#What makes her trust Megs (also. in LOVE with the fact she calls him megs and he thinks thats fine) over OP? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

supercasey · 4 years

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So I've been playing The Hades Game like fucking mad for the last few weeks, and although I'm not very far in it (at least, I don’t think I am; I’ve only beat Hades once!), I'm absolutely in love with it! Anyways, a certain idea has been kicking around in my head for awhile now, so I thought I'd share it with y'all; feel free to tell me what you think of it! (Warning: spoilers for when you beat Hades the first time!)

Anyways, I've already seen a really cool AU post for if Demeter raised Zagreus on the surface by herself (which you can find HERE; please check it out, the outfit for Zag alone is an amazing concept, and I love the artwork!!!) but I keep thinking about an AU where, after Zagreus dies at birth, Persephone runs away and takes his wrapped up body with her.

On the surface, she reconnects/reunites with her mother Demeter, and with her aid, the two of them manage to resurrect the newborn baby, though now he has more white in his hair than anything else. After that, Persephone sends Hades a letter to tell him that Zagreus is alive and well (because she actually has some fucking class), before proceeding to raise Zagreus on the surface with her mother, far away from the entrance to hell. The Olympians also help her out a bit, but mostly they just help by hiding Zagreus when it’s necessary.

(The rest is under a cut ‘cus this got a bit long, sorry!)

Years pass in relative peace, until Zagreus is about as old as he is in-game (I think he’s around 20-25ish???) and is living well, working with his mom and grandma to take care of their gardens and live peacefully away from mankind; he especially loves tending to the animals and guiding lost mortals to safety. However, one day while foraging for fruit in the deepest corners of his mother’s signature garden, Zagreus happens across a strange man in long robes, who introduces himself as Thanatos.

The two men get along swimmingly from minute one, and after agreeing to meet with each other again soon, they leave and tell their families/friends all about the experience, having no clue who they are to each other. After all, Thanatos was told growing up that his lord’s first wife died giving birth to their first and only child, who was a stillborn, and Zagreus thinks his father died of disease (his mom didn’t have to heart to tell him anything bad about his dad). Needless to say, they’re gonna be in for quite the shock soon.

Cue Hades losing his shit and calling on Thanatos, Megaera, and Achilles to go find his progeny and bring him home; he gives them special permission to leave the Underworld without any resistance, trusting Than to lead the way back to Zagreus. Achilles is less than thrilled to be performing such a morally grey task for his master, but Meg and Than are eager to prove themselves, so he begrudgingly agrees to help, even if it hurts his conscience to do so.

Persephone and Demeter also freak the hell out on their end, scared shitless by the fact that Death incarnate has just met their son/grandson, and they’re worried that he plans on coming back again soon. Demeter suggests sending Zagreus to live with the Olympians until this all blows over, but Persephone disagrees, wanting her son to stay nearby in case he grows ill (it’s implied that she’s a bit overprotective of him, mostly because she’s afraid of him dying again; this also means she refuses to let him know that he’s in any danger, believing it would only make things worse for him in the long-run). Frustrated but understanding her daughter’s pain all too well, Demeter at least convinces her to call on the Olympians for aid, which Persephone agrees to do.

The gods promise to help of course, but... well, they're low-key lying; they wanna see how this plays out first.

After several days of traveling through hell (literally), the “let’s kidnap Zagreus” gang makes it to the surface, and they immediately head to Persephone’s garden. All this time, Zagreus has no idea that he’s being targeted, so he goes about his chores as usual, only to run into Than again, and hey, he brought some more friends for him to meet! Zagreus is friendly with all of them, being raised to be very polite by his guardians, and while he’s busy chatting with Than and Achilles, he doesn’t notice Meg sneaking behind him. Just as Zagreus is rattling on about how the animals have been faring this summer, Meg stabs Zagreus in the back with a blade coated in Hades’s blood, cursing him to belong to the Underworld again.

With Zagreus now unconscious from a sedative that was mixed with the blood, the trio hurry off with him back to the Underworld, but not without Persephone seeing what they’ve done to her son. Horrified, she begins to sob, and winter arrives in the mortal world without so much as a fall season in-between this and the summertime.

When Zagreus comes to, he finds himself in a bedroom similar to the one he has in the game, but it’s much cleaner and has less objects of personal value to him. Hades is standing at the foot of his bed when he wakes up, and very calmly, Hades tells Zagreus that he’s his father, and that from now on, Zagreus will be living in the Underworld with him and his people, where he so obviously belongs. It’s a shame his mother can’t be here, of course, but they just need to wait awhile, that’s all; surely she’ll come to her senses and return home soon, now that her husband and son are here.

Zagreus jumps out of bed and faces his father as soon as he’s done monologuing, ready to tell him off for what he’s done, but to his shock, Hades hugs him as soon as he’s on his feet, and admits that he’s waited for this day for a long, long time. He asks his son to please just accept that this is his home now, and despite still being a bit surprised (and subtly hugging Hades back because Longing), Zagreus tells him straight up that he can’t, that he has to get home, especially with winter coming in a few months!

Dejected but not overly surprised, Hades simply nods in acceptance, but he still warns Zagreus that it’s no use trying to fight it; he’s stuck here, now and forever, so he may as well get comfortable and try getting along with him, because no one’s going anywhere anytime soon. Zagreus is horrified, but he nods nonetheless, unsure of what to say or do just yet.

Later that night, as Zagreus is struggling to sleep in this new, unfamiliar place, Achilles comes to him and apologizes about what’s happened, and although he can’t magically fix everything for him, he tells Zagreus that it actually is supposedly possible to escape; it’s just that no one’s ever done it before. Driven by his desire for freedom and the thought of reuniting with his mother, Zagreus tells Achilles that he’s going to find a way out, no matter the cost. Achilles congratulates him on his tenacity, but warns him that it won’t be easy. Still, he’s willing to help Zagreus as much as he can.

From then on, I imagine the game playing out very differently from the original, with a rather frazzled and scared Zagreus trying to get home to his mom and grandma, but with none of his training from Achilles in this AU, he has to rely on something his mother taught him; his connection with earth and all it’s inhabitants. Or, in his case, his connection with the spirits of animals (a cross of his dad and mom’s powers). That’s right, I’m making The Hades Game into a fucking Pokemon-ripoff, but still with some rouge-like elements mixed in (mostly with Zagreus not keeping his animals after runs).

Having royally fucked up in not stepping in sooner to protect Zagreus, the gods end up helping him out by sending down animals associated with them for the young god to tame for a run (I’ll come up with them later). They usually offer a selection to choose from, and from there Zagreus can build up a team and use it to try and escape the Underworld.

To replace weapons, I like to think he’d have “signature” animals that can help him out for any of his runs, specifically ones from Achilles, Poseidon, Zeus, Demeter (once he reaches the surface at least once), and eventually even Hades gives him one if they bond together enough ((yes, it’s Cerberus... kinda; it’s a puppy version of him, otherwise he’d be OP as fuck)). Zagreus’s signature animals can all be given names, and they keep certain skills that they pick up through enough experience battling in the Underworld for Zagreus.

As for story-line stuff, Zagreus ends up in a very fish out of water situation as he tries to get to know everyone in Hades’s house (he’s still our kindhearted Zag, after all, and he knows most of them aren’t to blame, not even really Than!) while also focusing on his goal to get home to his mom. Hades ends up being a lot nicer to him in this AU, perhaps overly so, as he’s trying to make his son like him more in order to make up for lost time (and fill the hole in his heart that Zag’s initial death as an infant and Persephone leaving with him created). It’s part of the reason he’s even letting Zagreus try to escape; he wants him to learn that it won’t work on his own terms (and maybe also scare the kid so bad that he comes running to him for comfort afterwards).

Also, I should really note that Zagreus is 100% a sweet country farm boy in this AU, and he has no idea what the fuck is going on with pretty much anything in the Underworld, much to everyone’s astonishment. For example:

Meg: Gods, it must be weird getting used to everything down here, huh? Sick of stepping in bat shit yet? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it, and Dusa’s pretty good about cleaning it up to begin with. Zagreus: I mean, I guess? It’s not that different from chicken shit tbh. Meg: What the fuck is a chicken???

After that... yeah, I dunno. I’ll try playing Hades some more, see if I think up anything else that could be interesting, but for now, I hope at least someone ends up liking this dumb AU (if not, I’ll still like it... might even try my hand at drawing for it a bit tbh). Again, please check out the person who’s post/art I linked earlier in the post, ‘cus their art is really awesome and inspired me to include Demeter more in this AU!

#supercasey ramblings #hades game #zagreus #zagreus hades #thanatos #hades #persephone #demeter #megaera #achilles #hades farmboy au #i dunno what else to fucking call it #thanzag #if ya squint

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trashlie · 3 years

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I'm loving all your ILY posts! I've also seen your comments on reddit and I enjoy reading your insightful analysis there, too. I would like to know your thoughts on Kousuke and Alyssa. Do you think they will become narrative foils? I noticed they were acting awkwardly around each other too (it kind of reminds me of how annoyed Soushi reacts around Maya) and she seems to have a crush on him 👀 I think she'll be used to contrast how he's still capable of redemption. 1/?

I mean Yui groomed them both successfully. They have shown to emulate her behavior, value their reputation over other people's feelings, and refuse to take accountability for their actions against Shin Ae and Nol. But unlike Kousuke, Alyssa has shown no hint of remorse or even guilt. 2/?

Waaahh thank you so much, anon! Isn't it silly that I still go :O when I realize people actually enjoy what I have to say? I started yelling into the void on tumblr because I got worried I was too active on reddit and I was possibly annoying people lmaooooo so I'm actually really glad you're able to find me on both platforms! It means a lot that I'm not just yelling into a total void.

If you don't mind, I'm breaking your ask down into two parts, because I might leave somethin off/this will get too long if I keep it all in one lol. BUT you bring up things I love to think about!!!!! So!!!!!

I think we are deliberately kept in the dark about Alyssa - whether it's to subvert the scheming girl trope, I'm not sure, but there's a lot of things we don't know about her and that's definitely on purpose. She's a character who probably won't be revealed more to us for a while yet, too, which is frustrating if only because I want to know everything NOW, but it does serve to make her more interesting.

Alyssa's interest in Kousuke is so obvious I can't believe I never noticed it in my original reads. I've seen this brushed off as "She just admires him" and I'm just like... she actually sulked for a moment about Kousuke leaving! Meanwhile she was straight up all but telling Nol she'll help him pack his bags lmao.

I feel like the cast of her shadow is deliberate, too, but look at that face. Sulking.

Compare with

There's room to argue that we can't see Alyssa's face when she first tells him she won't stop him, but she kind of makes it abundantly clear that Nol being away doesn't really affect her. And, I mean, look at how their relationship is conducted. She's bragged to Meg that she and Nol are so casual and cool and easy breezy.

(I guess that means there ALSO is room to argue that Alyssa is putting on a front and just saying this to make sure people think her relationship is great, but the only People who know is Meg. And as a people pleaser, if Alyssa felt uncomfortable with the casual nature of her relationship with Nol, wouldn't she actually do more to make the relationship more of what she wants? Notably during the conversation on the balcony, she basically tells Nol this isn't really her dream relationship, which leads to the admission that they are together not for each other but for the benefits they each get so......)

Kousuke is the one who confuses me the most, because it strikes me as really weird that Yui has used Alyssa as leverage before against Kousuke. "You should bring a date, Kousuke, Alyssa will be there." What does this mean? What does it have to do with him and why would it entice him to bring anyone, anyway? I'm still really baffled on this one, tbh. Something that really stood out to me was during the dinner when Nol finally revealed he was planning to attend Oxford, Kousuke was distracted by his own news that the CFO position would be opening. In fact, when Nol mentions attending Oxford later, Kousuke seems to act like this is his first time hearing it.

Nol takes note of Kousuke's state of distraction before he finally starts talking about his plan.

The way quim does the dialogue and suddenly Kousuke's interest returning is.... interesting isn't it? From the moment Nol notes Kousuke's disinterest, we don't see his face again until Rand brings up Alyssa. Quim doesn't do anything without reason - in a movie, you wouldn't waste film on Kousuke's interesting returning at the mention of Alysa unless it meant anything, right?

There's so many little moments that make me go what the heck is going on here, too.

What the heck is up with THIS? Why does Kousuke deliberate SO LONG before he calls Alyssa? Like, do I think he's really so weirded out about calling his younger brother's girlfriend, considering he has one of his younger brother's own friends reporting on him and at his beck and call? You can't convince me that he's hesitant only because Alyssa is the sister of Meg. It just seems too wary.

And yes, this moment here?

It really does have the same tone as Soushi's wariness of Maya, except is Kousuke wary of Alyssa in the same way? Is he wary of her intentions? This one is so hard for me to read, because frankly, at this point it's hard to tell if Kousuke even cares about Nol as a brother or because he was forced to and he feels deep-buried remorse for the way he treated him and doesn't know how to handle it. Is he just aware of Alyssa's keen interest in him and that puts him on edge? Would he even care about Alyssa's keen interest unless she starts to get pushy?

I HONESTLY HAVE NO IDEA and frankly, it drives me nuts, so I love to discuss this and see what other people have to say. I'd never even noticed how long he deliberates before finally calling her until someone on reddit pointed that out.

lmao this so much preamble to get to the point but anyway YES they are absolutely parallels and I do wonder if they would become foils. Again, it's hard to know with Alyssa because we've been deliberately shielded so much of her personality right now and it's hard to tell what's real and what's not with her. The way that she worries about Shinae telling Nol what she did absolutely reads to me as a lack of remorse, but maybe I'm just projecting because we haven't been given much reason to like her lol. Shinae definitely makes it seem like Alyssa never actually apologized and the way Shinae just brushes it off makes me feel like there was never actual, proper closure. What Alyssa did is worse than just causing her injury: it was why she did it and how she reacted like Shinae was something dirty and how dare she even talk to her even though Shinae probably just wanted to know why Alyssa stopped being friends with her. Maybe she was even seeking closure at the time.

In the same way that Nol and Shinae are mirrors, Kousuke and Alyssa are their parallel abusers, grooming victims of Yui, those who care more about their image and reputation than anything else and have hurt others (Nol and Shinae) in their quest to fill the role. We still don't know if Alyssa dated Nol because she genuinely had a crush (doubtful so far) or because she figured out the family he's from and wanted to get closer. I try so hard to give her the benefit of the doubt but narratively we aren't privy to that yet. Also, have you noticed that Nol and Shinae both have a relationship of some kind with each others' abuser? This mirror and their parallel abusers thing is INTRICATELY woven.

That's what makes it so difficult to tell if she'll become a foil or merely a parallel that highlights what Nol and Shinae have been through. We know Kousuke will receive a redemption arc, because he's a main character, and also because I think part of subverting his trope is that he has to take responsibility for his past actions, rather than being loved in spite of the things he's done or whatever. In order for Kousuke to proper and develop further, he has to be held accountable and he has to break free of his family. Can we trust the same for Alyssa? At this point, she doesn't want to lose Nol because she knows if she loses him, she can just as easily lose her career and access to the world she's only just gained access to (and if she were to lose it all right now, it would be worse for her because she'd have all those trainee fees to pay back).

I think both Kousuke and Alyssa are likely in for a very public airing of their sins; for Kousuke it may come in the form of the expose YuJing is working on, collateral damage in the quest to take down Yui. I also think the only way to nudge Kousuke to change is that his image has to take a hit in some form. Is it that Rand isn't his father? Is it a reveal that he abused his brother? Is it whatever happened in the past that Nol got in trouble for was caused by Kousuke and he let Nol take the blame? Likewise, I think the fact that people knew Alyssa in middle school means she's not so safe, either; what if one of the girls from after school duty reveals what happened? Surely there were rumors going around school about what happened - Shinae is out of school, Alyssa is pulled from school, kids talk. Frankly, a scandal like that could ruin her career, and worse, if Nol knew what she had done, would he be able to remain shackled to her?

While I know Kousuke won't immediately take responsibility for his actions, I've always believed that such a catalyst would at least make him start thinking about it and force him to admit it. It wouldn't happen over night, but in time it will. But will Alyssa? Would she deny the allegations? Would she just shift blame, insist that it was all an accident, that it wasn't bullying like you think? (Cos look, I do believe it was an accident, but there's a way to call it an accident and still admit fault and blame; but just as easily you can call it an accident and try to shirk responsibility.)

I do love the idea of her being a foil for Kousuke, an Aesop's fable, if you will, of what happens when you barter with the devil (Yui). I'm not opposed to the scheming female character type, but I do oppose it when they take down others to raise themselves up, and if that's the way Alyssa will end up doing it, then I'll be happy to watch her fall. If she can scheme and use her connections without hurting people then hey power to ya. Unlike Alyssa, Kousuke never had a chance to evade Yui, and being able to walk away from her as an adult will be a choice he can make. Alyssa loses... so much if she breaks her deal.

I guess that's the thing about where she and Nol are in their relationship now - it's been made clear he's hanging in here because he's forced to and as a sort of act of self-sabotage, full well knowing she's here because she's taking advantage of the opportunities that "dating" him brings so... if they're in an agreement, is it okay to watch her climb right now? She leaves me conflicted and I know it's largely because she's one of the characters we know just enough to hate but so little to justify. Could it be that it all just got out of hand for her? At first she just wanted friends, was trying to find a place to belong, something good in a life that deprived her of social connections. And then comes along Yui, seducing her with ideas of fame and fortune? Was the desire to be loved and admired so strong it powered over the need to fit in with friends and she readily cast them off? Did she not anticipate what it would actually mean, thought she could have her cake and eat it, too? The way she responds to Nol's texts, and the fact that Dieter and Soushi ask him about her, means she probably isn't even in touch with them at all anymore. Idk, I really look forward to seeing their dynamic pre-idol Alyssa, because I want to know how she fit with them, what was it like?

