#can we not decide before the damn episodes have even aired that everything is horrible

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One Year Anniversary: Top 12 Ducktales Episodes!

Happy anniversary all you happy people! Yes it was one year ago today I started reviewing animation and it’s been a ride to be sure. I’d always WANTED to be a reviewer: I love going on and on about stuff I love, really digging into it and picking it apart... but I could never get started. I tried youtube but I didn’t have the money for the equipment nor a proper shooting space to record, so my efforts.. were not great. And while I TRIED text reviews, my own looming pile of self hatred meant every attempt I made was shot down when it got hard as me not being good enough. 

But one year ago I finally got past that. I’d already been reviewing a bit, doing invididual issues of comics... but got way in over my head trying to do the current line of X-Men comics as it came out, and wisely bowed out of that. But that left a gap: I had nothing to cover week to week and with a demanding new job, I drifted into just doing in charcter chats, little fan fictions script styles. Not bad work, I should do some more at some point and I even got a comissoin once in a while, but nothing I could really live on and not what I wanted to do with my life. 

Enter Ducktales. I’d always WANTED to review the show.. and when the double premire happened, I decided fuck it, and put up my thoughts. And then decided.. hey maybe I can do this every week.. and slowly.. my work evolved, getting better and better, getting more and more likes. I picked up Amphibia when that came by week to week.

And eventually.. this went from a hobby, if one I was passionate about to a career. Not a largely paying one, as only one person was really intrested in paying me for it, friend of the blog and our fincial backer @weirdkev27, but .. it’s money and i’m now making about 30 dollars a month due to a comination of comissions and patreon. Other contributers are always welcome mind you, my patreon is here if your curious and comissions are 5 dollars an episode, but i’ts just nice to have money coming in. To have gone from simply WANTING to review things and make a living off it.. to simply doing it. 

And it’s been one hell of a year.. and not just because 2020 felt like hell or 2021 began with a full on insurrection. I feel like i’ve acomplished a lot in the year i’ve been doing this: I finished what I started with Ducktales season 3, getting better and better as I went. And I didn’t stop there with ducks: I started covering what brought me to Ducks in the first place, the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, and while that retrospective has slid a bit on the schedule, I intend to get it back on track this month. I reviewed a bunch of Darkwing Duck episodes leading up to the Just Us Justice Ducks.. chronologically anyway. The actual airing order reads like someone took 50 issues of a comic, made it rain with them, then just started reading whatever ones they picked up randomly. I also covered some of Duck Master Carl Barks work with the classics Night on Bear Mountain, A Christmas for Shacktown and Back to the Klondike, with more to come. 

And the Duck didn’t stop at just reviews I did on my own: Kev comissioned two MASSIVE retrospectives from me: My first for him was Ride of the Three Caballleros where in just a few short months I covered the boys entire televisied careers together from the movie, to house of mouse, to mickey and the roadster racers, to ducktales (again) and finishing with the wonderful Legend of the Three Caballeros. It has probably the worst Daisy imaginable, but otherwise is really excellent and i’m glad I finally watched it. I also covered Don Rosa’s two stories with the boys as part of it. It was a fun ride and I enjoyed every minute of it... okay most of them again Three Cabs Daisy is the worst. And once that finished Kev started up another idea: Shadow Into Light: a look at Lena’s character arc from start to finish that has gone on to be my most popular series on this blog, and that finishes next week. And there’s more to come as after that there’s a short breather with a look at Lilo and Stitch’s crossover episodes.. folllowed by me looking at all three of season 2′s ducktales arcs. And I fully intend to have covered every episode of the series by this time next year, so stay tuned. 

Outside of ducks though I didn’t slow down. I restarted my Tom Lucitor retrospective, covering what i feel to be one of Star Vs’ two best characters, tied with eclipsa, and my personal faviorite as he redeemeed himself, found love and I bitched a lot about the horrible directions the series took and probabably will more as that’s still not done yet. I did what I always wanted to do and started looks at some of my faviorite comics ever, starting with Life and Times and adding in New X-Men and Scott PIlgrim. I also threw in the awesome comic Blacksad. I did pride month for the first time and not only came out publicly, but also did two whole arcs i’m proud of with The Saluna episodes of Loud house and the rednid episodes of OK KO, and generally just had myself a good old fashioned time as an out bi man reviewing childrens cartoons. 

I started Season 2 of amphibia with it’s lows of an endlesss road trip and highs of adding Marcy to the cast and giving us more of the silky voiced keith david. And finally Patreon wise Kev’s taken me on a hell o fa journey: In addition to the restrospectives i’ve covered some additional darkwing duck, and a simpsons homage to the duck comics... but also got a bit weird and obscure with detours like the lost animnaics sucessor Histeria, the apocalyptic comedy where Santa dosen’t know how doors work Whoops! and the adventures of Santa’s bratty teen daughter jingle belle. In short.. it’s been a long year but damn has it been fun and there’s more to come. I’d like to thank all of you for reading, thank my Patreons Kev and Emma for supporting me, and thank my family for doing the same.  So with that out of the way, I figured the best way to celebrate was to do something i’ve been wanting to do for a long time, something honoring the show that gave me this calling in the first place. And with Season 3 sadly being the last, and enough weeks having passed for me to digest it between the finale and today, I could think of nothing better than my top 12 episodes of Ducktales.

Ducktales is one of the best cartoons of the 2010′s. Brilliantly taking EVERYTHING that had come before, the comics, the original cartoon and every bit of duck media period to craft a masterful, unique and wonderful reboot. It was funny, it was insane, and it had damn good character arcs. By the end every member of the main cast along with major supporting cast members like Fenton, Drake and especially Lena, had changed and signifigantly at that. The show was everything I could’ve dreamed of and more and I miss it terribly, hoping DIsney will do a revivial movie at some point. For now though, Frank and Matt’s run on ducktales, as they called it and I do too since i’m a massive comic book nerd, it’s time to look back on my favorite tales of ducks. So grab your sharks, your number one dimes and your friendship cakes with clear gay undertones and join me under the cut as I celebrate one of my faviorite shows and my anniversary in the best way possible. 

12. House of the Lucky Gander! 

 So as i’ve gone on about before and no doubt will again, Donald kinda got the short end of the stick in season 1. While Frank and Matt had good story intentions, keeping Donald away from adventure since he had no interest in it, in practice it meant a beloved Disney Icon who they and disney HEAVILY promoted as part of the series and whose being here this go round was a big draw for fans of the comics.... was only in a quarter of the season and only got TWO plots centered around him in 23 episodes, with only one being the main plot of the episode. The PIlot and Finale both centered around the family more as a whole if your curious how I counted those so while he got plenty of focus in both, it’s still not a day in the limelight sort of thing. 

But unusually for Donald, he lucked out as his one big starring role for Season 1 was both one of my faviorites and one of Season 1′s most inventive outings.  A lot of the episodes enegy comes from a one two punch of a great guest star and one of the series best settings. The guest star is of course everyone’s faviorite overly lucky himbo Gladstone Gander. The show adapted the prick perfectly: The original Gladstone from the comics.. was the worst asshole imaginable, utterly insufferable. And for a villian, and Donald’s rival, that’s all well and good.. but his super luck meant he RARELY , if ever, suffered any consequences for being just...

