blaine wasn’t going to keep their whole play-fighting session in the video but nonetheless, they kept their little game up for as long as they could before moving on.

—Cut—-

Bucky chose his next card and wondered if either of them were ever going to jump outta answering a question with one of those drinks anytime soon. He read over the question and tried to hide another fucking blush. “Would you ever want to have a threesome with me?” He slid it away and hid his face. 

“No.” Sam shook his head a few times, crossing his arms and smiling. 

“Great answer.” Bucky leaned back on his chair and let go of a relieved chuckle. 

{Blaine: “Not for you guys? Why’s that?”}

“Take that one, doll.” Bucky smiled. 

“First of all, Bucky and I like music for...atmosphere.” Sam gestured and let his hands fall next to the line of drinks. He glanced over the table to his friend and found it hard to resist a grin. “We’re very particular on the soundtrack. Adding another person would-...” He wiggled his hand around chaotically. 

“Midnight with the stars and you...” Bucky mumbled, in the voice of some old timey crooner, just for his friend. 

Sam burst into laughter. “See, he got me into having sex with that creepy song from ‘The Shining’! No one else would be into that.” Sam took a quick drink for fun and swiped under his chin. “I’m more of an Earth, Wind & Fire guy, myself.” He shrugged and leaned back. 

“I think we’d just annoy a third person.” Bucky giggled, behind his curled fist. After a few seconds, he started up that ol’ singing voice again. “Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the ole oak tree...”

{Blaine: “Really? That song?”} 

Sam and Bucky just continued to laugh.

—Cut—-

Sam flicked his next card between his fingers a few times before reading it aloud, stomach a little tight with curiosity. “Does it hurt your feelings when I sleep with someone who isn't you?” He asked softly before setting it down. 

Bucky fluttered his eyelashes and swallowed. His eyes spoke volumes of stress and anxiety that Sam could read quite clearly. For a moment or two, it looked as if Bucky might take a drink instead of answering (which was basically an answer itself, in Sam’s opinion) but thought better. “To my knowledge, you haven’t slept with anyone else since before my accident?” Bucky nervously fiddled with his left arm.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t.” He gave Bucky a small smile. 

There was a few seconds of quiet. 

{Blaine: “If you don’t mind Bucky, how did this accident happen? You don’t have to answer.”}

Bucky shrugged, he expected that question to come up. “Well, I lived in my Van for a while cause I wasn’t going to school and I liked to travel. I always figured it’d be easier to get away in that situation. And Steve was going to school...without me, which was kinda hard for me.” He explained. 

“But more time passed and I just kept hanging around & working jobs. Then I met Sam.” Bucky tipped his head in Sam’s direction. “And another excuse was born. I didn’t want anyone stealing by best friend while I was gone, childish I know.” He pursed his lips. “Steve somehow got a parking pass for his & Sam’s building for my van so that I could keep parking there.” 

The disappointment in himself was clear. Sam gently kicked his leg, which earned a little smile. “My van is where Sam made the first move.” He blushed a little before frowning. “Anyway, that’s all unnecessary background.” 

Bucky was 100% most of this would be cut, so he felt a little less anxious. “During their Junior Year, I was driving over to their place and some big-ass truck totally blew a red light and smashed into my Van. Lost my arm, my ride and my home.” Bucky chuckled like he could laugh about it now. 

Sam gestured for a little break-

—Cut—-

Bucky looked much happier as he picked another card. “I’m gonna lighten’ things up, promise.” He gave a charming smile but not before looking at Sam for a few moments. 

“F-...This is embarrassing” Bucky hid his face in his hands which only served Sam the option to reach out and pull his arms away.

“Go on! Read your question. It’s what you signed up for.” Sam happily leaned back on his chair.

“Read the last booty-call I sent you.” Bucky mumbled, clearly blushing in pure embarrassment. Sam giggled and slid out his phone.

“Is it that embarrassing though? You don’t really send them all too often.” Sam began scrolling through their conversations, Bucky following along on his own device just to prepare himself. “I'm the one who does that.”

Bucky shrugged. “I like it that way.” He winked, though they both knew it was because he could be so utterly shy sometimes. 

He completely missed the amused yet admiring glance from Sam. “Ok. You read one of mine instead.” He shook himself out of his frozen little moment of pure adoration with a dazzling smile.