And then, because this was supposed to be about foils lmao you have the fact that Shinae basically foils both Alyssa and Kousuke in regard to Nol, both as a person who cares about him and also as "a good friend" vs "the person I'm currently seeing" lmao like, everyone is literally set to juxtapose each other and man, I'll never get over how well this has been done lmao. Compared to Kousuke and Alyssa, Shinae is the one who accepts responsibility even when it's difficult, who knows when and how to swallow her pride (even if she's not the one who should) and I think it's why she is the one seen a the champion at Nol's side - they are the ones who care little for their images and who know how to apologize (even when they aren't the ones who should be) and that's why they are at each other's sides.

So yes, this is a very long essay response lol to essentially say: I'm still undecided if I think Alyssa will become a foil or merely remain a parallel. I would love to see her redeem herself but something tells me not all characters in this story will be redeeamable. Maybe one day we'll understand her motivation, even if we don't agree with it. I hope at the very least she makes peace with Shinae, but I get the feeling she'll be forced into it (as in, her secret gets ousted) and that's not as satisfying, but hey, if it helps Shinae then I'm for it.

A friend of mine has mused that maybe Alyssa will be the one to oust the secret herself and I'm ngl, I like that idea though it does feel kind of vindictive towards her character. Maybe accidentally spilling it to Nol would be the segue to a couple episodes from her POV though!

Gosh this was so long I'm so sorry lmao but please follow up with your thoughts and feelings, too, or if this made you think of anything or what! I think at this point in the story we've been given a lot of information but we just don't have enough of it to totally piece together what we're supposed to be seeing. I think Kousuke and Alyssa's weirdness around each other is very deliberate, though, and I'm not sure "She's Meg's sister" is enough to warrant so many panels of Kou being SO WEIRD about her, you know? Am I missing thing? Is there more to be revealed? Are we just blind? lmao Aaaahhhhhhhhhhh

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #Alyssa Cho #Kousuke Hirahara #at this point always anticipate a read more cos whew i can't shut up!#BUT I'VE BEEN FIXATED ON THIS FOR A WHILE NOW AND I STILL HAVEN'T COME TO A CONCLUSION I LIKE #AND I'VE BEEN DYING TO TALK A LITTLE ABOUT ALYSSA AND KOUSUKE AS UNREPENTENT PARALLELS AND YUI PUPPETS #the way that Nol and Shinae are mirrors and they each have their own version of Kousuke/Alyssa #and conveniently they each have a relationship of some sort with each others abusers does not escape me #what will Shinae think when she finds out how Kousuke has treated Nol?#What will Nol think when he finds out who Alyssa was during her brief stint at public school #I'm dying for flashbacks with Alyssa because I JUST! WANT! TO UNDERSTAND!!!!!!!#so far it's so easy to villify her because we don't know otherwise #we've been given no reason to justify or forgive her #and you know what i am okay with villifying a character like her in a story with some pretty dimensional female characters #Maya is one such character who was easy for readers to hate but redeemed herself by being mature and honest with Shinae #do I trust Alyssa to be mature and honest?#only if she ever becomes okay with the idea of losing her image #i think that's a big thing for Kousuke and Alyssa?#at some point Kousuke will realize his image is a fraud #something he was manipulated into despite what he likes to believe #and once he comes to that realization after he breaks down and crumbles and rebuilds he will find a new path and build his own image #one of his own making #but Alyssa....? Who or what would she be if she lost her image?#if she couldn't control the narrative?#AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

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beclynn-herondale · 3 years

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Inside TMI Gang's diaries part 5 2/3

Clary: Dear diary, I ran away with Jace, mom won't be happy, but I have to save my Jace. Simon is covering for me, although that won't last long and mom may go mama bear on him, I do love him though and I'll owe him one. So far things have been weird, seeing Jace get along with Sebastian is strange and I don't like it, and Sebastian is as evil as ever, i miss Jace so much, this Jace isn't my Jace. And Sebastian doesn't trust me I know this for a fact, but I don't trust him either and you better watch your back Sebastian.

*Later*

So Jace's room is the same as it always is, so clean not a mess, everything is neat, but he isn't Jace. We went on a date, Sebastian let us cause Jace would be with me, Jace cam speak italian and hates ducks, I'll have to mention this stuff when he is my Jace again, we stole a boat but that's nothing new from what we usually do, the date was nice but I felt guilty for enjoying it, when we came back Sebastian was occupied and creepy, anyway, we had a talk when I woke up later and he is starting to confuse me, but that's what he wants. I went back to bed and got up again, also Jace can make eggs, I don't like them but can't tell him that, also I wonder if he can cook other things, need to make a list of things to ask him when he's back to normal Jace. We also read a copy of his ancestor's book.

*Later later*

Me, Jace and Sebastian, went on a mission kind of thing, Simon calls us team Evil, we fought a demon, and I actually kicked a demons butt, Sebastian took us to a kinda night club, me and Jace got high, Sebastian told me I have a dark heart and like bitch whatever. Me and Jace made out in the club and uh things kinda got outta control, I am not proud, ok, I thought I saw dead people and passed out, I woke up to Sebastian leaving and followed him, demons almost killed me and he saved me, what is he doing? I lost my ring and can't get in contact with Simon, everything is bad and maybe this is all hopeless, no, I just need coffee, sweet sweet coffee, I need a coffee high *coffee/knife/serious emoji*

Possessed Jace: Dear diary, things are good, Sebastian keeps giving me weird looks when I am with Clary though, Sebastian we are still cool though don't worry. Clary is here and it's nice, I want her to be happy and her to have whatever she wants, I am gonna be so romantic but cool about *sunglasses emoji* I am Jace Lightwood, and extremely smooth and she loves me.

*Later*

I took Clary on a date and I nailed it *sunglasses emoji* we went back home after that and I read to her and we went to sleep, after that we went on a mission, my fire goddess kicked ass, and Sebastian took us to a night club place to take care of evil stuff, me and Clary got high and we did some things at the night club. In the morning I made her eggs, I'll make her eggs all the time, Sebastian wants to discuss evil plans now.

Trapped Jace: *sharpening knives* just wait you little shit, keep looking at Clary like that and I'll stab you, I am gonna beat you up, you shall know my wrath, and I will bring it upon you. *Knife/murderous emoji*

Sebastian: Dear evil diary, what can I say, the fruit of evil is ripe, I have evil plans, I have Jace under my finger, I have Clary now too, and soon she'll understand. Jace will do anything I say and Clary will do anything for him, love truly does make one weak. And I wi burn shit. Also maybe I'll play with stuff as well. *Devil emoji*

*Later*

We got into a fight and Clary can kick ass, maybe I underestimated her a tiny little bit. We went to a night club and I talk to Meliorn and I do believe the fair folk will stand with me, and after all I do have something with the queen, and I know what you are going to say what about Jace? Well you see Jace is my backup plan he has no idea ;)

Alec: Dear diary, still sneaking around, Jace is still gone, Clary is gone now too, Jocelyn is angry and I know why she scares Jace now, Izzy and Simon are something, Idk but my big brother instincts are kicking in. Jocelyn and Izzy went to the Iron Sisters and found out there isn't a weapon to separate Jace from Sebastian, unless it is of heaven itself or something. *Shrug emoji*

*Later* so we summoned a demon, and then a greater demon, what have we become? I'll do whatever it takes to save Jace, but like when did we start summoning demons and greater demons like it's not a big deal? I think we've lost our minds, and we are also now apparently going to summon Raziel, what are we doing, but it's for Jace. Also Magnus does look good in his outfit today but there is stuff between us. When did life get so complicated? *shrug emoji*

Magnus: Dear diary, welcome back to the crazy chaotic would of Shadowhunters, I may have lost Clary, but it's not my fault she can make portals, I see an angry Jocelyn in my future. Alec is kinda weird lately but it's probably nothing, Isabelle and Jocelyn were going to the Iron Sisters to see if there is a weapon that can separate Jace and Sebastian, blondie needs to come back so all this Shadowhunter drama will calm down.

*Later*

We summoned a demon and after that we summoned the greater demon Azazel, the little shit almost told Alec who my father is, and I swear what have I gotten myself into? Oh! Also apparently we are gonna summon an Angel now, I have a feeling we'll all be dead by the end of this, it's a miracle we haven't died already, I have to do research and stuff, also Sheldon saved my cat so I am thankful for that, Isabelle and Simon have something going on, Jocelyn is gone, and I want to drink and drink, cause Magnus is done bitches. But also Alec is looking beautiful today. *throws glitter* *sunglasses emoji*

Izzy: Dear diary, Simon came to me like I asked him to, and he told me about starwars or something, I don't remember the plot exactly but I think they had something called lifesavers???? Or something, also they are apparently in space which is cool, and the good guys win. Also me and Jocelyn went to the Iron Sisters and they said I would make a good one but like bish ya girl needs her heels, idk what has gotten into me lately, but when I think about Simon I feel happy and I get this feeling and I want to spend time with him and hear him talk endlessly about starwars cause he is so passionate about it. *Confused emoji*

*Later*

We may have kinda summoned a demon, and then a greater demon, and now we may kinda be getting ready to summon an angel we are on our way to Luke's farm so yeah. . . But yeah, Simon may die and idk what to do... *Blank emoji*

Simon: Dear diary, life just doesn't seem to be letting up, first Clary ran off to do reckless shit, Jace is literally possessed by her evil Brother and is like a puppet, Jocelyn is mad I didn't stop Clary, but honestly who can stop Clary?!?! — Izzy went off to the Iron sister earlier with Jocelyn before she found out Clary was gone and apparently they can't make a weapon to separate Jace and Sebastian without killing them both, this is the part where that intense action yet hopeless music would start playing. *Nerd emoji*

*Later* I told Izzy the plot of Starwars and she listened and laughed and said it was neat, she said It was neat and even though it is so much more than neat for some reason her just listening to me talk about it made me so happy, she may become a fan *Shooketh emoji* but also we summoned a demon, and then a greater demon and now we are going to summon an angel to try and get the angel Michael's sword called glorious cause it's apparently the only weapon that will work, but I may die so rip, but also please let everything be alright but also I do have the mark of cain it's just a matter of if it works. *Worried emoji*

Church: Dear Cat diary, I come to you with the heavy weight of the most fucking done I have ever been, Jem is still hasn't come and saved me, Herondale is still possessed and honestly I am done, fire ball ran away, archer boy is off doing shit, Izzy is falling in love now too and I thought she would be the one who wouldn't like girl love drama? And Simon is probably contributing to whatever chaotic plan fire ball has. evil shit is probably off doing evil shit, where's that sweet little boy? Gone! Because an ass had to be an ass. Sorry I need to control my emotions, I just miss Jem so much, and these kids are driving me crazy, also Magnus you are contributing as well now,Jem Jem Jem pls. Anyway I am gonna go sharpen my claws and eat tuna and drown my sorrows in tuna. *Cat/tuna/murderous emoji*

Tag list: @khaleesiofalicante @chibi-tsukiko @megs-readstoomuch @spotsandclawsthings @magnus-the-maqnificent @replayfootsteps @sarcasticmalecfan @simply-ellas-stuff @my-archerboy

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castielmacleod · 3 years

Note

sorry if this counts as a nfsw ask but it’s interesting to me that you call cas sex averse! i have never heard that take, only people saying cas is constantly horny for dean, can you expand a little? again sorry if this is a sensitive q

Hi, that’s okay, I can talk about it a little! It’s a bit of a recent realisation for me but one that I see pretty well grounded in canon. It’s just based on the whole April thing and how I don’t really think Cas would want to have sex again after that. He was already at least disinterested in it (even terrified of the idea of having sex with women specifically, if you think about 5x03) and then that coercive event happened in 9x03 that I think would be honestly very traumatising if spn was a normal show where things affected people

Like I AM a gay Cas truther, I think he is attracted to men, and that that is a good and normal and natural thing…. I do think he would enjoy consensual, safe sex with a partner he could be sure he could trust, and that he’d enjoy feeling emotionally and physically close with someone he loved in that way. But I think it would take him a while to feel comfortable enough to enter that situation again, if ever, and that he’d need someone to be very patient with him and considerate of that

Some elaboration on the 9x03 situation under the cut because I can’t help but ramble, I’ll just put out a cw that I will be discussing the nonconsensual nature of what happened with Cas and April, so please just be wary of that.

So 9x03 is one of the more horrific and upsetting episodes spn ever put out, which is saying something. These tags by @/waifstiel on this post sum up my opinion of the situation pretty well.

There were people hunting him, April was offering him food, shelter, and medical care. It was stay with her or get thrown back out onto the streets.

She also just started kissing him apropos of virtually nothing, so Cas may have also thought it was what Humans Do, similar to how he reacted when Meg kissed him. The people in Cas’ life, especially Dean, have done nothing but indicate that Men Have Sex With Women And That’s How The World Works, so there’s that too.

And to go back to waifstiel’s tags, he had absolutely expressed disinterest, dislike, and even fear of sex in the seasons before this. We all saw how he looked when confronted with sex with women in 5x03. In my opinion there is no way Cas would have had sex with April if he thought he didn’t have to.

Of course the real answer to all of this is that Buckleming are sexist rape fetishist freaks who can’t write to save their lives and they genuinely thought Cas would just do that. But anyway

Of course, the next morning April betrays Cas’ desperately placed trust by tying him up, revealing she wasn’t who she said she was, straddling him against his will, torturing him, and murdering him. So the fact that Cas had sex with her not only under duress, but without full disclosure of who she was, makes what happened between them nonconsensual in my opinion. Being coerced into giving consent for his own survival was bad enough, but now we have what might be considered a sexual assault. (Which makes the jokey way they play it off later in the episode absolutely sickening)

Anyway, those are my thoughts on that

#I very narrowly escaped a situation like this once and it messed me up for months #So this episode and those scenes are extra fucking disgusting to me lol #My posts #Ask #Minors dni

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straightouttaneptune · 4 years

Text

You’ll come with me, won’t you?

Pairing: Harley Quinn x Reader

Warning: It’s different. Joker is a bitch. Reader becomes kind of morally weird as the fic progresses. People die.

Summary: Y/N is a baby psychiatrist, who just started out. Suddenly, she is trusted with the most feared case of all. Harleen Quinzel. Y/N thinks it’ll be good for her career, or will it?

A/N: I couldn’t find a good ending to this for the longest time, I’m so glad I did. Also, this is for my 500 followers fic queue :) Thank you for the love, darlings✨

—————————————————————

“Harleen Quinzel?”

That was a name you’d heard before. That was a name everyone’s heard before, at least once in their lives. But it was not the name that had surprised you, but it was the fact that her name was right there on top of your long patient list.

“Yeah, congrats Y/N. She’s pretty famous around here. Straighten her out and you’ll probably be in the big city in less than a year.” Your colleague, Megan peered into your books over your shoulders and patted your back affectionately.

You were one of the new psychiatrists in the business, and you had been dealing with criminal minors, the less mental mental patients and all the clients that newbies would usually handle. Being fresh out of university after holing up in the labs and libraries, you needed to gain some experience first before taking on the really hard cases.

Or... that’s what you were told.

“C’mon, Meg, you gotta know more than that. Why would they pass her case to me? She’s a rank SS psycho.” You pushed, looking up at her through your lashes in a slightly accusatory manner.

She gave you a look that asked; “Do you really want to know?” And you nodded.

“Well, I heard the other docs, the guys who were like 10, 20, hell, 30 years into the business, they all got their brains scrambled by... this girlie.” Her index finger landed on the profile photo of Harley Quinn, an apologetic look in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes, not necessarily at Megan, but at whoever it was that tried to deal this card to you. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“It’s cruel, but you can always turn it down, y’know?” Megan set her books aside, her left arm cradling your slumped shoulders.

“Yeah... But I might not.”

Megan’s dropped gaze snapped back up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s a good way to kick-start my career, I guess.”

\|/

“Hello, new doc.” The moment you entered the room, you regretted making this decision immediately. Harley Quinn sat in a big contraption-looking chair, her hands and feet shackled onto the armrests and legs of the seat. Her platinum blonde hair was untied and unkempt, its bottoms still dyed red and blue, although it seemed to have faded over time.

The only thing dividing the space between you and Harley was a metallic table bolted on the floor, wide enough so even if Harley broke off her arm shackles and reached for you, she wouldn’t be able to touch you. You swallowed your nerves and entered the room with a confident stride, smiling sweetly at the guards as they closed the door with eyes of concern.

“Hello, Miss Quinzel.” You thanked heavens that your words came out right, especially in front of a woman who could sniff out people’s fears from thousands of miles away.

“You’re the first girl I’ve had.” She mused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. But the light in her eyes has lost its original color, you thought. She looked much more lively in photos taken way back then. When she was just a psychiatrist.

“Hm. I guessed that it would be nice to have some heart to heart, female to female.” You reassured your anxious self calmly in your head, repeating the words ‘you got this, Y/N.’

“Do you know why I’m here, and not... Damien? Who usually comes in for your check-ups?” Stowing your clipboard away on your lap, you continued.

“Yeah. Before him was another guy, then a grandpa and just... a buncha stupid-lookin’ guys. But I didn’t like them.” She replied as if it was the most simple thing in the world. The files back in the company would argue differently. Every single guy, either was tormented by her psychotic attacks or totally gone insane from her mental tricks.

“Are you going to do the same thing to me?” You asked, not really knowing what answer to expect. Your eyes remained soft, a small smile gracing your lips as you waited for her answer.

“No. I like ya.” She answered quickly, shrugging and adverting her gaze away to look down at her shackles. “Can I sit down like you?” She shook her wrist lightly, the chains rattling against the armrest.

“Maybe next time, Miss Quinzel.”

“There’s a next time? Yeah!”

You internally smiled to yourself, what a successful human being she would’ve been if not for a man like Joker to ruin her life. Right then, you vowed to whatever higher power was out there, that you’d get Harley Quinn to break free from his spell.

The people in your office were surprised, to say the least, that you were able to keep up your visits to the prison, and that an amateur therapist like you could get the queen of Gotham in a tight little leash. You didn’t like to think about it like that, but rather that she trusts you better than any of the others.