The 87 series simply made him nicer, while Going Quackers simply removed his luck. No adaptation really got how to make this fucker work.. until this one. Here Frank split the diffrence: Gladstone is still smug.. but he’s no longer actively malicious. While he is an insensitive prick to Donald in this one, unlike the comics he’s not constantly bragging about his luck or how great he is or actively BAITING Donald to fight with him or trying to ruin his relationship or a million other reasons he sucks and I hate him.

This version by contrast... is generous. He’s not the most empathetic, because he doesn’t get how life works, but he does share the riches of the casnio with everyone and in a cameo appearance in “Treasure of the Found Lamp” gladly offers his nephews some diamonds. He’s got a nice surface level charm to him that makes you understand why people like him.. but it’s also clear ther’es nothing UNDER that of value, making you equally understand why Scrooge and Donald hate him. Gladstone in this reboot is a perfect example of why we need reboots or new adaptations in the first place: Because sometimes the original got something wrong or something can be done much better by the new writers. 

He’s perfectly paired with the setting: The House of Lucky Fortune, a mystical casino with an East Asian astatic based in the country of Macaw and provides two great plots. Donald’s really highlights his character: His understandable jealousy at gladstone earning the boys love through nothing while he struggles to make a living for them, and how he feels like a looser and like Gladstone is simply showing that off instead of just not knowing what empathy is. Having Louie be the one to bond with Gladstone was also just pitch pefefct, as is showing some depth for the boy by having himr ealize his hero is an asshole and be the one to help donald in the end. 

The other plot is just pure joy though and is where the setting REALLY shines: Scrooge and the rest of the kids try to leave.. but can’t find the exit. This is where the creative part comes in: The Casino simply morphs to keep people trapped, and caters to them, giving them whatever they want to keep them trapped. In the cases of the kids it’s all hilarious and adorably in character: Huey becomes entranced by a fancy water show, in one of his best bits of the season, Dewey gets a pet tiger who sadly did not come home with him and Webby gets to live the dream we’ve all had of stuffing her face directly in a choclate fountain. Scrooge’s escape is likewise clever: He simply prepares to get a room.. then books it as the check in desk is ALWAYS near the front. 

We then find out Gladston’es trapped get the whole mystical contest with absolutely gorgeous animation, i’ll talk about it in full some time but this episode is just a treat to watch, has a great arc for donald and had some memorable gags. I can’t help but smile when I watch it. 

11. The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee!  As I mentioned before i’m a superhero nerd so naturally Fenton was one of my faviorite parts of the show. Frank and Matt were just damn good at crafting superhero stories, and like gladstone improved fenton turning him from an awkward donald stand in to an awkward peter parker-esque science nerd who just wants to be a good person and the best hero he can be. He got into science not just because he thinks it’s neat, but because he honestly wants to help people and you can’t help but foot for him whenever he pops up. Lin Manuel Miranda is a large reason for that, bringing his incomparable a-game to the character. While we sadly didn’t get a ton of gizmoduck focused episodes, the fatct we got AS MANY as we did and that Lin didn’t drop out for a minute even with his busy schedule was a miracle and I’m acknowledging that. 

As for why this one, I feel it builds brilliantly on the previous Fentoncentric episode Who Is Gizmoduck?! which just BARELY didn’t make this list and uses the fact we haven’t seen fenton in a while as both a plot point and to move some things forward without having to spend screentime they clearly didn’t have. By having Fenton be just burnt out on superheroics it finds a way to both explain where he’s been, he’s been busy with his new job, and give us an interesting angle to the old “superhero is tired of the life” thing. He never once complains about saving people or stuff... it’s just like any job it gets tiring after a while. As someone who has his dream job but has struggled with it from time to time, I vastly relate. 

Though while I love my boy and Lin is game as always, the episodes real MVP is my other boy Huey. The episode has moved Huey up from being simply Fenton’s fanboy to being his best friend, and adorable as hell relationship. The two clearly respect and appricate each other and Huey is looking out for his buddy the whole episode. His love of love is also just really cute. Added in the mix is Webby, who in one of my faviorite gags of the series, finds out Fenton is  Gizmoduck because Huey is incredibly and insanely blatant with his unecessary coverup. But she of course is game to help while Fenton is trying to play it casual. We also just get a waterfall of great gags as everyone overdoes it wingmanning for fenton: Huey sets up an itallian bistro and tries to purposfully create a lady and the tramp situation, and sings opera (With Manny on acordian), the wonderfully 80′s suit from Fenton’s dad his mom gives him to wear, and Launchpad, who gives us a tremendous list of his exes, and plays my favorite song of the series: It’s a Date, a micheal mcdonnel riff. 

This episode also wisely ups Mark’s Beaks game as Fenton’s arch enemy, still keeping him hilaroius, with the guy acting like a bored teenager and guzzling so much nanite jucie he turns into a hulk, as well as said hulk mode leading to a ton of great gags from kidnapping the children (”I got your kids.. are they your kids? I don’t know how this family works), to ��take that coach dad” to eating a pie with tins and all and wondering about said tins. But he’s an actual threat now, taking on fenton in one hell of a fight, and having an utterly transcendent scene where he hacks his way past gyro’s security while dancing.. and dabbing because of course he does. It’s a fun, well done character piece that’s mostly here for i’ts laugh but Fenton’s struggle with Gizmo overtaking his life, and finding out someone he truly hit it off iwth only wanted him for that.. it’s really good stuff and Lin’s delivery after Fenton finds out, the pure pain and betryal in his voice, is just excellent. Also that opera scene is poetry. 

10. Quack Pack!

One of the episodes that started my career naturally landed here. Not for that reason though: Quack Pack is a fun riff on sitcoms, specifically the tgif ones of the 90′s that Disney Afternoon Kids no doubt also watched, the kinds Disney Channel still makes today, and most importanly the kind the Disney Afternoon itself made like Goof Troop and well... Quack Pack. 

Riffs on sitcoms are nothing new and the last year has been FULL of them. 2020 gave us this episode, Beef House and the wonderful “The Perfect House” episode of Close Enough, and this year gave us WandaVision, my second favorite MCU project so far, right behind Black Panther, which used the sitcom deconstruction to create one hell of a character study. 

So you’d think with a year having passed and this concept happening as an entire mini series would dull this one.. but no. it’s still damn funny, having fun at the cliches while, again like WandaVision, having one of the main cast be responsible by accident but go along with it. The episode pivots from glorious affectionate parody of cheesy sitcoms, to that plus horrifying “Humans”, and a character piece for Donald. This brings Donald’s hatred and fed up ness with adventure to a head revealing his fondest wish is just to have a normal life and not loose anyone again. 