Bucky chuckled. “Nah, no...find one of mine.” He insisted and continued to scroll on his own phone. 

“This is my personal favorite text I’ve ever received.” Sam smacked a hand to his chest. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Let’s have sex after I get back from the Deli....” Sam held up a finger. “And he then adds, two minutes later-” He smirked. “But I was just at the dentist about an hour ago...so my mouth might still be numb from the wisdom tooth he just pulled & I might get blood on your dick.”

Sam could barely hold himself together by the end. He curled over and laughed into the table, clutching his stomach as Bucky giggled. “Oh man. Like..-I wanna frame that shit, Bucky.” He wiped his eyes of tears.

Blaine’s laughter sounded from behind the camera.

—Cut—-

{Blaine: “Do you guys have any burning questions for each other-?”}

“Why aren’t you looking at me as much in this interview-?” Bucky immediately asked before anyone could think and Sam folded forward in hysteric laughter. 

“I can’t look at you.” Sam shook his head. “You got your side of the table, I have mine.” He shrugged, smiling widely. 

Bucky smugly chuckled. “I can’t wait to watch this video back.” 

Sam shook his head again. “Steve is gonna have a lot to say about it.” 

“Ooooooh, Steve. I forgot.” Bucky gasped before falling into giggles again. “He’s gonna LOVE our oversharing.”

Sam and Bucky burst into laughter once again. 

—Cut—-

Sam reached out for another card and swallowed. “Last question, Buck. You ready?”

Bucky nodded, arms resting on the table and a look of determination on his face. He spared a fleeting glance to the alcohol sitting on the table and realized they’d not really put it too much use. He allowed himself to feel good about that fact.

“Why would it be bad for us to be in a committed relationship?” His friend asked in a low-tone before tossing the card into his used pile.

They were quiet for a few seconds before a gentle looking Sam spoke. “I don’t think it would be bad...do you?” He tipped his chin towards Bucky, who looked a little uncharacteristically nervous.

Bucky did that little head-shake again but much softer. “No, I don’t think it would be bad. A little chaotic but...no-not bad.”

{Blaine: “So you both seem to agree, why do you think you two never talked about it?”}

Bucky bit into his cheek. “I’m not the best at talking openly and honestly about my feelings.” He did a half amused frown and looked to Sam. 

"I can be a real idiot.” Sam smiled. “Bucky seemed closed off...so I just dropped that idea. Focused my energy on other things...guess it kept me busy enough  to avoid my own feelings.” He shrugged. 

{Blaine: “Do you still view the relationship as casual?”}

They did that weird little mind-conversation again before throwing each other small grins. 

“I think we deserve a little cheers?” Sam flowed forward as he slid his clutched palms down his legs and titled his chin towards the bottles.

Bucky debated that for a moment or two.

{Blaine: “Not gonna share that moment with the audience then, huh?”}

Sam and Bucky looked to each other again with the excitement of two friends thinking the exact same thing at the same time. “Nah.” Their heads shook and splayed out their hair a little.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Sam agreed and slowly reached over for his glass. “Instead-” He chuckled. “Buck and I are going to have ourselves a little cheers and go home.”

Bucky smiled and felt himself perk up as Sam poured small drinks for each of them and raised his own glass.

“To SFDD” Bucky clinked and admired Sam’s quirked brows.

“SFDD? What’s that?”

Bucky looked at him like it was obvious and then smirked. “Same fuck, different day.”

Sam spit out most of his drink onto the crisp white table and nearly choked on the laughter.

[mittensmorgul]

Death is one of my favorite characters in the history of Supernatural. OG Death AND Billie, both.

I feel like I needed to make that clear, because I’ve seen multiple versions of Dean’s first chat with Death from 5.21 floating around since 14.20 aired, and I think this actually merits some deeper considerations than “lol guess Chuck’s gonna bite it in the end, because the show said so back in s5.”

First, I’m gonna go all Doylist on this mofo with a few reality checks:

Kripke’s in-show avatar-- Chuck-- was about to peace himself tf outta the story, as Kripke himself was about to step down. And you know who wrote this episode? Who wrote this scene? I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

(It was Sera Gamble, aka the godkiller...)

Right as Sera was arranging things to set up the story she intended to start telling in s6. Where she retold the original story of family betrayal and sacrifice, elevating Cas to a form of mutant godhead only to snuff him in 7.02. And Death didn’t even get to do the deed, despite having been bound to the Winchesters and on the scene ready to snap his fingers, but Godstiel beat him to the snap... literally:

And then... and then the rest of s7 happened, until Carver was tapped to run s8 and forced her hand to bring Castiel back. 