The weekly visits became 2 days a week, and from weeks of good behavior, Harley was allowed to be without handcuffs during her sessions now. You weren’t afraid she’d leap up and strangle you, because of some sort of connection the two of you formed after all those times spent together.

“Hey doc, why can’t you visit me more ‘round here?” Harley pouted, interrupting the current therapy session with an abrupt comment.

You looked up from your clipboard, dumbfounded. Why would she want to have you around more?

“Harley, I’m just your therapist.” You tapped the end of your pencil against the material of the clipboard, locking eyes with the woman. Anyone could see that she was starting to look better, particularly her eyes. They looked more human, compared to the hollow shell they used to be.

“I know, Y/N. But I’ve been doin’ some thinkin. It’s pretty fuckin clear that Mister J isn’t coming for me, and the suicide squad was probably just a one-time thing. And... You’re all I have.” She admitted, slowly sliding down from her pipe chair and laying down on the concrete floor.

The wooden chair you sat on scraped against the hard floor as you pushed it back. Standing up from your seat, you walked over to her in 3 steps. You kneeled down beside her, her skin just inches away from you. “Do you want a hug?” You questioned quietly, your voice softer and more inviting than usual. Harley felt this too, sitting up in a millisecond just as the offer left your lips.

“Yeah.” She almost crawled over to you, her arms wrapping around your neck desperately. That would’ve been terrifying if it was out of context, but she actually wasn’t trying to kill you. She genuinely just wanted a warm embrace.

You felt her slender torso tighten and loosen as if she was trying to repress a sob. Hand carefully sliding over her back, you whispered; “Let it out.”

And she did.

\|/

Time flew by as you continued to work on her case, and you fell into the worst situation a psychiatrist could possibly be in while working. You grew emotionally invested in your client. As a friend, who cared for her well being and happiness.

Maybe... even more.

You still didn’t know if you could trust her though, you managed to keep a cool head and your mind was rational, but that only confirmed the fact that Harley wasn’t playing any tricks on you. That you were genuinely becoming attached to the beautiful prisoner.

Harley, on the other hand, did intend on ruining you at first. Make them run back to where they came from crying, so no one would disturb her again while she waited for her puddin.

But it was all starting to feel different with you.

“Hey, doc?” Harley called out from inside her electric cage. She was being a little bit mischievous that day, and she pulled an armed guard against the buzzing bars when he wasn’t looking. He probably died, she guessed.

But she didn’t like that she couldn’t be near you during your sessions. So a man died, big deal!

“Can you let me out?” She pleaded in the sweetest voice she could muster, calling out to you who was currently propped up on the usual desk, writing down some notes on your clipboard.

“No, Harley. I don’t have the keys to your cell.” You replied without looking up, but you could imagine the cute pout that Harley had when you denied her of something.

“But would you open it if you did?” You looked up at that question, seeing her smiling from ear to ear now, anticipation glowing in her eyes.

“Maybe. I know you won’t hurt me.” You smiled back at her, watching her facial expression carefully. How would she react if you showed some warm friendliness towards her? Could she possibly return to the life she used to have?

“Maybe I will, doc. You don’t know what goes on in here.” Harley leaped up to her cloth swing she’d made for herself, her now almost completely platinum hair draping down her back.

“I hope you won’t hurt me, then.”

You couldn’t forget that split second where Harley’s eyes looked more humane than it ever has been for many, many years.

\|/

“Warning. Warning. Escape Attempt in Sector 9H11.”

The sound of the speaker and the blasting alarm merged together in a chorus of chaos, guards and officers running around to stop whoever the escapee was.

It was 9:30AM and you were just about to enter the asylum for your shift, when this sudden noise almost blasted your ears off. Before you could process what was happening, a bomb went off right next to you, making you scream and clutch your head as you ducked.

The debris fell everywhere along with broken pieces of concrete, and you just stayed there trying to collect your thoughts. Right when a random hand grabbed you by your wrist.

“Hi, doc. I was lookin’ for ya. You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Harley pulled you to the side, hiding the two of you behind a few bushes. Her eyes were electric making you realize that the true “Harleen Quinzel” you’ve been trying to look for is right in front of you now.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” You didn’t hesitate to take her outreached hand. Your mind had already been made up since the first time you laid your eyes on her.

#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x y/n #harley quinn x you #dceu #dc #suicide squad #birds of prey #harley quinzel #harley quinn fic #harley quinn imagine

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nothing-but-dreams · 3 years

Text

Raised From Darkness, We Deserve the Light

SPNDBCC (By @foundfamily4eva): Part 6- Destiel / Part 8- Love Confession Dean/Cas, 2.9k, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Angst to Fluff Summary: On the heels of losing Cas, and not being able to speak his truth, Dean goes on a mission to rescue Cas from the Empty. Things quickly go awry, and Dean has to fight to save the man he loves. AO3: Link

It was pitch black, the roar of thunder filled the nothingness like a cosmic being screaming a warning, and Dean felt like he was falling through time itself. He should’ve expected such, seeing as the Empty was, in fact, a cosmic being, and it was pissed that it couldn’t be left alone.

Dean took a shot at a spell he found in one of the old Men of Letters books. They said they used the spell to resurrect a demon who they needed information from. It wasn’t super specific, but Dean figured if it could get a demon out of the Empty, it could also work for an angel.

As he lit the ring of holy oil, a rift appeared, similar to the one that let them travel to purgatory and apocalypse world, but this one was black. Before he could figure out the next step, he was sucked into the void, and found himself falling endlessly through the Empty.

He hit something with a thud. He’d call it the ground, but it wasn’t. Everything around him was darkness. It fell silent. There was no more wind, no thunder, no distant calamity. Dean wished he had a map. Or a flashlight. Or a more thought out plan, because he really only thought this through up to the point where he got here. All he cared about was finding Cas, and bringing him home. He figured he’d make the rest up along the way.

Dean stood up, unable to see or hear anything other than his own breathing.

“Cas!” he shouted, hoping maybe, somehow Cas would be able to hear him. There was nothing. So he shouted his name again, and again, and again, calling out into the void, hoping something would shout back. He was about to give up when he heard a whoosh.

“Dean?”

Dean turned around, and sure enough, in front of him stood Castiel. It was overwhelming, the sudden rush of emotions that shot through his body. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to say, but he didn’t know how. He was just as shocked standing before Cas now as he was when the Empty took him.

“Cas? Is it … is it really you?” Dean was skeptical, it seemed too easy to call out his name and that was enough to summon him.

“Yes. Are you really you?”

Dean tilted his head, waiting for an explanation.

“The Empty has been playing tricks on me ever since I got here. It’ll manifest as you and then make me think you were here to save me. Much like you are now.”

“No, it’s really good ol’, 50% scar tissue and cholesterol, me.”

“That’s good to hear. Well, not objectively, because the number one killer of humans is heart disease, and if you’re 50% cholesterol, that’s not-”

“Look,” Dean interrupted, realizing there was a very real possibility of Cas going off on a 30 minute tangent, “I don’t know how much time we have, so let’s try to figure out a plan to bust you out of here.”

“I don’t really know how to get out of here. Do you?” Cas asked, eyebrows raised.

Dean was flying by the seat of his pants. He realized, yeah, he really should’ve done a little more research on how to escape the Empty, but when an angel confesses their love to you, it can make you do crazy things.

“Not exactly. I kinda figured we’d go out the way I came in. Whatever, we’ll figure it out, but right now, we have to go.”

Dean went to grab Cas’s wrist, and in an instant, Cas’s body melted into a pile of black goo, and reemerged in the image of Meg, sitting on her throne.

“Dean, long time no see.”

“Meg?”

“No, this is just the face I’ve taken a liking to. But I figured you’d connect better with a certain lovesick angel. Gotta say, I’m pretty pissed you had to go and ruin my fun, because I could’ve toyed with you all day.”

“Where’s Cas?”

“All business, no play. Got it.” The Empty snapped its fingers and Cas appeared next to the throne. He was unharmed, but his eyes went wide and his jaw fell slack as soon as he saw Dean.

“Cas!” Dean tried to run to the angel, but he was frozen in place. It didn’t seem like Cas could move either.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast there lover boy. I know you want E.T. here to return home, but since I have him, I want to make a deal.”

Dean’s jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. Evil sons of bitches always wanted to make deals, and every time Dean said yes, he’d end up screwed over in the long run. But what the hell? This was for Cas.

“What do you want?”

“I’ll give you your precious angel, if you hold up the bargain that Death promised me.”

“And what was that?”

“It’s loud.” The Empty waved its hand and a cacophony of tortured screams echoed through the void. “They were all sleeping. And when they sleep, I sleep. But you, and the angel, and God kept coming in, and dragging people out. Now all they do is scream and I’m sick of it.”

“Sorry about your beauty sleep, but I don’t really see how that’s my problem.”

“Oh, you don’t?” With another snap of the Empty’s fingers, Cas fell to his knees, hunched over in pain, and started vomiting up blood. “Because I can do this for the rest of eternity, Dean.”

Unable to watch Cas suffer any longer, Dean gave in.

“Fine, I’m in. What do you need me to do?”

The Empty snapped its fingers, and Cas went back to normal.

It explained to Dean that in order for there to be peace in the Empty, there needed to be no more unwelcome guests, and no more resurrections. The Empty would be the only one with the power to let things in or let things out. In order to do that, he would need to close the rift to the Empty, forever.

It was a simple spell, in that it was only a few ingredients, but Dean didn’t want to put his trust in another bad guy. Cosmic entities were high up on his don’t-mess-with list.

In order to close the rift, Dean would have to take the Empty’s plasma, mix it with holy oil and demon blood, use the mixture to draw a devil’s trap around the rift while it was still open, then set the sigil on fire. It seemed doable, but there was a catch. There was always a catch. The Empty wouldn’t return Cas back to Earth until the spell was complete.

If he agreed, there was a risk that the Empty would keep Cas trapped in there forever. That just wasn’t a risk Dean was willing to take. Luckily, he had a plan B.

“No deal,” Dean said, pulling an angel blade from his pocket.

“Is that your plan? Attack me with an angel blade? That’s cute, Dean. But I’m the Empty. I rule over fallen angels, remember, that’s not going to work on me.”

“That might be so,” Dean said, throwing the angel blade at the Empty, watching as it landed in its chest, “but an angel blade bonded with pieces of Death’s Scythe? That’s Kryptonite.”

When Dean found the spell that would let him into the Empty, the Men of Letters also included a section on how to slow the Empty down. If you were able to cut the Empty with the blade of Death’s Scythe, it would send the Empty back to the depths of its abyss where it would have to reform. When Billie attacked him and Cas, she broke off a couple small pieces of her blade, which Dean later found in the hallway. He figured if he could weld the two metals together, it would work.

As the Empty melted and vanished into the void, Dean stared, shocked. His plan actually worked. It wasn’t a sure thing, about a 50/50 chance, and considering the other option was him and Cas being murdered, he was glad to see his gamble paid off.

“Alright, let’s go.” Dean grabbed his blade, and ran with Cas in a direction he could only hope was correct. They didn’t get very far before the ground began to quake beneath them. “What the hell is that?”

“What the hell is right,” a voice grumbled as it materialized into a human form. It was followed by another, and another, appearing from nowhere.

“Demons,” Cas said, turning in circles, realizing he and Dean were quickly becoming surrounded. “Run.”

Both men sprinted into the darkness, but were quickly tackled by a group of demons. Dean and Cas fought, punching and wrestling the demons. It seemed like every time they escaped and were able to cover some ground, more demons found them.

They ran and fought their way through the Empty, until they found it. They could see the glow of the rift in the distance, they were so close, but demons kept finding them, and they were intent on keeping them trapped in the Empty forever.

Cas fought the best he could, but with his powers all but gone, he didn’t have much to draw from. The odds were against him. Luckily, Dean was able to kill the demons, with the help of his blade, but not before they pummeled Cas.

Dean kneeled down next to Cas, terrified by the sight of blood spilling from his mouth. This was bad. Dean tried to help Cas get back on his feet, but Cas shook his head, staying put.

“I’m too weak,” Cas said, wincing as his words emphasized the pain of his bruised ribs. “You have to go without me.”

“Cas, don’t do this.”

The ground rumbled again, and the pounding of demon footsteps drew closer. There wasn’t time to argue.

“This is where I belong, Dean. You still have a chance to save yourself.”

“No. Not this time. We’re so close. I’m not leaving you behind.”

“Must you be so stubborn, Dean? You can still make it.” Cas’s voice rumbled with frustration. “Go.”

Dean recognized instantly that that was not a request, but an order. He didn’t care. He knew how this played out once, saw first hand the miserable fall out of it all, and as long as he still had his own free will, he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

“Not without you,” Dean said, reaching his hand out again to try to help Cas. Cas knocked it away, overcome with anger.

“Damn it, Dean, why won’t you just go!”

“Because I love you, Cas!” Shock hit Dean as the words left his mouth. Even though he knew Cas felt the same way, it still somehow felt too heavy, too intimate to actually speak into existence. It felt like his soul was an open wound, raw and exposed. He turned his gaze to the ground, trying to compose himself. He had to keep it together if he was going to get them back to Earth. “So don’t you ask me to leave you, because I can’t do that. We’re both getting out of here, or we’re both dying here, and those are the only two options, got it?”

Cas nodded, the faint hint of a smile forming. “Got it.”

Two demons caught up with them, and set their sights on Cas. Dean could see the bloodlust in their eyes, and attacked them before they could make their move. He made quick work of them, stabbing them and sending them to wherever demons go when they die in the Empty. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that they were gone, and he could get Cas to safety.

Dean slid his arm around Cas, lifting him up. Cas was right, he was weak. He had a limp, and he was bleeding, but Dean could handle it.

“I got you, buddy. Don’t worry.”

Dean picked Cas up into a fireman’s carry, more demons charging toward them in the distance, and with the last bit of strength he had, he ran into the rift.

They landed back in the bunker, and Dean knew he didn’t have much time. He grabbed the container of holy oil he used earlier and poured it into a bowl. He pulled the altered angel blade from his pocket and used it to stir the mixture. It had both plasma from the Empty, and demon blood on it. Two birds with one stone. Hopefully.

“Hang in there, Cas, alright. It’s almost over,” Dean said, drawing a devil’s trap with the oil around the still open rift. He struck a match, and dropped it on the oil, watching the sigil burst into tall flames.

The devil’s trap began to glow before shooting a beam of light up to the ceiling. The light pulsed for a second, then swallowed the rift as it contracted and disappeared. The fire went out, leaving nothing but the faint wisps of smoke in its wake.

The bunker was quiet. Dean and Cas looked around, there was no sign of the Empty, no sign that any angels or demons had followed them back. It was just the two of them, alone.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dean grabbed some bandages and rubbing alcohol, despite Cas’s objection to leave him be and that he didn’t need to be fussed over. He carefully cleaned his wounds, and bandaged up the really bad cuts.

As Dean cleaned the blood from the corner of Cas’s mouth, his hand resting gently on his chin, the pricking tickle of peach fuzz against his fingers, he looked into Cas’s eyes, and swore he could see the rest of his life right there.

“Cas, there’s something I have to tell you, man.”

“No, Dean, it’s fine. You don’t have to-“

“Just let me say this.” Dean took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on all the reasons why he needed to say this, instead of the voice telling him to keep his mouth shut. “When you told me you loved me, I didn’t know what to say. There was so much happening, and there just wasn’t enough time.”

There was a tightening in the back of Dean’s throat, and God damn it, he didn’t want to cry, but when you’re unearthing something that’s been buried for decades, it hurts like hell.

“Cas, you mean more to me than I can even say. It’s so hard for me to admit that, because everyone I care about dies, and I can’t handle losing you again. Every single time you left me, I fell apart. And I know you don’t think that’s true, because I never told you, but honestly, it was just because I was scared. I was scared of my own feelings, I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way about me, I was scared you couldn’t feel that way about me. And then you said it, and it was like my world turned on its head. It was everything I wanted, and everything I was so sure I couldn’t have all at once. I didn’t even have a chance to process any of it before you were just… gone.”

Dean took Cas’s hands into his own, both of their eyes brimming with tears. This time Dean knew in the back of his head that no one was coming to ruin his happiness, even if his heart couldn’t fully accept it yet. He knew he was safe with Castiel, the angel, who out of many options, chose to love. The angel who gripped him tight and raised him from perdition. The angel who saw the best in him, when he only saw the worst in himself. The angel who gave up an army, rebelled against heaven, gave up his own life so many times for one man.

“So, say it to me again, so I can give you the answer that you deserve.”

Cas smiled, tears falling down his cheeks. He had hoped for years, that this moment would be a reality, but he, much like Dean, didn’t think it possible. But here he was, holding hands with the human who made him question order and obedience. The human who felt things so deeply, and loved with all his heart. The human who changed him, and how he saw the world, and the world itself.

“Dean,” Cas began, happiness filling his being. His smile, full of pure joy. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Cas.”

Without hesitation, and because he felt like he couldn’t hold himself back even one more second, Dean pulled Cas in close and kissed him. The too-rough passion of it, as if their lips found their soulmate, was so much better then what either of them imagined. The wax and wane of their breaths slipping between tongues— a song to say “yes” to when a lover asks if they can have this dance. It was a gentle surrender to bliss, a white flag they both wished to wave for far too long.

In that moment, with nothing more between them, no more lies, no more doubt, they both got to experience a moment of true happiness. They got to experience each other. No consequences. No punishment. Just true, honest, peace.

Their voices were no longer silenced by the forces they thought held dominion over them. This was not the end of their story, but the beginning. They were two magnificent beings, brought together not by fate, but by free will, finally being able to live the life they deserved— one full of hope, endless possibilities, and knowing that the person they loved, loved them in return.