It takes one of his best friends to snap him out of it. Look Goofy is my second faviorite of the sensational seven, an episode with him was already an easy sell for me.. but the episode uses him really well. First for laughs as he’s gentically dispositioned to be a perfect sitcom neighbor.. but also for heart. With his family preoccupied and a bit hurt, i’ts Goofy who cuts to the heart of the issue, pointing out NO ONE is normal and even his normal domestic life raising Max, who we see go to prom with roxanne eeeeee, has all sorts of chaos. Normal is what you make of it and pining for some ideal that will never happen was just tearing donald apart piece by piece and by letting go of that.. he finally begins to grow as a person throughout the season. It’s also a great thematic tie in to the season’s overall plot with Bradford and what Makes donald, despite also disliking the chaos his family gets into, different. Donald accepted it and grew as a person.. Bradford clung to his hate and it ate him alive. Or turned him into a non-sapient kind of vulture. Before I close this part out Jaleel White is also excellent and I wish eh’d get back into voice acting. He’s so freaking good at it. Seriously man i’d love to see him and ben in a sonic property together as a mythology gag. Same with Jims cummings and carey. Just think about it whoever owns the sonic movies.. think about it. 

9. The Last Adventure!

Look I knew this was coming, you knew this was coming. But it had to be on here. The Last Adventure is not perfect: The lack of a build up episode like the previous two finales had really hurt this one: even at about 70 minutes, it still feels rushed in places and Huey, one of hte main characters of the season, dosen’t feel like he has a full payoff to his character like Dewey and Louie got. 

But despite those flaws.. this episode is just a damn good ending. Almost everyone gets a big moment paying off their character arc, everyone in the party that comes to rescue webby and huey, along with the two themselves, gets a moment to show off, and everything comes together to give us one last epic sendoff. There’s just moment stacked on moment stacked on moment from Launchpads heroic second wind and donning of the gizmoduck armor, to Webby’s tearful confrontation with Beakley, to Huey using the greatest adventure of all line to foil bradford in one of the most deligfhully nuts moments of the series, I could go on for days with just how triumphant this finale felt. While it left a lot of doors open.. that feels like part of the design. It’s the end of the fight with FOWL.. but our heroes will never stop adventuring, never stop going and never stop being in our hearts and the curtain call at the end is now my faviorite bit of end credits ever, perfectly giving the main cast and friends one last chance to take a bow in their own unique ways. I will always miss this show but I will never be disapointed by the note it went out on. 

8. The 87 Cent Solution!

Look some episodes are show stoppers, some are heartfelt tearjerkers, some are all this and more.. and some episodes are just clever and hilarious. The 87 Solution is the second funniest episode of Ducktales with me and my go to episode when watching the show. It’s just pure fun and with a clever premise: Scrooge notices 87 cents have gone missing, and already coming down with a cold, goes mad with paranoia as the kids slowly don face masks, something that has become even eeerier given everything, one by one realizing he needs to stop. 

While David Tennant is an EXCELLENT dramatic actor, his comedy timing is really something that shoudln’t be ignored and i’ts on full display here as his performance gets more and more deranged, to thep oint he thinks an 8th dimensional imp is repsonsible. He nicely balances the disturbing side of Scrooge’s paranoia, his distancing from his family, with plenty of great gags about it too, the standout being when he offers 2 million dollars to whoever took the money like he’s publicly appeasing kidnappers. It’s fucking brilliant. 

But while David is awesome as ever what really, truly makes the episode is my boy, one of my faviorite characters on the show if not my single faviriote FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD. Keith Ferguson is ALWAYS a dream as the character but this is his best performance by far. Part of this is the addition of Zan Owlson, Kev who I mentioned earlier’s faviorite Ducktales character. She’s not only throughly likeable in her own right, but provides the one thing Flinty was missing; a straight man.. or woman in this case. Scrooge wasn’t TERRIBLE in the roll, but can easily step away from his shit or foil it. Owlson has to put up with Glomgold’s nonsense while desperatly trying to stop him from undoing all her hard work with sheer force of jackass. The two jut play off each other brilliantly, Glomgold not getting sh’es not his employee but his equal and Owlson constnatly snarking at him. 

And of course both things hit their peak in the climax with the family staging a fake funeral (Though no one told donald it was fake), and we get the funniest scene in the entire fucking show as Glomgold burts in in a white suit, money shades and full dance number to “All I Do Is Win’, which when first watching this I was convinced the song was somehow accidnetly on in the background but nope. They got it after using it in the test phase and the scene is better for it. Glomgold twerking on Scrooge’s casket, trying to get on it to dance, and having to be placated like ac hild is the icing on this very rich cake

And the reveal scene is also gold as Glomgold gets into a YEARLONG staring contest with a baby, fails to steal more than the 87 cents and, in my faviorite touch, put on an imp costume just to make scrooge seem crazier... then keeps the damn thing on the rest of the time for no explicable reason. The episode is the show at it’s comedic peak while giving Glomgold a chance to be a genuine threat and that’s Glomgood. 

7. Let’s Get Dangerous!

Frank’s Rebooted Version of Darkwing Duck is probably his greatest achivment with the show. While this show is a team effort, something I slowly realized as I reviewed the show, it’s very clear from the way he talks, how well he knows the show and how much effort was put into porting Darkwing into the reboot that this was his baby. While redefining ducktales for the 2010′s was clearly a huge dream of his... doing the same for the master of suprise was an even bigger goal. And as a huge fan of superheroes i’ve seen my fair share of half assed takes on laired and complex characters. The XCU alone is one giant grab bag of missed opportunities for me. 

So i’ts no exageration when I tell you Frank.. nailed it. In one of the most brilliant moves i’ve seen for a superhero work Frank worked his love of the show into the reboot.. by having Darkwing have been a show, one Launchpad loved.. and so did Drake, who was inspried by the show to become an inspriation himself and while his attempt to do that through a zack snydery reboot failed, Launchpad encouraged him to do it for real. Drake was still himself, but the meta aspect and the toning down of some of darkwing’s more obnoxious traits that didn’t work in a universe that, while patently rediciulous still took it’s characters seriously, he made a BETTER version of the character.

This is where all that comes to it’s peak, and hoppefully convinced Disney to let Frank , and possibly matt, run the reboot. And no, even if Point Grey is producing that dosen’t stop that: Thanks to Invincible i’ve now realized that Seth and his friend Evan producing the show dosen’t mean it’ll be RAN by them, nor unrelated to this. It just means their helping make it and if anything given how lush and gorgeous invincible’s animation is, it’s a VERY good sign their helping out with it if it’s true. 