(I won’t drag out all the receipts on the behind the scenes cringeworthy stuff that led to this, because it’s all out there again recently because of what has gone down on the Magicians, but suffice it to say... there was animosity...)

And Dabb, our plucky showrunner now, was there in the writing room through all of this. Since the first go-around of this Betrayal-Sacrifice narrative swirl. And it’s evident how exhausting he finds it based on the seasons he himself has run, beginning in the back half of s11 after Carver stepped aside... He had to keep running through the spiral, but what he highlighted over and over was the damn futility of it.

From the BMoL and their evil monster genocide and mindless obedience to their Code and black-and-white morality, to the utter pointlessness and single-mindedness of Michael and Lucifer-- in this and apparently ANY universe, they only know the single drama that brought forth their existence in the first place.

And Dabb told us that story at the end of s11, with the return of Chuck and his reunification with Amara, apparently healing the original rift that kicked off creation to begin with. Their reunification should have been the end of the cycle, right? Creation could be allowed to continue with the two of them again standing in balance to one another. But apparently even that wasn’t enough for Chuck. He didn’t want to let go of his favorite show. His original story kept playing out, staring “his guys.” Sam and Dean Winchester, with Cas by their side. Once again, Cas was “supposed to have died,” after Jack was born. The “new monster” in a story that had theoretically concluded Cas’s role (this is sarcasm, because this was Sera’s reason for killing Cas off in s6... she literally thought Cas’s part in the story was concluded, that he hadn’t become essential to the narrative). This makes the specific way Dabb had Dean grieve for Cas, and then the specific way Dabb brought him back, all the sweeter, honestly. It was essentially that grief arc from s7, told in a third the number of episodes, in explicit defiance of the original version.

And now Chuck has laid bare his villainy, which is more inability to see any other version of the story. He’s played out every possible variation of the Family Betrayal and Ultimate Sacrifice Angst Narrative that’s possible to play, but on this turn through the arc, in trying to force the despair-betrayal-sacrifice story that brings forth yet one more turn of the cosmic narrative, his characters have seen it enough to see through the spiral.

The Creator only knows one story. It’s HIS story. It’s the story of Creation itself, retelling itself over and over and over, and not even his resolution with Amara was enough to teach him a new story.

Maybe Chuck just hadn’t been willing to end it, because what is the Darkness but his own story’s personal ending? But his Creation has achieved sentience now, and wants to tell its own stories. 

But now Dabb is sitting in the driver’s seat. He’s been slowly steering us to a point where he can FINALLY jump lanes and pull off the narrative rotary. It’s just a matter of which direction he takes the story to the end.

So what do we know about DABB’S feelings about the original author of this story he’s clearly been lovingly retelling us for TWELVE YEARS?

Well, obviously he loves the story, you know? You don’t keep writing the same story for twelve years, taking over as showrunner for the last four and a half of those unless you truly love the characters and their journey. I mean, that’s why we write fanfic of these guys. WE UNDERSTAND HIS LOVE HERE.

Through him, we’ve been learning what these characters really want... they want a happy ending. They want to rest. They want to be able to lay down the baggage of their past and embrace the future without those burdens. THEY want off the ride that “Chuck” has been putting them through from the start.

But they are ALL finally at a mutual point of being unwilling to sacrifice what they HAVE in order to get that ending. They’re not willing to destroy the family they’ve built for it, and they’ve finally had a chance to face The Creator and say that to his face.

They just want to live their own lives. (borrowed from this post): 

But this is the struggle that Dabb has set up for the end of the road. This is him choosing an exit ramp. No matter which road he chose, it would’ve been a bumpy ride. But the fact that this is what the characters themselves are saying they want at this moment before the creator tries to take it all from them, I’m hopeful that the road they’re on will actually lead them to this ending.

They wouldn’t go back and want to erase their past, wouldn’t change what it took to get them to this point, because it’s made them the people they are, and they like the people they are. Just as I don’t think Dabb wants this story and characters that he obviously loves to suffer unrewarded at the end of this very long spiral, I don’t think he intends to destroy the original creator that gave us fifteen years of “our favorite show.” And “our guys.”