#Destiel #Fanfic #DeanCas #Supernatural #Fanfiction #SPNDBCC #Dean Saves Cas From The Empty #Hurt/Comfort #Love Confession #First Kiss #THEY GET TO BE HAPPY #Dean Is Bi #Dean Loves Cas #Cas Loves Dean #REQUITED Love #Major Character Undeath #Writing

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writerofshit · 4 years

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I know the usual interpretation in fahc is that Ryan shares his woes with the other gents, but I just really love the idea of Jeremy overhearing him on a voice call with Meg (either gaming together or while she's preparing for a hit) moaning about how the new guy in his crew is cute and funny and hotter than the arizona desert and she's just like "pics or it didn't happen. Also ask him out, if he says no you can fake your death and come work with me"

Oh my GOD yes, I am absolutely here for this idea.

I love love love their friendship so goddamn much, especially in the FAHC universe. Because she's not in the crew, never really even worked with them all that much, just happens to be good friends with them. She's roped Ryan into so many various shenanigans over the years, including: making him go on 6 am runs with her, having him help her plan Gav's birthday party one year, assisting her with a hit during NYFW (which is when the 'Ryan as an undercover model' thing began) and what they refer to as 'The Strip Club Incident'.

Meanwhile, she's become the one Ryan trusts most with anything personal. He's not going to break in the middle of a heist to ask anybody else whether they think he and Jeremy would make a cute couple. He also isn't going to ask if they think he's capable of settling down, or complain about how running affects his knees.

Meg has told him a thousand times that he can absolutely be part of a disgustingly domestic couple, he's made for it, really. She's set him up more times than he can count, never once with any success. Every other week she calls him up with "So I have a friend..."

"How many goddamn friends do you have Meg? And how many do I have to embarrass myself in front of before you stop?"

And then Jeremy joins the crew, and Ryan falls head over heels for him. Just falls so fucking hard it's unbelievable. He mentions it offhand to Meg one night, which he immediately regrets. He tries to play it off like "New guy in the crew, kinda cute, its whatever." But she zeroes in on it.

"The fact that you even admitted he's cute means you actually like him."

"No.... Come on, if that were true I wouldn't have said anything at all!" Which is bullshit, because he knows her well enough that had he avoided any opinion, she would have jumped to the obvious conclusion. He thought the tiny admission would make her assume he wasnt really interested. An attempt at reverse psychology that failed horribly, of course.

They argue back and forth for a bit before he hangs up on her, threatening to make her run alone if she ever brings it up again. Except shes Meg, he literally cant say no to her, and she cant let anything go.

She pesters him on and off for about a month before something happens. He's on the phone with her while she's on a drive to a hit somewhere, lamenting his ever growing crush on Jeremy. "He's hot and he's funny, Meg, this isn't fair."

"Oh my god, so are you, you self deprecating asshole." She says, with this exasperated sigh like they've had this conversation a million times. They have, but she doesnt have to point it out like that. "You're an absolute catch, Ryan, Jeremy would be lucky to have you."

"You and I have different views of me."

"Yeah, I'm right and you're an idiot. And hey, if it all goes to shit I could use a partner. You'd be driving right now and I'd be sleeping."

"Thanks so much. At least I have a fallback career as your chauffeur."

It's a fairly standard conversation, except for the fact that Ryan's in the garage and has her on speakerphone while he fiddles with his bike. It is admittedly, extremely cliche to accidentally discuss someone while the subject of your discussion is listening at the door. Cliche, but also par for the course of Ryan's luck.

"Are you guys talking about me?" Comes a voice from behind Ryan.

Ryan freezes, and Meg laughs through the phone. "Oh shit, Ry, is that who I think it is?"

"Are you- do you like me, Ryan?" Jeremy fully ignores the listening ears on the phone.

"I- Meg, I'm gonna need you to turn around and come help-"

"Sorry Ryan, I'm going through a tunnel!" She says, completely clearly. "But text me and let me know how it goes!"

"Liar, don't you fuckin-" and then she hangs up, and Ryan is left alone with Jeremy. Jeremy who is staring at him, looking mostly confused, and slightly entertained.

"Ryan?"

"Um. I can explain? How- how much did you hear?"

"Meg thinks I'd be lucky to have you and you have a fucked up perception of yourself."

"Oh. I- I have no explanation, actually." He supposes working with Meg wouldnt be too bad. He's not keen on getting stuck with every driving job that comes along though.

"She's right."

"That I'd make a good chauffeur?" Because jokes. Jokes are the way to get out of this.

"I would be lucky to have you. Just... Never thought you'd be interested in me." Jeremy says, and Ryan's brain short circuits.

He says something that he intends to be 'are you serious' but comes out sounding a lot more like his brain just keysmashed. But Jeremy only smiles at him, and Ryan falls a little more.

A week or so later when hes recapping the whole thing over text to Meg, Jeremy sleeping peacefully beside him, he leaves put the part about flubbing his confession. She still calls him out on it though.

'Bet you didnt even say you liked him, just bleh-ed at him until he got it.'

He regrets being friends with her sometimes.

#idk what happened #this got away from me #anyhow i love this idea and thank you anon for coming up with it!#jeremwood #ks talks #anon #maybe someday ill do an actual fic of this??#idk #i live for their frienship and i need more of it

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ziracona · 3 years

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claud/jake/dwight anon here! maybe i’ll just go by wisteria since i’ll be popping up in your askbox from time to time :D

shippy hcs would be wonderful! i was referring to them as an established poly relationship post fic; i actually saw the comment where you were talking about how claudette can fit into different relationships and thought that was so fitting (and such a testament to the beauty of her character, but thats another long winded ask to send another day). once again, thanks for putting out ILM into this world. it’s a joy to read, reread, and treasure <3

Alrighty Wisteria!

Also I’m glad because I initially read it that way and was halfway to answering when I was like ‘wait,’ but my instincts were correct haha.

Claudette/Jake/Dwight is an interesting poly ship. It’s funny, because obviously both of them love her and she loves both of them. Just, I don’t think her priority has ever been having a romantic relationship, and neither has theirs. I also think it just kind of...wouldn’t occur to Dwight or Jake that that was a thing. Like, they know about polyamoury, they know it exists. But I feel like straight up there’d like, be an escape anniversary party or something, and she gives them both super heart felt gifts she clearly loved to make, and they’re both touched, give hugs, pass her their own sweetly made things, last little group hug, she’s like “Love you guys” and as she runs off to go give out other gifts to other loved ones, Jake’s super sincerely like “You too,” and Dwight’s like *looks at him, looks at her, smiles* “Yeah. Love you.” and she’s gone, and someone who they were chatting with before (probably Meg, Nea, or Ace) would joke something like “Why didn’t you two just also marry Claudette? You’d be such a happy trio” casually offhand, and they’d be like “Haha yeah! ... ... ... haha...yeah.... ? (O_O);” type thing that would have to happen, because otherwise they just like, wouldn’t think about it.

Once they did, though, I feel like it would definitely be the same event that clued them both in, so they’d both be like “Hmmm” at the same time, and pick up on that, and talk first, and be like “...Yeah, I mean. Maybe? But would she even be comfortable with that? Is it weird?” And Jake, who has the most secure identity in this area, would not really have any issue from the get-go and would mostly be like “Boy am I stupid for this never occurring to me once”. Dwight would need more time to think and talk stuff through and figure himself out, but is a lot more comfortable than he was. Claudette would be the last one. They’d both approach her at some point, and it would be incredibly awkward and kind of a disaster despite the fact they practiced and thought they had a gameplan, and she’s just like, “What? ...What?” and confused, and she’s a very worry-prone person, so she’d be like “Oh no, did I do something? Is this bad? Do they just feel bad for me? Since I’m not dating and they want me to feel included? Is this a bad idea? What do I even actually want?” and since she’s got the least experience dating, she’d take the longest to think things through. Would talk to Meg, and Quentin, and Philip, and her parents, and Ace. And they’d all help, but Meg would be the most help. Because Meg’s simple. She’d just say, “Well, do you want to be dating them both?” and Claudette would be like, “Well. I don’t know. I love them. And it might be nice to have a romantic relationship with someone I love someday. But I don’t know if this is how I want that, or if it would be good, because I have no idea what this would look or feel like,” and Meg would be like, “Well then why don’t you just like, go on a few dates/hangs like you’re dating, and see if it’s fun and good, or uncomfortable and bad, and if you three all feel like it fits and makes life even better, go for it, and if it turns out to be a mistake like that time Jake and I really thought we’d get some hella traction making out, then say ‘Well that was awful lol. Friends it is!’ and Susie and I will take all of you for drunk lazer-tag.”

And that works, because well, it’s more sensible than any amount of introspection without experience, or thinking, or worrying is. So they give it a go for like a week, and it’s awkward as hell for like the first fifteen minutes, but this is a trio of people who’ve known each other so long and been so fundamentally entrenched in each others’ lives for years, and love and trust each other so completely and deeply, it really can’t be that awkawrd, and everyone has prepped best they can, and kind of laugh at themselves, and just like, spend the day at theme park, and get food, and laugh and talk about life like always, but just this time with a kind of romantic shade, and it’s nice. And there’s a lot of days like that--not all so big, more just, at home, hanging out, doing whatever. And it is weird, because none of them has done this before, but. It’s also fun. And none of them have any weird kind of favoritism insecurities, because they were already pretty well and equally entrenched in each others’ lives before, and it’s fun. Jake is strategic because he’s kind of the planning mind behind this, and gets advice from Meg, and they marathon a lot of Leverage with only Jake knowing this is a sneaky ploy to help the other two get more comfortable, because there’s just not a ton of good filmic poly trio rep, but damn if that show hasn’t got a great one.

I think the trial period just kind of hits the end of it’s week and Jake and Dwight are like “So do you want to keep going?” and she’s like “...Yeah. : ) “ and so they do, and it’s like that for a while. They all move at their own paces, and in their own clearly discussed (and, as well as they know each other, usually already mostly known) comfort zones, and it’s fun, and nice. It also helps that everyone else is not just supportive and chill, but most of them are like, goofily into it.

They’ve been dating for like, four months before any of them explicitly calls it that officially. But it’s cute. Jake wants it to be official so he gets people anniversary gifts and then is kind of embarrassed but more pleased with himself, and it’s very cute and goes over well.

Everyone puts in work to figuring out how to keep this healthy and good, since none of them had a lot of preexisting knowledge for being with multiple people. They all do that their own way. Claudette spends hours and hours doing research online and checking for tips from people online, and really works hard to be a good girlfriend, and it’s very sweet. Meg and especially Quentin both have no real idea how to help her, but clock a lot of hours trying and doing pretty good. So secondarily do Nancy and Susie.

I’m pretty sure eventually they’d have another wedding, legally official or not--and not because any of them really feel a need to, but because they think it would be fun and Claudette should get to dress up too, and tbh it would be cute. I feel like Meg, Ace, and Susie are major factors pushing for this.

All of their parents think it’s a little weird, but their kids were missing for like 4 years getting tortured in hell, and they’re all reasonable people; they don’t say shit. Also, they all like all the other parties involved, so they’re like “Rat’s don’t understand these things” (this is a Muppet Christmas Carol inside joke I use all the time even though only like 4 people get it but I hope it makes some sense from context lol), but figure they don’t really have to to be happy their kids are happy and loved and doing well.

Meg is like “Fuck why didn’t we think of this. Why have I been supporting it when I could have nabbed her for me and Susie?” and Quentin doesn’t say shit but he thinks very loudly, “I know, right? Nancy and me are over here like ‘same hat’ fml,” but genuinely they’re very happy for the three of them and with the relationships they have. There’s just a lot of love to go around.

While there’s probably some kind a wedding eventually, definitely about as soon as they start dating, Jake and Dwight start calling her their wife. She’s flustered and like “But I’m note! I’m just your girlfriend.” and Dwight’s like “Yeah, but that makes it sound weirdly unbalanced,” and Jake who looked this up for this moment is like, “Well, by Quebec common law marriage standards, you actually are our wife--we cohabitated for over three years in the realm, so,” and Dwight’s like “whoa for real?” and she’s just like : o But it kinda helps and she accepts it. The downside is Nea hears the story and tells Meg and together they start just fuckin calling all their realm friends their spouses goofily 24/7 when they want shit like “David, my wonderful strong husband, can you pleeeeease get me a sodie from the fridge? : D <3″ and it’s very funny but it’s also pure chaos. Like, so much more than usual.

#Hope you enjoyed! My day was pure chaos so it took a while but here you go #Anonymous #ask #Wisteria #dead by daylight #in living memory #in living memory (fic)#ILM spoilers #ILM potential timeline author HCs

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barnesandco · 4 years

Text

White Feathers and Melting Wax

Bucky’s trigger words are redefined with Sam’s help.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2020. Word count: 7029. Square filled: “Mutual Pining”

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, questionable food preferences (blame Hasan Minhaj), slight language, nightmares, slow burn, fluff that will make your teeth ache, cliche ending.

A/N: This one is dedicated to @searchingforbucky because I saw her post something about how much she loves SamBucky, which gave me an idea for my SSB, and one thing led to another, so long story short, this story is for you, Meg. Thank you for providing an invaluable and unimaginably difficult service to our fanfic community - you’re a real gem.

It’s Armageddon. Hell on Earth, as if its crust has been made to split open, and all that fury and heat and horror, alongside creatures that nobody could conjure in their worst nightmares, is pouring out. Taking revenging for millenium upon millenium of imprisonment, it is biting and scratching and clawing its way through the best of humanity, bringing out the worst of humanity – the murder, the anger, the rage – in the process. Wakandan skies, once bluer than the surface of Lake Tiorati on a July day, are raining ash and smolder.

Sam’s arm is bleeding. A particularly agile alien caught the bared portion of his bicep – stupid, stupid, uniform design – and blood drips as he tries to increase his altitude, and find a better angle. Steve notices him from over the shoulder of his own opponent – of course he does, Steve never misses anything – and frowns in a moment of concern that the enemy recuperates in, because Sam is now a more visible target, but he is also good at math. The risk-benefit calculations are telling him that it’s worth it, and the glint of gun-metal fingers he sees in the distance, the owner of which is struggling to cope with half a dozen demons, confirms that.

Barnes is doing the best he can, teeth bared as he attempts to fend them off with a very impressive, but near-empty machine gun and a dagger that’s doing more harm than good. Moments away from defeat, and from an unholy death. His hair is nothing but a second skin sticking to his face and scalp with sweat and monster slobber. Should’ve tied it back, Rapunzel, Sam has time to think before landing in the thick of it. Growls and roars and snarls mix as he manages to join backs with Barnes, both at each other’s six, until nobody can tell which battle cries are animal and which are human. He must be longing for a fight like the one at Leipzig now.

Within minutes, the horde has thinned, but not ended, seemingly infinite in magnitude and strength, and they’re still fighting. The pain from his arm has dulled to an aching throb, lulled into faint numbness by the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and has joined the other innumerable wounds that litter his body. He can hear Barnes’ gun behind him, like bass-boosted fireworks. It’s a square dance – an intuitive one rather than practiced, because he knows his partner as well as he knows what else the cosmos might hold for them - his back against Barnes’ as they parry and spar with each of their individual opponents. A twist and a turn, a lucky, peripheral glimpse at someone trying to blindside the other resulting in as short a tight-lipped nod as they can afford to convey their gratitude.

Sam’s stomach is sinking, he wants to throw up in the face of the evil creature he’s fighting; the scent of ozone an impending warning. They seem to have understood that the winged man and his metal-armed companion are a threat, and a ring of them has coordinated to close in around them. Sam finds a gap in which to press the for emergencies only button on his control panel at the same time as Barnes’ unleashes a series of small grenades in his arm.

The wings leave Sam’s back and turn to lethal blades, spinning like a deadly boomerang around them, and his ears ring when the grenades detonate. In the eye of the storm, Sam and Barnes are safe, but shooting adrenaline-deaf and fear-blind, the battle overcoming their every sense and soul. When the smoke clears, there is a moment of quiet amidst the terror, where sparrow brown meets ice blue, framed by blood spatter, and they quirk the sort of intrinsic, basic, smile at each other that can only emerge from overcoming something inexplicably tremendous as one unit. But then the moment ends.

Barnes shouts – an unintelligible sound of shock - and the sky cracks like an egg.

---

Bucky wakes up in an open field, the sky the color of egg yolks, golden, glistening, nourishing. For a moment, he thinks he’s still in Wakanda, the threat miraculously eliminated, but then he gathers enough strength to sit up and note the absence of obsidian skyscrapers in the distance. He can’t evaluate any other landmarks before his eyes lower to the ground he’s lying on and realize that he’s not alone. Scores of bodies litter the grass; his stomach flips and writhes, and he turns onto his hands and knees and heaves up the contents of today’s – is it still today? – breakfast. Closes his eyes to shut in the water that elicits. When he opens his eyes, the vomit is gone.

Moreover, his hands are clean. Not a trace of blood, dirt, and death on the metal or the accents that run across it like tributaries of a golden river, nor on the white skin of his human limbs. In fact, it looks like it’s been scrubbed pink, his epithelium infused with roses. There is no risk of tears now, the surprise so visceral he knows not how to treat it. It doesn’t lessen when something stirs, in the corner of his eye, and he stills the scream in his larynx just long enough to recognize the shape of Sam Wilson, his dark-brown skin shimmering topaz in the sunlight they seem to be laying in. A sigh of relief – intuitive, subconscious - loosens Bucky’s shoulders. He’s not as alone as he might have thought. Sam is confused, too, and he stands up quickly, reaching for a gun that isn’t there.

Bucky waits, knowing better than to scare him as he reorients himself, and watches as Sam grapples with the black trousers and shirt he finds himself wearing instead of the weapons he’s seeking. Others move, and Bucky – not knowing where this cold peace that fills his lungs is coming from – finds it prudent to speak up now.