But wether this versoin continues or not, Frank gave it his best shot. Part of his diffrent angle is having Drake as a rookie here and as such here we see him truly struggle: he’s had his origin, he ahs the cape, he has the gadgets (in a brilliant turn thanks to fenton, who he actually likes... but is so far the ONLY person to not get he’s Gizmoduck), and the city.. but no crime to fight and no real idea how to go about his lifelong dream. The events of the episode slowly shape him: WHile he already had the spirit for darkwing, never giving up, looking good in a cape etc, this episode gives him the heart the same way it gave his original it: With Gosalyn. Dimantopolis and Beatriz just play off each other perfectly, as the two go from neimies to slowly bonding as Drake realizes this kid needs him and that he needs to fight for more than just filing the ohle inside, and goes to hell and back to help her get her grandpa back, with one of the best moments of the episode to me being when Launchpad helps her realize how hard he’s been working at it, an exausted drake refusing to acccept that he can’t get her grandpa back because he promised. He grows from simply trying to live the dream.. to surpassing the original. We also see more from Launchpad, who grows into his new family and helps push his boyfriend and newa dopted daughter in the right directions. The episode really evolves these characters from the simple disney afternoon versions, who while awesome were made into fully fleshed out characters. Gosalyn still has her edge but now has a hard lesson to learn about doing the right thing, forced to give up someone she loves for the greater good but finding a new family in the process. 

Part of what makes the episode work though as while it is funcitonally one big darkwing duck reboot pilot that’s awesome, heartrending and a joy to watch... it’s still a ducktales episode in parts without either part hurting each other. Huey plays a vital role, figuring the ramrod is too good to be true.. and discovering just how it is, then when captured, slowly unravling why Bradford’s there and being at least in part responsible for outing him as a FOWL agent. While this is largely Drakes story the rest of the cast is still vital to it: Scrooge trusting in huey, Louie serving as his logical counter and Dewey meanwhile bonding with team darkwing and helping Gosalyn, knowing exactly where she’s been and providing a nice foil. The episode is just one long and impressive love letter to the original show while creating it’s own thing and that’s really this reboot in a nutshell. It also has some of the best fights of the series, with the first fight between darkwing and bulba, where our hero, unlike his original counterpart, easily troucnes bulba using his speed and skill, is the standout. 

6. Woo-Ooo!

I covered this one recently so I won’t go on for too long.. but I will say I hold this one up as the gold standard for first episodes. In one hour, hell even in jus the first half we get a sense of the whole cast, the tone of the show, and the world we’ve been thrust into. It gets all the table setting out of the way by weaving it into a compelling story of Scrooge getting back in the game, finding a reason to get back to what he does best in those he loves most and setting up the season long arc effortlessly in the process. The worst I can say about the episode is it sets the bar a bit high for Season 1 and a lot of the first half really struggled to reach these heights. This episode is a masterwork and the perfect showcase for what the series would be at it’s height. 

5. Moonvasion!

Speaking of Golden Standards, Moonvasion is one of the best season finale’s i’ve seen. it’s not THE best.. but that’s a really high bar to clear and that spots currently taken in my heart by “The Crossroads of Destiny” from Avatar the Last Airbender. But while not the best of it’s kind, it’s sitll the best the series put out and is an utterly satisfying epic that ties up season 2. 

While I love the Last Adventure, it had a LOT to tie up and was really hampered by having to do all of that with no direct lead in. Moonvasion by contrast hits the ground running with the Moonlanders arriving on earth and all hell breaking loose, and the episode itself breaking into two stellar plots. Scrooge leading an army of every ally he has against the invaders, and Della seemingly going for reinforcements.. but really just trying to keep the kids safe from it, to their anger once they find out. 

Both sides end up going badly: Scrooge looses most of his army as Lunaris was one step ahead of him and is left iwth Beakly and Launchpad, while Della ends up marooned.. and finds Donald. The reunion between the two is the highlight of the special, as the two argue as you’d expect (And Dewey cutting in seemingly to stop it.. only to rant at Donald for costing him “ten years of turbo” is the best gag of the episode), before embracing. 

Our heroes naturally find ways to bounce back though. Louie, capping off his growth for the season, convinces his mom they can’t just hide.. and in the second best scene of the episode sings the lullabye she wrote.. one Donald sung them every night

And no sooner than Della gets her step back and realizes that dangerous or not she and her newly reunited family have to get back in there, do the cousins show up on Fethry’s giant shrimp/girlfriend Mitzi, and our heroes head back. 

Scrooge’s plot hits i’ts peak though as he’s forced to accept the help of an unlikely and unwelcome ally: Glomgold, who turns out to be exactly what they need: While his plan is as stupid, short sighted and insane as you’d expect, complete with forcing Scrooge to dress up as santa just to piss him off and dressing his sharks in parkas (”I call them sharkas”), the sheer lonacy throws Lunaris off as he dosen’t know how to deal with this and Glomgold not only gets the better of him but gets his company back as part of his scheme.  “You were prepared for our best but not our dumbest!” “And i’m the dumbest theirs ever been! Muahahahaha! Wait...”

And of course our other heroes arrive just in time to save things.. and the episode still manages to pull off what many works struggle to, something tha’ts very hard to: a SECOND climax. Lunaris decides to just say fuck it and blow up the earth and i’ts up to our core family to kick his ass in space. Epic space battles, Della’s girlfriend meeting the family and more insues and an emotoinal, action packed and fully satisfying finale is had by all... and it’s all topped with one of the best sequel hooks i’ve ever seen as FOWL makes themselves known to us.. and prepares to strike. 

4. How Santa Stole Christmas! This one will also be short as i’ve talked about this one.. a lottttt. The initial review, my best christmas specials list and my best of 2020 list. I stand by all of that: this is a unique and wonderful christmas special, i’ll be watching it every year, and i’ts full of charm, humor and gay subtext. In short it’s this series but on christmas footing. 

3. Last Crash of the Sunchaser! 

Another one I covered very recently, this episode is a master piece of suspense, slowly building tension as our heroes get closer and closer to the truth about Della.. and to death, the simple but deadly stakes making this an absolute nailbiter from start to finish. This is some of the series best pacing bar none... but what seals it is the ending: the masterful flashback finally explaning whatever happened to Della duck, our heroes lashing out at each other.. all cumilating in the best Scene of the show. I said it might be in the review but no I can confirm: Scrooge bitterly ruminating over things while we find out just how much he’s lost... ending with him tearfully and angrily sitting once again alone in one hell of a powerful shot echoing Scrooge’s first apperance. Damn fine stuff. 

2. Escape from The Impossbin Only one episode not only matches Last Crash in mounting tension and atmosphere but suprasses it. With FOWL and Bradford’s true nature now out in the wind, this episode uses that to create tension and rattles it’s two most unshakable characters: SCrooge’s normal boundless confidence is shot, not sure he can win this time against an opponent who knows him as well as he knows himself while Beakly slowly unravels, pitting Webby against the boys.. and pitting herself against Webby when Webby sees her terroizing them is only dividing them. Both plots start out funny enough but slowly escalate in tension and stakes until by the end your on the edge of your seat. The Beakly plot is the standout of the two, giving Bentina the starring role she badly needed, having gotten even better in light of the finale. Everyone is at the top of their game and everything builds up to one hell of a twist ending and one hell of a badass boast from our heroes: Their down.. but their far from out and this is far from over. 