“Wilson,” is still all he can say, but it’s enough. That one word, two syllables, six letters – sufficient to erase the taste of rusted blood from his mouth. Sam turns to him as others call for their loved ones, the amber gold of his irises meeting his icy ones. Bucky doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t know how he got here, he’s so tired dammit, but if this man – this man who has defied law and land for the people he trusts and the values he holds, this man who he knows nothing about besides the fact that he has a moral compass like the North Star – if this man has his six, they can fight their way out. Sam’s eyes and Bucky’s brain tell him that this isn’t heaven or hell or purgatory. They’ve both seen too many prison walls to not recognize more, be they grey concrete, the insides of their own skulls, or a vaulted arch of sunshine above their heads.

---

Clouds have built and gone grey-black, iron heavy, and are preparing to mourn the loss of a good man, but not a single tear escapes Sam’s eyes the day they bury Steve. Old, feeble, fulfilled Steve, that is, who passed on to wherever noble souls go. Bucky couldn’t make himself give the eulogy, so it was, like the mantle of Captain America, passed on to Sam. Sam, who has spent every other day of the past year on the porch of his house with Steve’s wisdom and wit, and knew him better than Bucky who forced himself to make a trip every week.

Bucky, who now stands in front of his tombstone, head bowed and brow furrowed, couldn’t make himself reconcile this Steve with the one he knew. Sam doesn’t fault him that, would never give himself any right to. They’ve all seen some shit, but he can’t bring himself to even touch the tip of the iceberg that weighs on his companion’s shoulders. He’s tied his hair back into a bun at the nape of his neck, chestnut waves tamed to an orderly presentation. Domestic, even. Sam looks behind him and through the graveyard gate at the sound of a car door shutting, as Sharon gets behind the wheel and smiles at him, her own tears long gone, before making her departure.

Intentions to give Bucky his silent farewell are also interrupted by that background sound, and he turns to look at Sam, whose heart leaps to his throat at the sight of him. He’s been seeing him all day, but the veil of public appearance has fallen, and Bucky – Sam reprimands himself for the morbid comparison – now looks like as much of a skeleton above the ground as those under it. He’s pale, eyes not hollow but sad. His hands clench and unclench, reflexively, protectively, drawing Sam’s gaze. Those knuckles must be sore with how tightly the ghost-white skin over them is stretched. Sam’s own hands are in his pockets, and he looks back at Bucky with the warmth of seventeen bonfires.

A desperate attempt, futile in result and heavy in empathy, to ease some of the hurt, the hurricane that Sam is certain is throwing Bucky’s insides around like a rag doll. Bucky’s recovering, he’s better now, he’s working to be alright, and it’s working, but climbing the glaciers of his trauma is a Herculean task. Which, now that Sam thinks about it, can only be accomplished one step at a time, like any other. Ice melts a drop at a time.

“Hey, man, how are you feeling?” He says, approaching him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. To anyone else, the question might seem insensitive – his best friend, or this new version of him – has just been buried, of course he’s not feeling good, but their language is like that. Straightforward. Blunt and no-nonsense, but layered with understanding that has come to be through shared experiences and an emotional connection that speaks more between them than any words they exchange. Bucky turns back towards the tombstone, and Sam, too, looks at the epithet of Steven Grant Rogers, beloved husband, father, and friend. Human, not superhuman, in the end, the way they all want to be. They way they long to be acknowledged as.

“I’ll be alright, Sam. Just a little confused,” he answers eventually, after a long-suffering sigh. Sam is relieved, because the hope in Bucky’s voice is the best he could want to hear. And the fact that even now, when articulating what he feels must be the hardest thing in the world, he still manages to, as honestly as he can. Honesty is the beacon Sam’s heart searches for, and he’s found it here. It’s incomplete sometimes, and offered in brief words because Bucky isn’t always fond of sharing, but it’s always the truth.

“Me, too. Me. Too.” Sam nods in agreement, thinking of the muddle of thoughts and prayers and desires in his mind, as the first drop of rain falls from a steely sky, washing away old wounds, cleansing their skins for new ones.

---

The mass of blue-black ink that is the night sky is the first witness when Bucky starts writhing under his sheets.

He’s stuck in the cold. Not the glass walls of the cryochamber he knows so intimately, no, he’s buried in snow up to his neck. The unending scene of the icy mountainside stretches out before him, like a postcard from a nightmare, and he can’t move. Tries to wiggle his toes, and the snow bites and nips at his feet. Hands are frozen to his sides, and the panic starts to claw at his chest. Icicles seem to have wedged their way between his ribs, and pain sears through his abdomen.

He screams. An echo. He screams louder, hot tears turning to ice halfway down his cheeks. He screa-

Eyes the color of the first hour of daybreak appear inches from his sweat-stained and misery-sodden face, and he sits up, almost hitting Sam’s head with his own. His breathing is broken, every inhale cuts at the inside of his lungs, and every exhale tears at his trachea. Sam, trying to fix that, takes Bucky’s clammy hand in his calloused, safe one, places it over his chest.

“Breathe with me, c’mon,” he urges in a midnight rasp, exaggerates his breaths, and Bucky follows the movements he is making. Follows the way Sam’s bare chest, dusted silver by moonlight, rises to accommodate the air he takes in. Follows Sam’s eyes, the silent plea they convey to do as he does, holding that breath. Follows the release, pretends that he can hear the breath traverse his trachea, and exit his lips as his mouth parts to release it. Bucky’s calmer now, eyes fixated on how Sam’s tongue peeks out to lick his lips, the lush pillows of light brown now shining wet. It’s only when they start moving that Bucky’s gaze returns to Sam’s eyes, and his words reach his ears.

“You haven’t had one that bad in ages.” It’s a fact. A statement, an accurate observation, but because few serious words ever go wasted between them, it is also an open assertion. An invitation for Bucky to say more, with the option to nod and agree left on the table.

“Yeah, it was. I’ll be alright, though, Sammy. Thanks,” he responds, and Sam nods warily. Sits back on his haunches, knees digging into the mattress.

“Good. Do you, uh…” He scratches the back of his head. “Do you want me to stay?” He asks, and Bucky is suddenly, keenly aware of how close they are. He swings his legs over the edge and stands on shaky knees, hiding the blush that originated from fear and adrenaline and has been maintained by something he can’t name or explain. A nervous laugh as he makes his way to his dresser and pulls out a fresh pair of sweats.

“No, no, I’m going running. There’s no way I’ll fall asleep right now, and it’s almost dawn anyway.” Bucky waits in front of his bathroom door. Hears Sam get up and make for the door.

“Alright, Bucky. I’d go with you-“

“You pulled that muscle yesterday, yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about me,” Bucky says, and when the door shuts behind Sam, rushes to the bathroom to wash off the watercolor that interaction painted across his cheeks. Gripping the granite vanity with both hands, he watches it drip off, eyes radiating a bewildering plethora of emotions. Hears the nightingale depart from his bedroom windowsill, and fly off into the night.

---

It’s a beautiful morning, punctuated by the dot of the golden, glowing Sun in the distance, but Sam doesn’t have it in him to appreciate the first sunshine after a spell of rain. Sam is disgusted. Horrified, mortified, petrified by this new development. He didn’t think the former Winter Soldier could get any scarier when he wanted to be, but he has grossly underestimated the cruel ways of his best friend. Anyone without a direct line of sight into the cereal bowl in front of Bucky would not know what he’s so upset about. But Sam, standing at the stove on the kitchen island across from Bucky, watches in horror as the latter lifts a spoonful of dry-as-the-Sahara-desert Froot Loops to his mouth, chews, and then takes a sip from a glass of milk.

To say that Sam regrets introducing Bucky to sweet breakfast cereals in an effort to sate his incurable sweet tooth is a severe understatement. When Bucky had disapprovingly forced down soggy, sweet Froot Loops the morning before, and grumbled about the disgusting experience for the rest of the day, Sam did not think that this would be the solution. He thought he’d be forced to finish off the rest of the box, and dreaded the toothache that would follow.

“I’m eating it like this, or not at all.” Bucky finally addresses the outrage written all over Sam.

“I think I prefer not at all,” he says gravely, his tone out of sync with the cheery scent of sunny-side-up eggs that his words waft across to reach Bucky.

“Too late, I love these,” Bucky says through another mouthful of dry cereal. He’s intentionally pushing as many buttons as he can at one time, a master at multitasking his way to maximum irritation. Sam shudders. Puts his eggs on a plate and goes to sit down next to Bucky at the island, one stool between them. Saturday mornings after a good night and a better workout are a good look on Bucky, as much as he hates to admit it.

Aureate beams of bubbling sunlight illuminate his side profile, his cheekbones glowing rose-gold and light dispersing through a bead of water that slides down his temple. All of a sudden, Sam isn’t hungry anymore. The last bite of his first egg feels like clay in his mouth, and he empties his glass of water in one go. Bucky looks up from his almost-empty bowl – thank God it’s almost over - and looks at Sam with concern. It takes all of Sam’s power, and then some, to tear his eyes away from Bucky’s teeth biting into his pink lower lip, and up to his blue eyes.

“You okay, man?” He asks, and Sam nods.

“It’s nothing, just got lost in thought,” he answers, and he’s being truthful. Doesn’t know what came over him, just that the slow surveillance of Bucky’s features led him down a different path than it usually does. They’ve always watched each other cautiously, know each other’s movements with the kind of precision that makes you wonder if the haven’t known each other for centuries rather than years, a couple of which were spent in animosity. Bucky’s eyes flit between his again, and they find nothing to prod at further, so he returns to his cereal.

Sam hurries to finish his breakfast and clean up after himself, before heading back to his room with a half-coherent excuse and a heat in his cheeks too hot to be caused by morning sunshine. Thanks God for melanin and for intimate knowledge of the super-soldier hearing range on his way down to the garage.

The rumble of the car’s engine is a relief, and the first breath he takes off the premises of the compound even more so. A little guilt nibbles at him, but it would’ve eaten him alive if he didn’t know that Bucky intended to work on the plans for the library today, and so he keeps driving.

Sam isn’t stupid. That furnace warmth, the magnetic way Bucky’s being drew his gaze, it’s unmistakable. In his sound head and solid heart, he knows what it is. And that’s why his heart is beating so fast, why it won’t take a goddamn break around those blue eyes and sunny smile. Sam is too self aware to be too stupid, too blind to his feelings. He’s just nervous. A cup of coffee from his favorite place downtown won’t do much to settle, but it will give him room. And he needs room.

Because Sam has never done this before. Never acted on feelings for someone who he can’t afford to lose. Maybe, the risk-benefit balance is not tipping in his favor. However, he can’t say for sure, if he knows what result is in his favor anymore. Is the torment of this schoolboy crush worth not risking his friendship?

Sam exhales through his teeth, and looks out the window. Decides to go flying when he gets back in order to clear his head. Maybe that canopy made from blue satin holds the answers.

---

Birds are chirping on the balcony railing, their silky brown bodies picturesquely contrasting against the cottony blue sky behind them. Pretty enough to frame, and Bucky commits another scene to memory that he might want to paint some day. Closes his belt buckle and then picks up the brush but does a double take at the reflection that looks back at him from the dressing table mirror.

He looks healthier than he has in years, but that’s not what’s remarkable. No, it’s the length of his hair. The brown waves reach his collarbones, and he runs his hand through it with a huff, putting down the brush and leaving his room. Sam’s in the living room, and he can hear Earth, Wind, and Fire playing from down the hall. He enters the room to see Sam lounging on the sofa with a laptop in his hand.

“Hey, Sammy, you busy?” He asks, walking up to him. Sam looks up, turns the music down.

“No. Why, what’s up?” He says, placing the laptop down next to him, and Bucky sees that he was online shopping for clothes.

“I need you to cut my hair,” he tells him, sitting down on the sofa. Sam blinks. Once, twice, thrice. His face splits in a toothy grin of agreement, and it disarms Bucky so much that he forgets completely to be angry at the smug look on his face.

“Not that I wouldn’t love to ruin your hair, Rapunzel, but are you sure you don’t wanna go to a barber?”

“Yes. You do it.” Bucky nods assuredly, willfully ignoring the nickname, relieved to be rid of it soon, too, but hoping that Sam will know, unspoken, what he is trying to say. He’s gotten better around people, around strangers, but he doesn’t trust them. Not with sharp objects, and especially not with handling sharp objects in such proximity to him. And there’s a part of him, perhaps the old romantic, the one who is just a little on the sentimental side, that prefers for such a change – small though it may seem, it speaks magnitudes to someone who craves stability now – to be made by the person he is closest to. So Bucky is grateful, when that person, Sam, agrees, with a nod back.

Fifteen minutes sees them in Bucky’s bathroom, him sitting on a stool in front of the vanity, a towel over his shoulders, and Sam behind him with scissors. He lifts the spray bottle from the counter with his free hand and spritzes Bucky’s hair. It’s cold, refreshing, and gentle stray drops land on his face. Bucky’s hands are clenching around his knees, red fingerprints growing darker on the skin just below where his shorts end. It took him two summers to feel comfortable enough to wear those. Sam has a matching pair.

He raises the scissors to the side of Bucky’s head, just by his right ear, opens them, and then pauses. Moves to the back instead, raises the scissors, stops again. A heavy sigh ruffles Bucky’s hair, and he looks at Sam’s reflection. He looks back.

“I don’t know where to start, man. I have no clue what to do with this,” Sam says, exasperated already, gesturing towards Bucky’s head with one hand and almost running the other over his own head before remembering the scissors he still holds in it. Bucky doesn’t say anything, but throws him a look up and over his shoulder that seems to say You think I do?

Shaking his head, Sam starts again. Bucky closes his eyes, his body hairs standing on edge as the scissors start clipping. A coarse, large, warm hand rests on the back of his neck to steady his head, the point of contact burning.

“I think it’s short enough to use the machine,” he whispers, as if conveying a holy secret. He turns on the clippers and soon, the buzzing sound fills the room. Bucky doesn’t reopen his eyes, lets Sam trim the edges short on the sides and back, and keep it a little longer on the top, as per their pre-determined plan of action.

He starts running his fingers across Bucky’s scalp as he’s finishing up and making the final touches, and every nerve ending of his lights up. When Sam announces that he’s done, and Bucky’s lungs collapse and then swell like balloons at the sight of his new appearance, and his eyes meet Sam’s, the world stops.

They’re inches apart, once again. Eye to eye, nose to nose. Heart to beating, fluttering heart. Thank you’s are glued to his tongue and his tongue is paralyzed in his mouth, his mouth dry and wanting. He counts nine heartbeats, and begins to lean in on the tenth, but the eleventh brings the obnoxiously loud sound of his phone ringing from the bedroom, and the bubble bursts.

Bucky answers Peter’s call with less concern than he usually does, the affection and mentorship for the teenager overshadowed by the almost-moment. The one that makes him want to scream into the New York skyline.

---

Flaming red hair reaches as far as Sam’s eyes are concerned, accentuated by the backdrop of the setting sun, an unusual hour for sparring, but a crucial one today. Nat is visiting from the European headquarters in Budapest, where she is SHIELD’s head of the region. It’s a calmer job, safer than Avengers duty, but she works herself to the bone and lets out her frustration in the gun range or the sparring mat, with the latter making for better quality time with her teammate today. Not that Sam’s much for competition right now, and she doesn’t mince moves or waste time. He puts up as much of a fight as he can, but she has him on the ground in fifteen minutes. A new record.

She helps him up and he passes her her water bottle in return as the sit on the mat. Her outstretched legs prod at his knees.

“You were off your game, Wilson,” she says, as if he doesn’t already know. As if he doesn’t know he was too busy counting days since Bucky’s haircut to counter her moves. It’s been twelve, and every hour exponentially increases the tangible awkwardness between them.

“Distracted.” Sam shrugs truthfully. Nat’s laugh isn’t cruel or taunting, but teasing and friendly, a lightweight windchime.

“Yeah, I can tell. Want to tell me why?” She asks, with another sip from her bottle.

“Like you don’t already know,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes. Tilting her head, she looks at him like a curious robin. Like she’s trying to pluck out the secrets like wildflowers in his head.

“I just know it has something to do with Barnes. You can hardly look at each other.” She says, giving him her hand to take off the boxing tape, and he picks at the edge it’s bound at. Tries to ignore the piercing stare she’s focusing on his head.

Once the tape is off, he tries to drink from his bottle again. His throat is parched, and he doesn’t think it has much to do with the exercise any longer. Natasha’s stare turns to a glare, but eventually, she seems to relent, trying at another joke.

“What, did you kiss him?” She murmurs, reaching for her bottle. Sam sputters, water going in his windpipe, and Nat’s eyes widen as she watches him cough and cough and cough. “Are you serious? Oh my God, Sam, did you really?”

“No, no, no, shit, no. That’s crazy, Nat,” he says, standing and starting to powerwalk to the showers but Nat follows quickly, light on her feet and heavy with her questions.

“Then what was that for?” Nat asks, pointing towards the mat where he just had that undue coughing fit. Shit. Keep digging your own grave, Wilson, keep digging.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s fine,” he says, and she quirks an eyebrow. Crosses her arms. He’s known Nat for too long and too well to not be entirely aware that talking to her is for his best. And Sam is a lot of things, but he isn’t stupid. He follows her back to the mat like a lost puppy, and consoles himself with the fact that he’s reduced a master assassin to near-gossip.

“Well?”

So he tells her. Sam picks at the mat with bitten fingernails as he relays the tale of the five years of pragmatic planning and professionalism under imprisonment in the Soul Stone, during which they talked little but shop and pretended not to see the fear in each other.

Sam avoids Nat’s emerald gaze while he tells her about the first year as Captain America, with the weight of the mantle so heavy that Bucky became the crutch he leaned on, a super-soldier it took everything to put back into the world.

Sam closes his eyes when he recalls Steve’s funeral, and the instant he decided that Bucky Barnes wasn’t just a miracle, he was one of the most beautiful people Sam had ever met.

Sam watches the punching bags sway while talking about the warmth that spreads like bushfire whenever Bucky is near, but also about how he is at his coolest and calmest next to him, because he gets him.

Sam sees the sky transition from peach to indigo telling Nat about the moment in the bathroom, where that emotional connection almost manifested itself physically, and how those feelings that he thought were benign became dangerous, boiling under the surface, and how he doesn’t know whether to bury them, or set them free.

---

Icarus. The legend of Icarus and his melting wings, his broken body drowning is the first thing to enter Bucky's mind as the quinjet lands on the helicarrier and Sam is wheeled out on a stretcher and rushed to Dr. Cho's cradle. A trail of blood follows, dripping slowly despite the medics' attentions, and that's what seals Bucky's trance. He doesn't have answers for Hill or Fury - it's a morbid game of Hansel and Gretel, right up to the entrance of the medical wing.

The sterile whites and greys, alongside the vague hum or nurses barring his entry into the trauma bay and Fury's raging demands for answers are secondary sensations. Lost behind the veil. He has to watch through the glass as Sam is put in the cradle, but there’s so much blood. The Director and Assistant Director talk calmly now, suggesting that Bucky get his own wounds checked, but he is blind to their concerns, so they give him the space they see he needs.

It takes an hour to heal Sam. A torturous, unending hour, that has Bucky pacing across the floor, smearing blood and mud across pristine tiles, his mind humming so loud he can’t hear himself think. When it’s over, he has just enough presence to follow Sam’s unconscious body as it’s wheeled to a recovery room, where he sits at his bedside.

However, he doesn’t stay seated for long. Can’t look at his friend’s wounded form, helpless and undoubtedly in screaming pain, although he may not feel it. His body does, and he will feel it when he’s awake. Bucky stands and moves to look out the window. Absently, he scrapes at the clots of blood drying under his nails and in between the panels of his other arm. Part of him recalls the term dissociation, used by his SHIELD appointed psychiatrist, and the consequent recovery techniques. An alert corner of his subconscious is grateful that these episodes aren't as frequent any more. Or as debilitating, most of the time. Just… distracting, with the fog that pierces his ears and diffuses inside his skull until he's numb. Weightless. Recovery techniques. Right. Touch, taste, smell, sound, sight. Glass and metal, blood and sand, jet fuel, whirring engines; open, open, sky.

Bucky likes the sky. Likes to watch clouds form, transform into something new, drift onwards to a better place. A better view than he must present. The infinite stretch of blue. Sometimes, he paints his own clouds on the sky in his mind's eye, but right now that canvas is dripping red - fists clench tight above his thighs - dripping red, white, and blue, Sam is dripping red, white, and blue, and he's falling, Icarus to the ocean.

Falling, falling, falling.

Oh.

Bucky jerks upright. Shakes his head, wipes a blood stained strand of hair back. Forces air into his lungs - it's thinner up here, colder, too, so he has to focus, feel the bite, good - and then: clarity.

He remembers where he is, the smoothness of tiles under his feet, the sweat sodden uniform sticking to his skin, the physicalities of his position return, as does the feel of his beating heart. But there's something new in the way it hammers against his ribs. Something gentler, that prompts a flutter of intrigue, until he realizes what it is, until he can name the newborn emotion screaming to be heard inside his heart.

Hot forehead against cold glass. Hot tears on hotter cheeks. Bucky lets them fall as he tries to face the sky again.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he tells the clouds. Not because he doesn’t want to be in love, or because he is love with a man instead of a woman, or because said man is Sam Wilson, but because it’s just so inconvenient. Because there is no happiness to be found in lives like these, and because it is an impossibility that a man with a heart as pristine a golden could want one with bruises and stains that stretch across every inch of skin. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

And he swears he can hear his Ma answer from the sky: Why of course, you didn’t, my baby boy. No one ever does. Doesn’t mean it isn’t right, or meant to be so. The universe has a way with these things. Knows how to put people together, just like a starling knows to hide her nest from crows. It’s nature, James.

Nobody’s called him James since Winnifred Barnes. Nobody ever will. But “Bucky” doesn’t sound so bad coming from Sam’s voice. Returning to his bedside and slumping into the chair, Bucky hopes he’ll only live long enough to tell him so.

Bucky, post-war, post-Winter Soldier, doesn’t know all that much about fate or the universe, nor does he know a thing about love, but he knows homecoming. And Sam, his eyelashes delicate against skin like gold poured over tourmaline, is home.

All resistance leaves Bucky with a muted sigh. It’s like he can feel the adrenaline, the fight-or-flight, both physical and emotional, evaporate when he takes in the expression of calm that has washed over Sam’s features. He takes half a dozen deep, deep breaths. Allows the oxygen to cleanse him from the inside out, and now, he has enough presence of mind to feel the exhaustion entering his bones. Aside from the scrape on his cheek, none of the blood on his being is his own. He should clean up, he knows that, but he thinks he’ll throw up if he tries to stand up again, so he breathes instead. Breathes in the fact that Sam is alive like he needs that statement to live. So that he doesn’t forget it, and wake up screaming - wouldn’t be the first time - he imprints it into his memory.

Only then do his shoulders stop guarding his neck, relaxing and hitting the back of the chair he’s sat on. The air conditioner whirrs on, and Sam’s breaths are puffs of cotton in the air, that if Bucky focuses enough on, he can envision as clouds. Clouds that turn to sheep, sheep that he counts, and it doesn’t take many of them before he is fast asleep.

---

The day Happy and May get married, Sam almost asks Bucky for a dance, under a starlit sky that twinkles like fairy lights. The months since his injury have been better than those before, contrasting a new smile, and a lighter face, against the tangible sense of will-we-won’t-we. They’re still tense, still have moments where they can’t read each other, still almost talk about it, but their companionship has returned.

This is obvious in the grin Bucky throws him with a roll of his eyes over Nat’s shoulder, as Sam twirls May around like he’s trying to make her nauseous. The poor bride tolerates his hijinks for all of one song before politely excusing herself, as does Nat, pretending that Bucky hasn’t gotten better at dancing again after practicing for months on end. She throws Sam a wink as she leaves the dance floor, and Sam swallows before turning tail and going to get a drink, leaving Bucky to find another dance partner. He quells a bubble of his own nausea as a wonderful girl – Annie something, from May’s work – tries to ask for a dance. To his surprise, Bucky refuses, and then Sam feels guilty for the cheer that goes up in him.

It’s short-lasting, overwhelmed once again by the anxiety that comes with interacting with Bucky. Sometimes, he thinks he sees roses bloom under Bucky’s footstep, the scent of him so alluring. At others, like now, the weight of his gaze is so heavy, he thinks he should drown under it if he doesn’t release the secret in his chest. If he doesn’t tell Bucky that he remembers waking up in that hellicarrier holding an asleep Bucky’s hand, with an asleep Bucky’s lips pressed to the back of his own. And that he liked it.

“It’s a nice party,” he says, tipping back the champagne flute in his hand. He can’t get drunk, and it takes large sips for him to even feel the spark in his throat, the movement exposing a stretch of slender, soft skin. It’s a matter of milliseconds, barely one breath, but Sam’s mouth is dry, useless but for a nod of agreement with a survey of the hall. Nat is wiggling her eyebrows at him from across the dance floor, and Bucky has to repeat his name twice to regain his attention, something that he immediately loses to the color of Bucky’s eyes upon turning towards him. He breaks eye contact and looks away again with another nod.

“Yeah, yeah, it was a great day. I’m really happy for those two,” Sam says honestly, gesturing towards the bride and groom, who are chatting away with Pepper.

“So you’re happy for Happy?” Bucky murmurs and Sam snorts, downing his glass, and shaking his head.

“Ha ha ha, what are you, twelve?”

“You may have to check my birth certificate to find out,” he deadpans, and Sam pinches the bridge of his nose as Bucky cackles. He glares at him, but soon, the corner of Bucky’s eyes crinkling while the sound of his laughter echoes comes into alarming focus against May and Happy swaying in the background, and Sam doesn’t need to wonder what it’s like to feel so much joy and such magnanimous love from someone that you decide to bind yourself to them forever. In fact, Sam decided a long time ago that Bucky was the one person he couldn’t live without any longer. The only difference now is that the emotions that went into that definition have changed. The twinkling sky winks down at him, as if to reaffirm that that realization is correct, and to tell him that he’s on the right path.

---

The city of New York stretches out through the window before them, buildings piercing the dusk that is settling above, and Bucky and Sam sit against the freshly dried paint in the living room of Bucky’s childhood home. It has taken four years after the Blip, four years of newfound stability, of recovery and building up and breaking down and defining his life for his own, to come back to what his life used to be. He thought it only fitting that the man who played the most invaluable part in helping him to his feet be with him at the most magnificent landmark of his progress, of his new life.

The building had, wondrously, been the same one, in that it hadn’t been demolished and rebuilt, only thoroughly renovated. Bucky had bought it several months ago, and Sam had instantly been enraptured by the idea of rebuilding this apartment. Only the furniture remains now, the empty rooms freshly painted and smelling of paint and paper, sawdust and sandalwood and sweat. Bucky looks over at Sam as he closes his eyes, and watches the sunset light his skin like honey on dark silk. Glimmering, glowing.

It hits him like a freight car. The notion that even though his life has been longer than most, it is too short to abandon what you love. Bucky is scared. He’s been scared his whole life. He was scared to go to war that first time, he was scared for his life when he was captured, he was scared for Steve when he went after Hydra, he was scared when he became Hydra, he was scared. And angry. And he doesn’t want to be any longer, even if the alternative is regret and shame. Those would still be new emotions.

That’s what has him turning to Sam, the rustle of his jeans alerting him so he opens his eyes. A question swimming in their content depths. Bucky answers it.

“I love you, Sam,” he says, heart in his throat. Sam gulps, like there’s something he wants to say but doesn’t know how to, that there are words lodged in his throat that he longs to set free, and Bucky tells him he knows what they are already. Doesn’t need the words spoken, now or ever, when they’re so visible in how Sam can do nothing but lift his hands and cups his face in them. The I love you, too, is folded like a hidden love note between their lips, passed to Bucky when they meet, and Sam moves his mouth like flower petals over glass. Bucky kisses back. He kisses back harder, tilts his head so they’re like puzzle pieces, his heartbeat taking flight. When they stop, the sky is as pink as roses, the gold accent wall behind them is smoldering, glowering with light. Their foreheads rest against each other’s, Bucky’s hand rests over Sam’s to hold him there, and they fit together like the stars fit in the sky.

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#ayesha writes #SSB2020 #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sam wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sam wilson #sambucky #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #fanfic

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-10)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Implied smut, fluff :)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: No angst again! And good stuff. I am being very nice these days ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Athina, you’re a goddess <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

10th September 2008

You woke up to something soft tickling your face, almost feather light and pleasant. Opening your eyes, you found Sam’s arms wrapped around you, nestling you in them. A glowing warmth spread through your body as you remembered last night, his lips on your skin, and the feel of his hot breath on your face. The way he had called out for you was enough to raise goosebumps on your skin now. And he’d said he loved you. Your heart thrummed in your chest at the memory.

Slowly, you removed his arm from over your body and slipped out of bed. You wanted to kiss him on his forehead or the point of his nose but Sam looked so peaceful you didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

You pulled over the T-shirt and the boxers Sam had lent you last night and headed down to the kitchen. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to skip dinner after a morning of hangover because your stomach was churning weirdly.

Would everything be different now? After last night. You felt like your heart would burst from all the love you were feeling. Without giving the task at hand much thought, you fried some eggs, toasted the bread and put the coffee pot on a boil, wondering what Sam had for breakfast.

With an excitement that you had never felt before, you carried the tray laden with food upstairs, wondering how to wake Sam up. As it turned out, Sam was already sitting up, a confused expression on his face. The sheets were bunched around his waist and the sight of his naked torso made your face feel hot. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, a smile replacing the frown.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the tray before him and then joining him on the bed.

His eyes softened. “You didn’t need to,” he said, gesturing towards the food. “Not seeing you here, I was starting to worry that last night had been a dream.”

“Only the best dream of my life,” you muttered, pouring his coffee. “Black with half spoon sugar. Just like you have it.”

Sam was still stuck on your words. He took the cup from your hands and placed it back on the tray, then pulled you to him. “That’s just it. I didn’t want it to be a dream. Even if it was the best dream ever. All dreams, even the best ones end when you wake up. But with you… I don’t ever want this to end.”

You reached out and kissed him. At first he was surprised, then he leaned into it. Kissing Sam was like a breath of fresh air for your soul. If it was left to you, you would spend an obscene amount of time kissing him.

“This is one way to start the day,” he chuckled.

“Mhmmm…” you sighed, handing him the coffee and starting on the eggs.

“Funny that Jo didn’t turn the place upside down looking for me,” you wondered idly. You should have told her where you were last night.

“I called her when you got here,” Sam said. “When er… when you were having a bath.”

Sam was always so thoughtful. Last night it hadn’t even occurred to you to let Jo know, about the acceptance or the fact that you were here, and you weren’t particularly proud of it. Absentmindedly, you scooted closer to Sam and like it was the most natural thing to do, he put his arm around you. The heat coming of his skin and his scent was so comforting, you all but melted against his side. A girl could get used to this.

“Hey,” Sam nudged you with his lips pressed in your hair. “You know that NC Central is only a seven hour drive from New York, right?”

Of course you knew that. It was a great school, but it was also on the East coast, where Sam would be. You nodded against his neck, lightly tracing the hard lines of his stomach.

“I could drive over the weekends to see you.” There was hope in his voice.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled at the thought of it all. A new school, a new life with Sam in it. You thought of happy weekends and flinging yourself into his arms whenever you saw him. You pictured his wide smiles, and the joy in his eyes when he saw you. “I could hop on a bus on Friday night and be there in New York in the morning. You’d show me around, wouldn’t you? I’ve never been to such a big city.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never wanted that job more than now. Hell, I’d throw myself into preparing for the bar, if it keeps us that close now.”

“Mhmm.” You huddled closer to him.

“What’re you thinking?”

“About how I’m going to afford this,” you said. “NC central isn’t that expensive, but it’s still a lot considering I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t want to sell off Gran’s house.”

“You want to make it into a bakery, I remember,” he said, gently, then added hesitantly. “Maybe I could-”

“No!” You sat up straight. “Absolutely not. I can’t ask this from you.” You hurried to explain, seeing the slightly hurt expression on his face. “This isn’t about you in any way. It’s very kind of you to offer, it really is. But I want to do this by myself. I’ll apply for a student’s loan. Like I said, the money isn’t an impossible sum. I just need a guarantor to vouch for me at the bank. I don’t want to ask aunt El cause I know she had some bank problems with the diner. She doesn’t trust them very much.”

Sam looked thoughtful.

“What’re you thinking?” You asked suspiciously. “Don’t think about volunteering.”

His finger was drawing a pattern on your shoulder as he licked his lips. “You know I can’t. I don’t own any property myself. You should ask Dean, though.”

“Dean?” You looked up at him surprised. “Why would he?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Sam countered. “He might not show it, but he does like you. You’re not asking him to pay for your college, you’re just asking him to be a guarantor. He has great credit, the bank won’t refuse that. It’s not like you’re going to dupe him. I know my brother. Trust me, he’ll be happy to help you.”

When you still looked surprised, Sam took hold of your hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t overthink this. You said you wanted to do this by yourself, so you bring it up with him. I promise I won’t say a word.”

“You’re awesome. You know that, right?”

He winked. “I don’t know about that. But I’m sure happy you think that!”

You removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the side table, then moved over to straddle Sam, hands placed on either side of his face. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

In a quick moment, Sam flipped you, so that you were lying on the bed with him hovering over you. He dipped down to kiss the hollow of your neck, then whisper against your skin. “The pleasure is all mine.”

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

“You know, if you keep bouncing on the balls of your feet like that,” Meg said drowsily from the table, where she sat flipping through a magazine, “I’m going to side with Kevin on this. You’re hiding something.”

You put your lunch in the bag, wondering just how to tell her. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide your history from your roommate. There was just so much of it, you had no idea where to start. For now, you just settled for, “There’s this professor. I thought he was mad at me. Turns out he isn’t.”

“Wow. It doesn’t take much to get you all chirpy.”

Just the feeling of six years worth of hell coming to an end.

“Ready to go?” You asked and Meg jumped down from the high stool.

“Yep.”

“Is this the same good looking professor?” She asked out the blue as you reached the campus gates.

“How do you know about the good looking professor?” You narrowed your eyes. You had mentioned Sam only to one person in the apartment.

Meg looked taken aback for a second, then said nonchalantly. “Cas told me.”

“You two are really close, aren’t you?” Try as you may, you couldn’t keep the sly tone out of your voice completely.

Meg changed the topic smoothly, but not before you saw the faint blush on her cheeks.

Meg blushing? Speak of novelty.

She waved you a goodbye at the entrance of the law building, heading north to the Physics department. Wondering if anyone else in the apartment had noticed, you entered the class for your first lecture.

Professor Mills was in a great mood today, and she encouraged a debate on whether Legal writing and its syntax should affect how seriously the core content of any litigation is treated. You firmly believed that poor syntax should in no way undermine the severity of any litigation, and made your points with citation. The opposite team consisting of Brad and everyone in Madison’s group tried to put up a strong fight, but you knew you had the moral high ground on that one. Maddy was smiling by the end of it, but the expression on the other’s faces ranged from disappointment to disgust.

Professor Mills mentioned you by your name at the end of the class, lauding you for your points. It was enough to give you the high of the day. You simply loved her.

As the college day neared its end, you were excited for Civil Procedures, excited to see Sam again. Maybe he wouldn’t ignore you now. Maybe he’d actually look at you and smile. Your eyes were eagerly glued to the door, waiting for him while everyone chattered in the background.

It wasn’t Sam who came in. Instead, the TA Paul announced that the lecture has been cancelled for today and tomorrow. Professor Winchester would take double lectures in the following week to cover it up.

“Well, dang it!” Meredith cursed. “After that horrible debate, I was looking forward to seeing that chiseled face.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s disappointed,” Lacey said slyly. “Y/N looks like someone kicked her puppy.”

You schooled your expressions immediately.

Madison rolled her eyes. “Everyone was looking forward to it. Maybe he has something important. Remember he ditched Thursday, Friday on our first week, too.”