1. Nightmare On Kimotor Hill!

I”ll be reviewing this episode in full later this week as part of my Lena retrospective, but I stand by putting it up top. This episode is ducktales in it’s purest form and focuses on it’s best original character as Lena grapples with her self hatred and her past. That core helps anchor an amazing concept: going into the Kid’s dreams and finding out their greatest desires. The results.. are all gloriously rediclous and are easily the best gags of hte series as a whole: Dewey’s high school musical santa claus is going ot high school nonsense from getting a’s in Dewology to running away from the abstract concept of a love intrest, to not getting the sybolism of himself crying a moon made of his own tears. Louie quite literally becoming garfield, and my faviorite scene of the show: Huey, wanting to be the tall older brother..g iving himself horrifcly long leg. While everyone else is just understandably baffled, what makes the scene is the banter between Dewey and Huey, with Schwartz and Pudi at their best as Dewey first freaks out and then asks what the hell man, while Huey defends his weird decision (”I”m not good at imagination stuff okay!”), and then tries to get a jar of pickles. Each dream is just so oddly and wonderfully specific to each kid and each one of the triplests dreams, as well as violets being color coded down tot he backgrounds is a very nice touch. The visuals here are just peak ducktales, using the setting for all it’s worth and the climax is utterly emotoinal and heartbreaking... and Lena’s break from her abuser, finally realizing she has the power now is not only a wonderful metaphor... but also just so damn cathartic. And that’s why this one’s the best to me personally: it just packs so much into 20 minutes: some of the series best and most creative jokes, a gripping emtoinal arc, and so much more. It’s just that damn good and tha’ts why it’s the best... that and starting Huelet for me. Seriously that LIbrary scene is so fucking cute. 

Thank you all for reading. If you liked this artcle, join my patreon and help me get to my stretch goal for monthly darkwing duck reviews, a review of super ducktales and more after! Until the next rainbow... it’s been a pleasure. 

#ducktales #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #webby vanderquack #scrooge mcduck #bentina beakly #lena sabrewing #santa claus #della duck #donald duck #gladstone gander #gizmoduck #fenton crackshell cabrera #gandra dee #mark beaks #flintheart glomgold #zan owlson #goofy goof #launchpad mcquack #darkwing duck

[backdraft-bimbo]

rule number two

After years of avoiding his trauma, Bucky finally confides in Sam. 

Words: 2893; Chapters: 1/1

James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson; Episode: s01e02 The Star-Spangled Man Coda

ao3 link

“Why don’t you get some shut eye, Buck? It’s gonna be a long ride home.” 

Bucky glances at Sam from his makeshift cargo perch across the fuselage. The bags under his eyes must be getting bad. Leah gave Bucky the impression last week that he needs concealer for his skin or something. But he’s a 106-year-old ex-assassin; who the hell is he trying to impress at this point?

After a few seconds pass, Bucky notes that he should probably respond instead of just staring blankly, because that’s what people do, right? They talk to each other, they share, and they trust so easily. It’s such a simple question, but Bucky’s urge to deflect any possible social interaction has decided to rear its ugly head tonight. Sam can’t be a fan of it either, since he’s the charismatic one of the two of them. He’s not the guy with the staring problem.

It’s just… Bucky doesn’t have normal conversations without being reminded of the restored freedom to speak his mind. The habits HYDRA drilled into his brain incite an unpleasant knee-jerk reaction– don’t speak or they’ll beat you –but Bucky has gotten better at managing the vestiges of his trauma. At least now he’ll be able to defend himself if his careless mouth puts him in hot water. And maybe he could just be honest with Sam; it wouldn’t hurt anything. But that almost kindles a burst of laughter in Bucky: the concept of himself not hurting somebody. What a world that would be.

Don’t get him wrong–Bucky used to like talking to people. He used to be good at it. But that was a long time ago; far longer than anyone should be able to recall. Even now, Bucky’s early 20th century days as a staff sergeant feel like a distant dream. He almost misses the wartime; when everything was simpler. Sure, it was bloody and violent and horrible, but at least Bucky knew how to fucking talk to people he considered friends. When it comes to his loose tongue nowadays, there’s an ugly history waiting to make an unwanted appearance; bared teeth and all.

“I don’t,” Bucky answers finally, his voice trembling a fraction more than he’s comfortable with. He doesn’t think he can do more than two syllables right now. If Bucky somehow musters up the courage to tell Sam about his nightmares, he won’t make it through a single sentence without bursting into tears like a twelve-year-old.

The fact that Sam could somehow see Bucky’s eye bags across the shadowy fuselage does not convince Bucky that Sam didn’t hear that slight embarrassing waver in his voice. But even if he did, the guy doesn’t comment on it. Sam has been laying in a supine position on the flight seats for the past hour, drifting in and out of sub-consciousness, and really, he’s the one who looks damn tired. It’s been a long day for both of them; they’re bruised and achy after their loss against the Flag-Smashers–more proof that Bucky shouldn’t bother Sam.

But this is here and now. The sky is starless as a humming inky black abyss, the RS-834 cruising about 40,000 feet above sea level, far beyond the stratus clouds, and everything feels tranquil in that seldom gentle way it does sometimes. It’s as if the world consists only of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, and that illusion is a tremendous comfort to the ex-assassin. When it’s clear that Bucky isn’t going to elaborate, Sam lets his neck muscles relax, drooping his head back to face the opposite wall that reflects the drowsy slur of his voice.

“C’mon, man...I know at least three percent of your body is metal, but that don’t mean you never sleep.”

Bucky pauses. Tries not to glance at his left arm. He has to be careful; guys like him have a tendency to overshare when it’s late. It’s just that something about the night brings a facade of protection, as if anything he says can be written off as a dream, so he can bare himself to the bone in front of anyone he wants. It doesn’t matter since it will be forgotten in the morning. The night is unreliable, thus Bucky uses that to his defense.

“Aren’t you worried I’m gonna like...”

“Kill me?” Sam snorts, a bit of energy returning to his voice. “I think if either of us really wanted to kill the other, one of us would be lying in a heap by now. Just saying.”

Bucky can’t argue with that. Like Dr. Raynor so elegantly puts it, it is so sad, but Sam is probably Bucky’s only real friend at this point. Add that with the fact that he doesn’t really want to kill anyone anyway, and someone who doesn’t know better might call what Sam and Bucky have a “healthy relationship.” Bucky swings a hand around Sam’s vicinity, willing his voice to level out this time.

“Are you tired? You should go to sleep.”

A deep sigh resonates out from Sam’s dark corner. “Man, I forget sometimes how good you are at that.”

“What?”

“Changing the subject.”

Oh.  

Bucky wonders which part of him that came from: James “Bucky” Barnes, or his HYDRA-conditioned brain. Perhaps it was just a defense against people trying to crowbar their way into his thoughts. As long as he can distract them, he’s safe. Bucky exhales a heavy breath, combing a hand through his greasy hair.

“Look, I just... I’m not the most pleasant person to sleep with.”