“Maybe he’s just playing hooky with his girlfriend,” Rebecca shrugged. You had a maddening urge to slap her. It wasn’t fair to direct all your anger at her; you knew that. However, listening to her words, evaporated the high you had been feeling completely.

How naive of you to think that one small conversation could make everything okay. Maybe he went back home and changed his mind, had seen that the exchange was a lapse in his judgement. Your stomach dropped at that thought. Why did he have to show you a moment of softness, if he was just going to take it all away? It would have been better then, had he continued to ignore your existence. You had been making your peace with it. You didn’t think you had it in you to take one more hit after feeling hope, at last.

Morosely, you started picking up your things.

“Y/N. Don’t forget about the party, tomorrow.”

Madison was looking at you with wide eyes.

You opened your mouth to make up a reason. She cut you off-

“Look, I checked your schedule. You’re not working this weekend. This is your last working day for the week. I’ve made all the reservations and counted you in.”

“Maddie-”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you? The drinks are on me.”

Looking at her, you just couldn't say no.

“I was gonna say that I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Yay!” She shot out of her chair and flung her arms around you. Surprised, you put your hand against her back.

“Told you she’d come,” Madison told her friends. Lacey gave you a smile, Meredith looked disinterested and Rebecca had her back turned to you completely. That summed it up accurately. For the umpteeth time you wondered how their group functioned at all.

Brad, who had been lingering at the table with his guy friends, gave you a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N finally gracing us with her presence?”

“Oh, butt out, Brad,” Madison shoved him. “If you keep acting like a dick, she might change her mind.”

“Now we wouldn’t want that, would we,” he said under his breath.

You didn’t want any more of their company than what was absolutely required, so you said your goodbye to Madison and left the lecture hall for the day. With your sulky attitude, returning to the apartment wasn’t an option in case you ran into someone. Those guys were very perceptive and you didn’t want to lie to them anymore.

After wandering aimlessly underneath the pergolas of the Quadrangle, you headed to the library. It was about two in the afternoon; four more hours and it would be your shift anyway.

You decided to have your lunch in the closed quarters of the librarian’s room. There wasn’t much to the room except a makeshift bed, a table, chair and a coffee machine. You could sit there and catch up with the essays after lunch.

The on shift librarian wasn’t Molly today, but this other odd hours guy. She was hovering over him, giving instructions. When she saw you, she ushered you to the side. “It’s his first time. I’m training him for the weekend.”

“Oh.” You looked over at the guy. He was clearly an anxious wreck. You felt bad for him.

“Hey listen,” you said, “Is it okay if I use the librarian’s room? I haven’t had lunch and I don’t want to go to the eateries or the mess.”

She gave you a guilty look. “The room is kinda sorta… ocupado.”

“What?”

“See for yourself.” She took hold of your hand and pulled you towards the room in question.

The door was almost closed, save for a small slit. Through it, you could see Sam sitting on the table, multiple books and files scattered around him. He was absolutely absorbed in whatever he was doing, forehead lined in concentration.

“What the-”

Molly shushed you. “Look, I know this looks weird, but he’s in the middle of something. They convicted one of his key clients, and he said he needed some place quiet to figure this out.”

“What about his firm?” You asked the obvious question.

“Client’s not from SF. He’s from LA. Heading to Acton Gris would be going in the opposite direction.”

“Then what about his office here?” You were so surprised that the questions just flowed out of your mouth.

Molly gave an exasperated sigh. “Students. They keep knocking on the door.” She gave you a desperate look. “Please Y/N, let him be. He’s really worked up about it.”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured her.

She looked grateful. “This isn’t conventional, but he’s one of the good folks around here. I knew him from the alumni fraternity before he started teaching here. In fact, he recommended me for my internship at the LA firm he was working in then.”

That explained why she called him by his first name. She was preaching to the choir about how good Sam was though.

“That’s all fine,” you said. “Just let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

“Molly?”

Both of you jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Molly?” He asked again. “Is that you?”

She pushed the door open.

“Yeah it’s me.” She looked at you. “And this is Y/N. You remember her from the other day, don’t you?”

He smiled at you. It was a tired smile, but it held the mischief of a secret only the two of you knew.

“I remember her,” he said dryly.

All the distress and world ending angst you had been feeling since the class vanished into thin air.

“I-I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said quickly. “I just came in to check if I could have lunch here. Clearly you are busy working, so I’m just going to go now.”

“You’re not disturbing,” he said firmly. “I’ll clear the table. You can have lunch here.”

“No- no,” you backed off. “Seriously. I can go to the mess.”

“Y/N.” He looked beyond exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in a while. Even his words were heavy. “C’mon, in. At least sit on the bed.”

Molly poked you in the back from behind and you stumbled inside.

The room was a mess. There were papers everywhere. Sam was one of the most organised people you knew. If there was that much mess around him, either he had changed drastically in the years or this was really a disaster situation.

“Tell me if I can help you with anything.” The words were out before you could even think them through.

He rubbed his hand across his face. “I can’t possibly ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”

You didn’t know if this fell in line with proper etiquette of how one should converse with a professor, but this was Sam, and he looked ready to drop. To hell with etiquette. You were going to do whatever you could to help.

Behind you, Molly had disappeared back into the library.

He paused, considering your words, then sighed. “Even if you wanted to, this is too much to explain.”

You flung your bag on the bed and rolled up the sleeves of your sweater. “I’ve worked as a paralegal for an asshole boss. I think I can keep up.”

Sam gave you a look that was halfway between impressed and surprised.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath, so softly that you almost missed it. “Alright, here’s the details of the case-”

You listened attentively as he quickly briefed you about this teenage boy, James Feller, who had been arrested for grand auto theft about four years back. The boy testified against the gang, cut a deal with the DA and walked. Now he had been arrested again, and after being let out, jumped the bail. Sam had until tomorrow to fix it or this kid was spending a long, long time in jail. Sam was sure that James hadn’t done it. He had some grabs from CCTV footage to prove his alibi. It only needed to be put together. He might be completely innocent when it came to the theft, but there was still the bail issue to take care of.

“Right, I’ll go through the log to see if there’s anything similar where an underage defendant jumped bail and got out of prison under the jurisdiction of LA,” you said.

“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” he said, astonished again.

You shrugged and pulled out your laptop, signing into the library’s archival server with your password. There were a couple of cases that could be cited in context to Sam’s case. You pulled out the soft copies of the litigations and highlighted the relevant extracts.

“You guys need anything?” Molly was standing at the door. She had her bag on her shoulder. You looked at the clock. It was already six, time for your shift to begin. Where had the time gone?

“We’re good,” Sam said.

“Seriously? You guys don’t need anything? Not even coffee?” She came to stand by the coffee machine. “I’m making a cup for myself anyway.”

You gave in. “I’d like a cup. Thanks, Molly.”

“One for me, too,” Sam caved, too.

“You guys look intense working like that,” she said, filling the pot with water. “Are you making any headway?”

“Y/N found some useful citations.” Sam closed the heavy book before him and leaned back in his chair, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt. The coat had been hung over the back of his chair since long before. You tried not to look at him too much.

“Good on you, Y/N!” Molly said, pulling on three mugs. “How do you have your coffee?”

“Little milk and one spoon sugar,” you said politely.

“Sam?”

There was no response. You looked to see that he was busy with his phone, having not heard a single word of it.

“Let it be,” you suggested, seeing as Molly was shuffling the strap of her bag. “You go on. I’ll manage the coffee.”

“You’re a lovely person!” She noted with just a hint of surprise, then blew you a kiss. “See you later, Chica bonita.”

You poured coffee for him, black with half spoon of sugar, stirred it and carefully handed it to him. He took it gratefully, holding out two fingers as he talked over the phone.

You grabbed your mug and went back to your laptop. It appeared that Sam was talking to a colleague explaining the things he needed to get ready. He took a sip of the coffee and stopped mid sentence, looking at you over his screen in wonderment.

“Chase, I’ll call you back in a minute.”

You had gathered your stuff in one hand.

“Y/N?” Sam interrupted you, voice oddly tender. “You remembered.”

He was holding his mug out. The warm vapours were slightly fogging his glasses.

“Of course I remember.”

There was no way you would forget.

He saw your things wrapped in your hand and the bag slung over your shoulder.

“You’re leaving?” Disappointment clear in his tone.

You shook your head. “I’m just going outside at the desk. It’s my shift now. I’ll continue tagging relevant extracts and have three sets of printouts ready for you. You’ll let me know if you need more time? I can keep the library running all night.”

“You’re the power wielding person here, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” you grinned. “I’ll leave you it.”

Once outside, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Being around Sam made you conscious of every little thing… enough to drive you crazy. Maybe it was a good thing that you were going to the party tomorrow. You needed a drink. That thought inadvertently reminded you of Jo- the only sister you’d ever had. If she were here, she would have told you to go for it despite knowing how insane drunk Y/N was and wreck you would be the next day. The memory of her also made you sad, the missing was gut wrenching sometimes. You almost turned on your heel and headed by inside to ask Sam about Jo and about Dean. Were they still together? Did the diner ever get out of the bumpy patch? How was aunt El doing?

Did they hate you for leaving like that?

That thought brought you up short. You didn’t want to know the answer to that question. There was a small hope within you. If Sam of all people could find it in himself to be civil with you, maybe they would, too. Broaching the topic now would be disastrous. It wouldn’t help Sam right now to lose concentration. Hell, he might do a 180 and suddenly remember that he didn’t like you.

You got back to your desk, filing the cards out for the day before getting to Sam’s paperwork. Though it was a manual job, you did it with utmost concentration, knowing how chaotic courtrooms got and how crucial it was to find the right evidence at the right time. Alongside, you carefully read the suit and arranged the stacks according to the order in which they were needed.

“You know, if you kept going at it like that, you’ll have to represent the boy tomorrow.”

You looked up and your breath hitched. Sam stood before you, his shirt partially untucked and sleeves rolled all the way up till his elbows. The tie was gone and the top button of his shirt was undone. There was a glint of silver against his neck, a thin chain. You wondered where it had come from absently. Without the glasses, and his hair slightly dishevelled, you could see some of the guy you had first fallen in love with.

You looked away quickly, blinking several times, then pushed the stack of printouts towards him. All three copies, arranged as per the appearances of the evidence in the suit papers. The affidavits are all the bottom, along with the supplementary copies.

“You should come down to the office and train my assistant,” he said, leaning over the table so that his elbow rested on top. “He can’t find one paper on time.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

“Aren’t you having dinner?” He asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. He was nervous.

“I’m not hungry.” Your stomach was already so full of butterflies, you didn’t think any food could go in.

“I’m already feeling terrible that you’re helping me with this… please don’t skip dinner for it.” There was something about his voice that affected your soul. The sound of his words were different from everyone elses. All words felt kinder, lovelier when he said them.

“Why are you fighting for this kid?” The words slipped past you before you could stop them. You had been wondering this all evening. “I saw the papers. You’re doing this pro bono and not for Acton Gris. This is your own case.”

He didn’t reply immediately and his face had a far away look. When he finally spoke, it was in a reminiscing tone. “I met James when he was a foster kid a few years ago. He got pushed into the racket because of bad influence. When I saw him at the retention centre, he broke down completely. They were blackmailing him by threatening to hurt his little sister. When he first got off, he looked at me like I was some kind of miracle.” Sam’s face had an awed look, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could think that of him.

“I knew he wouldn’t get into this again. He’s in college now and has basically turned his life around. We have enough evidence to pin a gang member down for framing him. I don’t want anyone at Acton Gris to help me on this because this is my own case. Putting some poor junior on it is just abusing my power.”

He was a good man. That in itself didn’t surprise you because you had always known it. What surprised you was that he had remained one. Sam used to be starry eyed with ambitions and full of a thirst to do the right thing. He had been so idealistic. It worried you that one day he would wake up and see that the world was an even worse place than what he thought it to be. You worried that the ruthless profession might kill some of the inherent goodness in him. After having lost just as much as you, he hadn’t lost faith in the world. He had remained good.

“What?” He questioned and you realised you were staring.

“There you are!”

Jody Mills stood behind Sam, a harried expression on her face. He straightened up immediately and it occurred to you how close your faces had been.

“I went to your house, called up your PA, and here you are.”

“Jody?” He clearly hadn’t expected her.

She handed him the bag she was carrying. “I have dinner for you. I knew you would bury yourself in the case and wouldn’t cook since you’re by yourself now.”

Now. What did that mean? Lacey’s remark about Sam living in family quarters and having a girlfriend came to your mind. You dismissed it quickly.

“Didn’t see you there, Y/N,” Professor Mills came around. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Actually I just started a week ago.”

Her eyes flitted to the stack in front of you. “And what’s this?”

“Y/N’s been helping me with some printing,” Sam said.

Professor Mills gave him a once over. “Sam Winchester making students work?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended quickly. “I offered to help S- Mr. Winchester. I have some experience as a paralegal and this was only a matter of making copies.”

“You did a lot more than that,” Sam corrected smoothly.

“I was only joking.” she placed a hand on Sam’s arm and you noted that they were probably closer than just colleagues. Friends even. “You, on the other hand, keep surprising me, Y/N. This looks like solid work.”

You blushed at the compliment, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sam gazed down at you oddly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have misinterpreted it as a hint of pride.

“You have your food!” Jody ordered him and waved at you. “See you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Good night,” you wished her.

Before leaving, she glanced from you to Sam and back again, a peculiar look in her eyes, shook her head and left.

She had packed a burger and pack of oily fries for Sam. You saw his brow furrow at the sight of it and smiled to yourself. Some things never changed.

Sam insisted that you have your dinner, too. However, you made sure that while he sat inside, you had your dinner at your desk. There was only so much of his nearness you could take without having your feelings run wild. Sam needed to go through the case files in peace for the court tomorrow. You let him be, only visiting the librarian’s room once to let him know that you wouldn’t shut the library at all. He was grateful for it. After everyone else had left, you wrapped the shawl around your shoulders and put your head down against the wooden desk. Closing your tired eyes just for a second, you let yourself reflect on everything that had happened today and how one day could be more impactful than a month of one's life sometimes.

You woke up several hours later. Grey light was starting to filter from the high windows. It was early dawn.

Hurriedly you got up to check on Sam, but the librarian’s room was closed from the outside, you checked in the seating area, too. There was no one there; you were by yourself in the room.

Back to your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper placed under your paperweight.

It said-

Y/N,

I have to start from here now to make it to LA in time for the hearing. Didn’t have the heart to wake you up. I can’t thank you enough for your invaluable help.

Regards,

Sam.

You clutched the paper tightly in your fingers, crumpling it in the process. Sometimes a few words were louder than a speech. Sometimes the gesture was even louder.

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

A/N 2: You guys! THEY TALKED! I know a lot of you have been like ‘They just need to talk’ and well, it happened. So what do you think? Uphill?

ALL MY LOVE to everyone who commented and reblogged. You guys keep me posting! <3

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wendibird · 4 years

Text

SPN 15X17 Observations

Well, watching this week went pretty smoothly (and I was actually able to get my little bluetooth keyboard thing to talk to my tablet so I was able to watch on my big TV screen and type up notes fairly easily. :)

And just to clarify, sometimes my notes as I took them were VERY brief, and in some cases I’ve gone back and added in a few details or explanations to make clear what I meant by what at the time.

I’ve also come to the conclusion that I don’t always remember to take notes, especially if Important Things are happening. (Do people even like the notes section? Or would you just prefer reading my odd takes on everything after the fact?)��

Anyway, here’s what I have for 15X17 “Unity”. Well, I do have more thoughts drifting around, but I’m always concerned that I’m going on too long as it is. *LOL* (Under the cut for length and spoiler aversion)

Okay, going in I’ve heard rumors that this is a “Sam Heavy” episode, so we’ll see. *fingers crossed*

- wow, is Chuck starting in on this world already?

- Silent treatment.

- I wonder if she’s guessed.

- fuck you Dean!

(but I’m not surprised. it just confirms what I’d already suspected about how Dean really feels about Jack.)

Commercial Thoughts:

Yeah, so, I’m firmly in Sam and Cas’ camp here. Jack may not be family to Dean, but he is to them. He’s their Son.

I also think that though he hasn’t talked about it, Sam regrets his part in the Drama Coffin plan involving Jack last season. Think it’s one of those cases where he realized too late he was on the wrong side, and he doesn’t want to be there again.

As for Dean… I get that he wants to see the people he cares most about make it out of this. (Sam and Cas.) And I get he’s doing the tunnel vision thing. I think he knows that Sam’s right but he won’t let himself admit it.

- Wow….. The fanangels are kinda creepy.

- They’ve lost all their nuance with Chuck. Or my theory is right and Chuck has actually shifted darkside.

- Oh wow…. Amara is really going to bat here.

Commercial Thoughts:

Still not sure how much she’s (Amara) really guessed. She’s acting as though the whole “trapping him” idea is still a go, but what she’d said to Dean, as pointedly as she did, it seemed like maybe she suspected what was really going on and was still trying to give him the option to go a different way.

And even if this is Chuck having shifted dark, it could still be written with more nuance than this crappy villain schtick.

I mean, even in S11 when he’s all but given up on humanity and existence and was going to let Amara win, it was written with there being a depth to him about it.

- Don’t know if Dean’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care as deeply to make this easier or what.

- HOw is ADAM still alive?! And she’s an angel?

- Interesting behavior for an angel. *LOL*

- “Then he moved on to our sons.” Hints of Cain and Abel?

- Okay, so the angel kept him alive. (Sure, I can buy that.)

- Pretty Crystals!

- He’s (Dean) heard those lines before. And Dean’s feeling uneasy about it.

- Amethyst! (Sorry, always had a thing for Amethyst and it’s my birthstone)

- (oh, okay, all of them)

- Ewww….. Open heart surgery

- Rib!

- Dean doesn’t like being rail-roaded.

- Talk time.

- I don’t like this…… (Jack using the rib and starting the suicide-bomb process.)

Commercial Thoughts:

Okay, so, what Dean said, I’m glad he said it. And I have been getting hints of that feeling from him the whole season, about feeling disconnected because of what they found out about Chuck and their lives. I just… I still think he’s willfully blinding himself to what’s really going on. That even this version of “Free Will” is a script that he’s following. (Well, I think he’s starting to have misgivings about that.)

- Uh-oh! Ideas!

- I love two researching nerds!

- Were we supposed to understand the Latin? *LOL* I caught “Mortem” in there a few times.

- Yey door!

- “your internal compass is functioning perfectly”

- I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

- Who dat?

- Dead someone or other

- W section.

- Reapers maybe?

- Who’s thinning the ranks?

- Empty!Meg!

- Sam is good! (At bluffing the hell out of an ancient cosmic being.)

- IT’S A LITTLE LATE TO STOP IT!!!!

Commercial Thoughts:

*FREAKING OUT!!!*

Jack already started it! OG!Adam said that once started the reaction couldn’t be stopped.

Okay, deeper thoughts. Everyone’s playing chess. Still. The game is just bigger.

OG!Adam wants God dead because of stuff that happened. And Billy is following his plan? (Did I get that right?) The plan will make Billy the next God. (Not surprised there honestly.) Her world will be a lot more “orderly” no doubt.

The Empty just wants to sleep. (Honestly, can relate.)

But everyone’s just using them all as gamepieces again. Dean’s getting that feel from things OG!Adam and Whatserfaceangel said. Sam knows now too. They’re still stuck in someone else’s story. They’re still not gaining true “Free Will”. I’m hoping that the route they take will actually get them off this train track.

- DUDE - WHAT (was in reference to Dean pulling a gun on Sam)

- Go Sam! He’s not letting this one go. (Referring to my feelings on Sam feeling bad about Jack and the Drama Coffin thing from way before, and him NOT settling for Dean’s plan this time, him sticking to his guns and saying what he feels and taking action.)

- Chuck played her (Amara) too.

- Not again! (Oh Jack, will this forever be your fate?)

- FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!

Holy shit! That episode!

Okay, it actually did a good job of wrapping up a lot of ideas. Like, big-picture ideas that have been themes throughout the run of the show.

Also, apparently this was the only world where Cas and the Winchesters broke the mold? Didn’t play by their roles?

Also, minor point but it made me happy: Chuck pointed out how it’s Sam who needed to find things out. Sam who kept digging. I made mention of it last episode how Billy kept going to Dean, because he was easier for her to manipulate. But Sam asks more questions. I think part of it is what Cas said about his internal compass. I think another part is his experiences. He’s been the brunt of the cosmic plot-lines a LOT of the time. So he does keep asking questions because of all the times he hadn’t and things went badly. (Like end of S4 with killing Lilith.)

And let me be clear, it’s not that I think Dean is dumb. He isn’t. And he and Sam both make decisions a lot based on their feelings. (Sometimes it’s all you have to go on.) But he’s shown a tendency in the past several years especially to be more likely to make them based on anger. And he doesn’t get called on it often. And I don’t know if this is TOO meta (is that even a thing with this show anymore? *LMAO*) but I feel like part of that is written into the script. Of their world. Even when Dean’s wrong he’s often proven “right” by the narrative. He very rarely is made to face up to his mistakes. (Not saying he never is. But it definitely doesn’t seem to happen as often.) And I’m wondering, is that because up till now, he was Chuck’s favorite? We saw that Chuck can manipulate a LOT of things. And events, and even some people.

How often have we noticed and commented on how the Narrative backs Dean up so much of the time, even when he might be in the wrong? Or even just questionable? Or morally grey? How much of that is possibly now supposed to be due to Chuck’s meddling? Because I’ve also seen it mentioned (and have also noticed) that although Sam winds up the “wrong one” a lot via the narrative, he’s actually HAD to learn and grow because of that. But because Dean is rarely shown as wrong, he hasn’t had to, and his character has stagnated a lot in the last several seasons. Of course, in reality, that’s due to the writing/show-running/powers-that-be making those decisions, but in-show could it possibly be something to do with Chuck? Maybe at first because he liked Dean more? But as time grew on, and he kept trying to set up his Cain and Abel plot with them, maybe it was to reinforce Dean’s self-image that he’s Right?

And also by contrast, we had the end of last season where so many of Sam’s decisions which had been made with best intentions and best information/resources at the time wound up blowing-up in his face. As if to say "Ha-HAH! That's what you get for thinking you could lead people! That's what you get for thinking you could save Jack! That's what you get for thinking someone like Nick could be redeemed! That's what you get for talking your brother out of the Drama-Coffin plan!" It felt like it was specifically intended to make him severely doubt his own judgement. And it worked. After all that shit went down, one thing after another, culminating with their mother's death, he didn't trust himself. He didn't believe in himself. So he put all his trust in Dean. And Dean was full of RAGE. (I don't blame him. His Mom has been a keystone of his life, even when she wasn't there.) But Sam didn't give the objections he normally would have to Dean's plan to box-up Jack. Even though it was CLEAR how much he didn't like it. How wrong it felt to him.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is, I think Chuck has been nudging and manipulating a LOT of things in order to get the Winchesters to behave how he wants them to.

IDK. My head is hurting from some of these meta thoughts. *LOL*

SO! Back to what happened in the actual episode.

I thought the format was interesting, focusing in on the different POV characters for their spans of the story until it all came together. (Wondering if this is going to continue into the next episode…)

I liked that we got a lot of reveals about what is (possibly) really going on, in regards to the grand schemas. Because there are several at play here. But now we're at least getting glimpses of them.

Even though we didn't see Billy, I thought the reveal about her plans were interesting, but definitely fit with her character as established so far. I know a lot of people are saying she's gotten drunk with her power or she's "turning evil" but I don't think that's the case. It's true that she hasn't told them everything about her plans, but that's because she's also using them as pieces in her game. But her goal is the same as it's always been since we first met her. She has ALWAYS been about the Natural Order. She never liked how the Winchesters (or anyone else) flaunted death again and again. So once she's in charge? Everyone and everything goes where they belong. The demons stay in hell, the angels stay in heaven, souls go where they're meant to, people from other universes go back (even if there's no universe to go back TO. Tough shit, they'd be dead anyway according to her) and those who have already died and been resurrected? They go back to wherever they should be. (At least, I THINK that was the implication made, with Sam asking Dean if he'd be willing to trade HIM to take-out Chuck. Sam was definitely realizing a LOT when Empty!Meg told him what Billy's plan was.)

This isn't her turning Evil like has been done with Chuck. It's more, her becoming a more extreme version of what she already was. When she got her promotion, she found out a LOT more things. Including this option of events for taking Chuck out and putting things back to how they belong. And it even started with Dean's aborted Drama Coffin plan. Which eventually fails, because Sam, but it then leads to Jack sacrificing his soul to take out AU Michael, which eventually leads to Mary's Death and Chuck's opportunity to manipulate things more and so on and so forth until we wind up here.

(Also, just wanna say, absolutely LOVED Rachel as the Empty again!)

And also, having just watched that scene again, can I just say again how awesome Sam is? He straight-up told the Empty that even if he WAS lying, their best bet is to let him go with the book. And it couldn't really argue with that because he was right! (Well, if it had killed him then and there, Dean probably wouldn't have known right away and probably would have been able to carry out the plan. So there is that. Buuuuut none of them knew that either at the time.)

And in general, I love how Sam just would NOT give up. This is the Sam Winchester I've come to love. He could feel in his bones that this plan was wrong so he was doing everything he could to not only stop it, but to find some other way to get what they truly wanted.

I also loved his and Cas' interactions. They were supportive of each other and both were trying to find a way to save their son. (Dean has officially forfeited his Dad-Card in my book. Hell, in his book too.) Also, I remember hearing someone from production, or who was maybe on set or something mentioning something about the Holy Grail in this episode? Well, in that scene where Sam and Cas are looking through those old crates and trunks and boxes, when Cas finds the key Sam is holding this really old looking chalice. Wonder if that's supposed to be what that is. *LOL* I mean, the Spear of Destiny (or at least, the head of the spear) was there in the Bunker, so why not I guess? *LOL*

We didn't get a lot of Sam and Jack interaction, but I liked what little we had. Sam made it clear to Jack that he wants to save him. (I'm really hoping we get SOMETHING more of them in the next episode or two but... yeah. Not a lot of time left.)

I could go on for some length about my feelings on Dean and how he's been this season. But I don't want this to turn into a fully anti-Dean rant. I will say though that I'd definitely gotten the impression before this that Dean has different categories of people he cares about, and in his mind, he also has them ranked according to how expendable they are. And I'm not just talking about Jack here, though he is a major part of it. But at the end of the episode when he and Sam are having it out, Dean says he's basically willing to sacrifice EVERYONE to get what he wants.

(I don't think he's actually willing to sacrifice Sam for it though. And yes, I know, he was waving a gun in Sam's face. But I don't believe for a moment he had any intention of killing his brother. Not when Sam asking point blanc if Dean is willing to trade him for killing Chuck, and that seems to be what causes Dean to start listening to what Sam's saying. Also, in the past, Dean hasn't been above threatening people to get what he wants. Like with Kaia. Also in S8's "Trail and Error" when he and Sam were talking about taking out the hellhound, Dean pretty much said if Sam even tries to get close to it, Dean would shoot him in the leg. Now, we never got to see if he actually would have or not, but regardless, it was a case of Dean being willing to hurt Sam a little in order to protect him from something he saw as a bigger threat. In that case it had been taking on the trials. In this case, it would have been to win their shot at freedom. At least in Dean's mind. Not saying I approve! Just, I think that's where his mindset was.)

And this is a far cry from the Dean who, just a few years ago was willing to be a kamikaze bomb in order to save the world. And yes, Dean has mentioned "Saving the world" this season too. And I'm sure he means that too. But when he was at his most emotional, what he was talking about wasn't saving the world and everyone in it. It was freeing him and Sam from being Chuck's entertainment. And he's willing to sacrifice nearly anyone to accomplish that. At least, he was up til now. I hope that they're going to give him a change of heart before the end because I really REALLY would like the show to end with me not despising Dean and what he's become. Yes, I'm a Sam-girl, but I do care about Dean too.

Also, I feel bad for Amara and what wound up happening with her. Like many other characters, she fell victim to Chuck's manipulations, and now I'm guessing he's even stronger than before. But also, Chuck wasn't the only one manipulating her. And maybe if they, (Dean especially, since she had a soft-spot for him) had actually been trying to find another way earlier, she wouldn't have fallen to despair when finding out the truth.

Aaaaaanyway, I think I've rambled enough about this episode as it is. Thank you to whoever actually bothers to read all of this. *LOL*

#spn 15x17 spoilers #spn season 15 spoilers #episode review #my thoughts #tangents: i tend to live in them #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #the darkness/amara #god/chuck #i think your internal compass is functioning perfectly #sam is jack's dad #castiel is jack's dad

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msdowartyheps · 4 years

Note

PROMPT: AU where Christine is a lawyer and Erik is her client :')

Thank you so much for the prompt, @helloitskrisha! I hope you like it <3

“That would be one count of second-degree murder, several counts of threat through handwritten notes and continued extortion. Did I miss anything?”

“No, you got everything right, as usual.”

“Any cues on his motivation?”

Mrs. Giry hesitated. A very frustrated Christine rubbed her eyes with her right hand and sighed.

“I need something to work with, Mrs. Giry. I know this man is important to you, but my hands are tied. I can’t propose a deal to the DA if I have nothing to offer.”

“I know, my dear, trust me, but… This is complicated.”

Christine snorted.

“‘Complicated doesn’t even begin to describe it, but I’ll try my best. So let me ask again. Any cues on his motivation?”

“I think you should see it for yourself.”

—

“Why them? You claim to be a master of arts, what’s stopping you? You could have started your own company, hired whoever you wanted, gotten a better theater even…”, she tried to keep her voice amiable. This man was a charade.

“You make it sound as if such things are simple.”

“But they are!”

“Counselor, things are never simple for a man like me.”

“I was told you are rich.”

“How does that change anything?”

“People may not like other people, but they never, ever, argue with money.” Erik opened his mouth. “Unless you’re extorting them, of course”, she quipped before he could say anything.

Erik huffed. His lawyer’s face softened.

“Erik, I’m only trying to understand your reasons. I want to help you, but I need to know you.”

“Where did she find you, by the way? Mrs. Giry?”

“Her daughter is my best friend.”

Erik cackled. Whether or not he would spend a lifetime in prison depended on the abilities of little Meg’s friend? He was doomed.

The girl in front of him, however, didn’t seem to share his humor.

“Is there a problem?”

He sobered immediately.

“No, of course not. It’s just that… You’re awfully young.”

“And that makes me unreliable? Incapable?”

“No, that’s not-”, Christine cut him off.

“If you would prefer, Mr. Erik, I have no problem in telling Mrs. Giry that you were unwilling to cooperate, and therefore jeopardized my work, which will ultimately lead you to a lifetime in jail. I don’t have a habit of giving up on cases, but most people work along their attorneys, not against them, whether they like it or not. Unlike you, they seem to be aware it’s for their own good.”

Erik remained silent for several minutes. Giving up, Christine sighed inwardly, grabbed her briefcase and got up from the chair.

“There was a scam”, she finally heard Erik’s voice.

—

Christine couldn’t believe her luck. Or bad luck, she hadn’t decided which one yet. If she hadn’t heard the story from Erik himself, looking into his eyes as he told it, she would have thought he had caught the idea from a movie or a book.

As it turns out, Erik had been one of the creators of one of the city’s theaters. He had designed the entire building, not only the exterior but each and every one of the rooms, from the box seats to the orchestra pit, from the dressing rooms to the ticket booths, and worked with his then partner in building it.

However, his so-called partner was actually an agent from a wealthy corporation which claimed to own the building after it was finished. Having fled Persia as somewhat a refugee, and also due to his mask, which Christine presumed hid some sort of deformity, Erik had no documents at the time to even prove he existed as a person. He never got a single dime for his designing and engineering.

Ironically, said theater now housed the most famous, longest-running and probably most lucrative Broadway show, which had been on for decades nonstop. Erik, who seemed to be a sucker for drama, as theatre people usually are, then proceeded to invade the theater and wreak some harmless havoc as payback, using secret passages no one knew about.

He had a solid alibi for the murder charge and the original blueprints of the building were still in his possession, filled with information only the original designer would know. The copies the corporation owned were simpler, luckily. The extortion was still an issue, but well, the money was his anyway, and if they managed to prove he was actually the victim, and not a villain, the corporation would have it far worse.

—

Eventually, of course, the case hit the news, despite Christine’s efforts to keep it low-profile, but it ended up being beneficial for Erik. When the story about how a widely known entertainment corporation took advantage of a disfigured refugee and his work came out, the support Erik received was massive. People did love a plot twist.

The District Attorney accepted his alibi without question. Later on, they found out that Joseph Bouquet’s death had first been ruled out as an accident, but, with Erik trapped and caught, the corporation decided to pin it on him, despite the fact that the “Theater Ghost” never hurt anyone else.

When all that dirt was uncovered, the show company, orchestra and crew included, summoned up a strike and even threatened to resign if Erik wasn’t paid his due, and organized a special concert to raise funds in favor of his cause. The initiative was immediately supported by fans and theatergoers, and the tickets sold out within minutes, prompting the opening of a second, third and fourth performances, not to mention the smaller fundraisings that popped up all over the internet. As he was already a wealthy man, Erik planned on donating at least part of the money to nonprofit organizations that helped refugees. No one else should have to go through what he did.

—

Today, they would know if their efforts had paid off. Christine’s hands shook slightly as she arranged her chocolate brown curls in an elegant bun. Her and Erik would be there early; because it was their final day at court, he wanted to thank people. Whenever they had an appointment at the courthouse hundreds of people would camp outside of it, carrying banners and signs with supportive phrases, cheering him on as he walked by. He smiled awkwardly and waved at them, even shaking a few hands once, but that was about it.

Thankfully, Erik’s address was still a mystery, as well as her office’s, though many people were closer to his home than they dared to imagine. He was a very discreet person, as much as his mask allowed him to be, therefore no one ever noticed him disappearing behind a door in one of the side walls of the theater he claimed to own.

—

“Ladies and gentlemen at the court. This case is a very peculiar one; accusations were turned over to the people who first filed them and the defendant claimed to be the actual victim.”

Erik could barely breathe. It was now or never. Sure, Christine had told him they could appeal in case the verdict was not favorable, but it wouldn’t be the same. The assholes would always have that advantage of the first win. He trusted his lawyer, though. She had done everything within her power to help him. She had earned his trust. Erik glanced at her.

Christine was beautiful. Despite her hair being tied up, a few strands framed her delicate face. Her expression was neutral, but her brown eyes were peaceful; he knew she was confident about the verdict.

The judge rambled on about the treatment of refugees and the deplorable situations they were often submitted to by dishonest people, but Erik was marveling at Christine’s slightly rosy cheeks and the fact that she didn’t have a single freckle. However, remembering how important this was, he sobered up and turned his attention to the judge.

“...After analyzing the facts and evidences presented in this court, I find that the accusations are legitimate. Mr. Erik shall be named the official theater owner back to its opening date until this day. The corporation remains obliged to pay him royalties and monthly rent for the years the theater was illegally occupied.”

The audience celebrated and clapped. Erik turned to thank Christine and give her a handshake, but she nearly jumped into his arms, enveloping him in a tight hug. He quickly gathered himself and hugged her back, but Christine let go before long, looking sheepish.

“I’m sorry”, she said, blushing. “I know you’re not… I shouldn’t have. I’m very happy, that’s all. I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”

Erik merely hugged her again.

Justice had been served. It was a good day.

#helloitskrisha #prompt #phantom of the opera #poto #phanfic #phanfiction #phandom writers #phantom #erik #christine daaé #fanfic #fanfiction #my phanfic

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