A moment of unwonted silence passes. Bucky’s gaze wanders away from his hands and toward Sam. By the time his eyes have adjusted, the guy has propped himself up on his elbows, teeth shining through the dimness in a quiet grin. The suggestive phrasing of Bucky’s words finally catches up to him. His cheeks redden. Well, if Sam decides to take it that way… Bucky technically hasn’t gotten laid since the 1940s. From what he remembers, it hadn’t even been very good. But hell no–that’s the kind of mental rabbit hole Bucky isn’t in the mood for. He coughs and slaps his thighs.

“We have like three more hours. Go to sleep, Sam. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Now you gon’ make me feel bad about it,” Sam smirks. “Shame on you, Barnes.”

Bucky ducks his head in exasperation. “You’re an idiot. What, you want me to sing you a lullaby?”

Sam visibly brightens at that. “Ooh, for real? You know any?”

Great , so now Sam is standing up, walking toward him, the grin on his annoying face widening. And because Bucky is a fucking mess, his tongue gets tied up in about fifteen knots before he gets the chance to open his mouth, and he’s already forgetting what he was going to say. Hell, if Sam smiled any brighter than that, he’d be the fucking sun.

“Uh, well, y’know,” Bucky says eloquently. “HYDRA was kinda lacking in that department.”

Sam laughs again, making himself at home on the red seats adjacent to Bucky’s perch, and Bucky feels a miserable sort of swell in his chest. Why is Sam purposefully gravitating toward him? Who the hell wants an ex-HYDRA assassin in close proximity?

“You gettin’ shy on me, Buck?” Sam tilts his head slightly downward, gazing up at Bucky with his big brown eyes and thick eyelashes, and what the fuck. “You ain’t gotta look so shook up; I don’t bite.”

“That’s a surprise,” Buck replies weakly, trying to force his face to cool down. There’s so much spit caught up in his throat right now, and Bucky knows it’ll look weird if he swallows in front of this guy, like he’s some nervous teenager with a school crush. Sam just laughs softly, the corners of his cheeks tightening, his lips curling up in a way that is too fucking charming to be on the face of a man sitting right across from a mass murderer. But honestly, Bucky can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed anymore; any time Sam laughs because of him is a win.

God, maybe I am good for something.

An overlay of silence reigns over the two men, and the white noise hum of the plane almost makes Bucky want to doze off. When he blinks himself awake for the fifth time, Sam’s familiar cadence cuts through the air like a knife to warm butter. He sounds wide awake.

“Nightmares, huh. So that’s why you don’t sleep.”

Bucky pales a shade, shifting atop his crate in discomfort. He supposes he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was being. Sam lifts his hands in a placating gesture, his voice much more benign now. “I used to get ‘em sometimes too. Hell, even nowadays I do; service will do that to you. Not tryna say I completely understand what’s going on in that big cyborg brain of yours, but…I get it, to a degree.”

Bucky wonders if Sam behaves like this whenever he’s talking to veterans in his therapy group, or if he’s reserved this for Bucky alone. He finds himself craving the latter to a degree that is both confusing and hopeless. “I…” he mutters, pointedly not looking at the other man. The miserable swell from before is morphing into something much more sad, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do with it.

You’re alone. You have no friends, no family.

The harsh words bounce around Bucky’s head like a game of Pong, contrasting starkly against Sam’s kind and gentle tone. A spark of indignation thaws the insides of his chest. It’s not fair, it’s not true; Bucky’s got proof right here. Fuck you, Dr. Raynor. Despite all you think, at least I’ve got this dumbass with me.

Sam speaks again, leaning back in his seat. “Look, you ain’t gotta tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m just lettin’ you know that you ain’t gotta fight this alone.”

Bucky hates tip-toeing around his trauma like it’s some massive landmine. Part of him just wants to lay it all out; explode with everything he’s never willingly told another soul; reopen his wounds and expel all the ugliness in the hopes that maybe he’ll heal up properly this time. He wants to scream to Sam that he never got a fucking break; it was abuse upon abuse. HYDRA buried him alive just to water his grave in guilt and horror and self-hatred. There had never been the option of peace for the Winter Soldier. He was the asset, the weapon, the tool, the plaything, taken out of a dusty closet any time somebody wanted a turn with him.

“It was never a fight,” Bucky whispers. “They never gave me a chance.”

Sam looks slightly taken aback, as if he wasn’t expecting the ex-assassin to actually respond. Bucky would be surprised too if he didn’t feel so utterly lost right now. Instead, he settles for staring past Sam’s shoulder into the back of the fuselage, trying to find answers in the dim blue lights blanketing them. Despite how hard Bucky tries not to see it, Sam is shifting, his face crumpling into...something. He can’t put his finger on it but hopes to God it’s not pity. Steve used to give him that look, always catching himself doing it, and then getting all guilty about it afterward. So before Bucky can stop himself there, let his words fester in comfortable ambiguity, he’s taking off and nothing is going to stop him.

“So yeah, Sam,” Bucky continues, gritting out the words, “I get nightmares. I remember every single human being I murdered with this stupid fucking metal arm, and now I have to deal with it for the rest of my ‘overextended life.’ Is that selfish? Is it selfish of me to say that I wish I died in that fucking ravine when I was supposed to? I don’t belong here, Sam. Just the fact that I’m alive in this era is unnatural. But I’ve gotta make amends with my laundry list of everyone I hurt, because dying just isn’t going to cut it. ”

Bucky still isn’t looking at Sam by the time he finishes, snapping his mouth shut like an animal being muzzled before he can bite anyone else. Even though Bucky can’t tell what Sam is thinking, can’t see how his expression has undoubtedly contorted from pity to hurt, Bucky is overwhelmed by instinct. He doesn't know which side is currently winning over: the Soldier’s desperation to submit before his handlers put him through “corrective treatment,” or Bucky’s longing to apologize to Sam for hurting him. Make amends, make amends, don’t hurt anyone. Rule number two.

The latter ends up taking the tug of war, and Bucky whispers out a choked, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sam, I–”

“Hey.”

Sam is standing close beside him, their shoulders almost level while Bucky is slouching. He can’t suppress the shiver that shoots through his body like lightning as a hand carefully grips his flesh arm. “Hey, man, look at me,” Sam says–somehow firm and gentle at the same time. His thumb brushes over the fabric of Bucky’s sweater, and Bucky wants to let his hand come up to clench Sam’s, but hell if he doesn’t know how that’ll end. It’s been so long since he’s been touched in a way that doesn’t end in bruises.

“Hey, hey… Listen to me, man. I hear you,” Sam says warmly, burnishing the chasm where Bucky thinks his heart used to be. “And it’s gonna be all right. You may not think it yet, and I should’ve said something earlier, but…” Sam trails off, pauses, then nods to himself. “You’re a good man, Bucky.”

A tight, burning ember of anguish flares up in Bucky’s throat.

A good man.

The Winter Soldier seldom got oral approval from his handlers, and even when he did, it was for chaos and carnage disguised as HYDRA’s regurgitated “gift to mankind” bullshit. To James “Bucky” Barnes, praise was a concept he never considered, since he’d have to be deserving in order to get any. Goodness is reserved for people , and Bucky crossed the line of humanity a long time ago. He isn’t a person anymore–just a monster.

People who fall under the category of “good” are the ones like Steve. Like his sister Becca. And like Sam Wilson specifically, standing here next to him with the true mantle of Captain America; a man so much damn worthier of that title than Bucky is, and he thinks Bucky is good . The same guy who has killed more innocent people than he has fingers and toes. And that’s not counting the unnameable ones–the collateral damage–caught in the crossfire.

Just the thought of all he’s done makes Bucky want to fervently deny Sam; to prove him wrong; to show Sam his track record with big red letters at the bottom of the page emphasizing that Bucky isn’t good . In the memories of hundreds, maybe thousands of people, he’s the cruel, terrifying mercenary with a history uglier than most want to comprehend. If Sam saw all that Bucky had done, would he change his mind? Would Sam look at Bucky the way he looks at himself in the mirror?

Sam is saying something now–maybe his name. But Bucky can’t hear him. He doesn’t know when the tears began, so he quickly ducks his chin so Sam can’t see them streaming down his face. God, it’s so fucking cold. Sam lets out a soft hum–not sad, but caring–and Bucky knows he’s failed at hiding again. Sam’s hand brushes up his arm and around his shoulder, pulling him gently against Sam’s warm body. Eventually Bucky leans into it, shutting his eyes tight.

“Been a while,” Bucky mutters, almost a whisper; it might just be a vivid thought.

“Yeah, I know, Tin Man. I mean it, you’re a great guy. And before you start, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m gonna keep reminding you till you do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sniffles, voice muffled as he buries his face into Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you, Sam.”  

The words, the touching–it’s all too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true, because if it’s real, then Bucky might just have a bit of hope left. And if he has hope, then he can’t jump into battle without care for his own life anymore. He’s going to have to exist correctly this time around. So if Sam means what he says, if he really thinks Bucky is a good person, then Bucky is going to live up to that image or die trying.  

Once they pull away, it’s felt like hours. The plane is still going steady through the early morning, the lights still that calming shade of blue, but something has shifted in the air, something neither Sam nor Bucky can seem to put their finger on. It’s a certain kind of rawness; an ache Bucky is thoroughly familiar with; a feeling that always comes with the moon and foolish amounts of trust. Bucky mumbles a flustered apology for the wet spot now stained into Sam’s sweater, but the guy just shakes his head and grins in a way that makes Bucky fall in love with him.

“Anytime.”

#sambucky #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fanfiction #angst #hurt comfort #winter soldier #ptsd #ao3

[xhanisai]

Blanc Noise - Chapter One

AO3 / FFN

Summary: 

It first began with the feeling of being watched and the flicker of shadows.

Then along came missing items being returned in the most odd places.

Soon it was the glimpses of blue eyes in the darkness and a silhouette of white that haunted her.

Marinette thought she saved him, that she saved her Chat Noir from the dystopian timeline.

She was wrong...oh so wrong...

A/N: Wassup mah d00ds! I hope you're all doing well and everything! Anyways, on tumblr, I made a quick AU of 'What if Chat Blanc comes back but as a ghost?' and it got lots of positive attention hence I decided to start a full fledged story. After all, I am a fucking slut for Mariblanc~ Big thanks to my good friend @/gale-of-the-nomads for the title name (sometimes, he has a good idea or two despite the amount of terrible puns he spews lol). Nevertheless, enjoy! P.S: The story takes place after the episode: Ladybug. Therefore, Maître Fu is still around, the love square is still going strong and Ladybug is not the guardian. Additionally, I've tweaked the timeline. The duo have now started their final year in collège in September (the events of Ladybug happened just before the summer holidays). Do I make myself clear? Good. Have fun! Song listened to whilst writing: White Silence - TK from Ling tosite sigure

~(x)~ . . . "MmmMhmm! That smells amazing! What have brought this time, My Lady?" The feline hero leapt to his feet, faux ears and tails wiggling with delight and pupils dilating with elation. Ladybug laughed softly at her endearing partner, sitting down on their favourite beam of the Eiffel Tower and beckoning the boy to come closer, wiggling the Tupperware in her hand teasingly. Chat Noir didn't hesitate to scurry towards her, plopping down on the spot opposite the heroine as she placed the container in his greedy hands. If he wasn't such a gentleman, he would have immediately tore off the lid and scarfed the delectable goodies down his throat like the alley cat his Lady proclaimed him to be. "Guess." Ladybug humoured him. "And before you ask, the clue is that it's a savoury dish this time. Don't shake it up too much." She playfully took it away from him and then placed it on the spot between them, grinning as Chat's face scrunched up into a thinking expression. Lips pursed, eyes narrowed and arms folded. Absolutely adorable. "Hm...it can't be steamed garlic prawns. You brought that yesterday." Noir mused. "And it doesn't smell like duck pancakes either." He added, scrutinising the mystery within the container. "You mean the Běijīng kǎoyā? Not after that horrible heartburn it gave you last week." Ladybug cheekily flicked his forehead, earning an annoyed grunt from him. "Geez no need to flex on the Chinese, Mlle. I don't know a lick of Mandarin." He tried to swat away Ladybug's hands when she attempted to poke him for making fun of her, chuckling at her mock angry face. "Okay okay! I'll behave- the heartburn was worth it by the way~ I started to crave for more days after, hahaha-" "I know SOME Mandarin, stupid!" "Insults and crude words do not count, My Lady." "Just guess the food in the Tupperware already or else I won't share!" Her threat froze the black cat comically. Chat quickly blabbered out apologies, clearing his throat and then eyed the container again. The sound of his stomach rumbling broke the silence, embarrassing the hero whilst his partner barely kept in her snickers. "Vermicelli rolls?" "Nope." "Kung-Pao chicken?" "Nah." "...wontons?" "You're getting closer," "Agh...okay from when I shook it, it sounded quite hard and crispy so..." He carefully shook the container once more, ears pressed against the cool surface as he tried his best to identify the treasures. Finally, an idea struck him, evident in the way his faux ears and tail shot upwards. "Aha! Spring rolls! It's spring rolls, isn't it?" His face looked like one who won the lottery and Ladybug couldn't help but coo internally. He was such a dork. "That's right, Chaton. Now, if you guess the correct fillings, I'll let you have some." Ladybug added nonchalantly, eating up the way Chat spluttered and the frazzled gestures he made, eyes begging to let him have the treats already. "Oh come on! You're not that cruel, Bug." He pouted but didn't attempt to snatch away the container. He directed his beady glare at his Lady, arms folded. "...La-aaaaady-bu-uuuuug..." He whined. "Just kidding~ Here, Bon appétit ," Ladybug didn't waste time, tearing off the lid and beckoning Chat to take some of the spring rolls. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of the delicious looking treats. The pastry was golden and crisp, the size of each roll were consistent and big enough to finish in three bites and the enticing, spicy scent made the feline salivate. And, they were still piping hot. Hell yeah, Bon appétit indeed! Without hesitation, Chat took a bite, unaware of Ladybug's anticipating look. . "Holy shit...I'm in heaven..." The teen blurted out, eyeing his spring roll with a tearful look, as if it was too beautiful for him to eat. He shoved the whole pastry in his mouth, moaning in delight without a shame whilst his Lady's tinkling giggles was like music to his ears. What a way to spend the last evening of summer before school. A beautiful summer night, a beautiful lady and amazing food! 'Yes, this cat is content for life,' He purred to himself, smiling at his partner as she offered him another roll. "Thank dieu you enjoyed it. I wasn't too sure if you were going to be keen on the secret ingredient I mixed in with the vegetables." Ladybug twirled her roll, cheeks ever so slightly flushed with happiness. "Is it that exotic spicy scent that I've been smelling this whole time?" "Yes. Maman's friend who's from the south-east gave her these homegrown naga-chillies. They're really, really hot on their own but without the seeds, they're bearable to me and make the vegetable filling taste so good." She bit into her roll as if to emphasise her point. She was blind to the way Chat Noir watched her with a pleasant, fulfilled smile. The warmth that pulsed in his stomach provoked his heart to skip a few beats or so- a standard reaction that the love of his life always gave him. 'I wish you would be mine forever...' His unsaid words were left floating in the back of his head as he nibbled on his food. The duo spent the rest of the night laughing, joking, exchanging bizarre stories without giving away their civilian lives and before they knew it, it was midnight. "Uh-oh...I'm turning into a pumpkin! Save me!" Chat Noir wailed dramatically, curling up into a ball and leaning against Ladybug. Her hearty laughter grew in volume, the girl clutching her stomach as she gasped for a breath only for Chat to join her with his contagious laugh. Soon, they calmed down. With the calm came the thoughts. The crescent of the moon shone like a beacon. The temperature of the summer air started to cool and the beautiful city lights below shone like diamonds. The two were hesitant to leave, wanting to prolong their last summer night. The older of two wanted to spend as much time as he wanted with the girl he loved. The younger on the other hand? She wanted to keep him happy and close. After all, She would rather die than fail her partner again and let him be akumatised. Little did she know how potent her sadness was. The atmosphere turned tense in a flip of a switch, sending shivers down Chat's spine and he was quick to glance at his now, forlorn looking Lady. As if they didn't just have a laughing fit and a mini picnic. It was that damn empty, distant looking face again. The boy under the mask absolutely despised it. He would do anything to get rid of it. "You know I'm always here for you, Bug." He placed his hands on her forearms, beckoning her to look at him. Ladybug refused to meet eye contact so he tilted her chin up with a finger, delivering a soft, sad grimace. "It's been months now and yet you wouldn't tell me what happened. Did you think acting more sweet around me would distract me from your tears?" The girl hadn't noticed her eyes were watering till her Chaton pointed it out and wiped away a stray tear. She knew he was much more smarter and perceptive than most would give him credit for yet she couldn't help but pray that he would leave her be. 'He's always been too good for you. You know it. I know it. So why don't you just hurry up and throw the earrings away so that someone else who's actually worthy of utilising the power can properly look after him?' "I told you, nothing happened. Just silly, civilian stuff." Ladybug tried to shrug him off, quickly wiping her eyes and trying her best to not sniffle. "Let's just go home-" "When will you stop lying to me?" The boy hissed out, tail lashing against the beams in anger and feline ears pressed against his dishevelled locks. His acidic green eyes pierced through Ladybug's being. A deadly scowl that would surely cause the blood in Le Papillon's body to freeze and petrify him. Ladybug tried her best to not show how he surprised her, keeping a poker face and swallowed quietly. However, with the way his hands were clasped around her wrists, she feared he could feel her rapid pulse. Why was it always her that caused his rare anger to rise on an occasion or two? It was simply not fair. How righteous his anger was towards her. A sudden gust of wind swept through their hair, ending the summer season and introduced the newly born autumn with a howl. It felt like ice seeping through their suits. Yet, the polka dotted heroine didn't dare move a muscle, observing her partner with a cool, neutral expression. Chat Noir hated it. He absolutely hated it. It was one of the few faces she made when she was forced to keep a secret away from him even if it took a toll on her body and mind. He felt disgustingly useless. "I'm fine, Chat Noir." Ladybug wiggled her hands to free them of his grip, bringing them to her chest as she glanced towards the city below. "Can we please not do this tonight? Please? I want it to end on a good note." Her wish was met with a defeated sigh from her partner, not flinching for even a split second when his tail whipped against a stray beam. An echo of his anger prior. Just as it was quick to come, it was quick to leave, thankfully. "I'm not give up on you," His resolute tone induced a quiet gasp from Ladybug, the girl herself cut her gaze towards him with parted lips. "But for tonight, I'll let you be." He didn't smile but...he didn't frown either. Reaching for her hands one last time, Chat Noir brought them to his lips. His bold, fiery greens never left her soft, steady blues whilst his lips brushed against her knuckles in a traditional kiss. Taking advantage of her lack of hesitation, he kissed the backs of her hands too and then brought them to his chest so that she could feel his fierce, beating heart. It began to lash against his chest when a light rouge tinted her cheeks. "I'm always here for you, always. No matter what, you can count on me to protect you." Then, with a determined nod, he launched forward and pecked her head before letting go of her swiftly and vaulting away with an impeccable speed. Ladybug remained frozen in her position, cheeks flaming until his figure became smaller and smaller in the distance. By the time she could no longer see him, she sunk to her knees, grasping her chest as her throbbing heart felt like it was going to burst out and explode. Millions of emotions ran through her body, fighting against each other as the memory of him kissing her head replayed over and over again. Like the sweetest of poison. Addicting but deadly. Despite the warm, fluttering butterflies, despite the smooth, softness of his lips, despite the comforting, protective touch of his, Ladybug couldn't help but have the memories of the other timeline flare in her mind like a warning sign. An unwanted threat that has never failed to wreck her mind. Biting her lips, she tried to keep her tears at bay, body shaking and pushing against the sobs that threatened to spill out. She was so tempted to run back to him and tell him everything. To care for him like the way he deserves. To love him like the way he needs. Yet the haunting, crazed ice blue eyes of the past invaded the temporary soaring feelings like a virus, eating away all the positivism and hope she tried her upmost best to maintain. 'You have no right to be happy...' An ugly gloom hooded her eyes, killing all her emotions as she staggered back up to her feet, using a beam nearby for support. The harsh wind clawed through her hair, ridding her trademark ponytails of their ribbons and blowing them away to the other side of Paris. Ladybug simply didn't have the energy to get them back, using muscle memory to swing herself back home. Her ribbons long forgotten. It was a cold, bleak September now. ~(x)~ It was quiet. Too quiet. Standing up from her crouch after detransforming on her balcony, Marinette immediately spun around and glared at her surroundings whilst Tikki hovered close. Not a single sound was heard. Not even the wind. Suddenly, Marinette's heart began to pick up pace as beads of sweat started to form on her forehead. The only thing she could hear was her heartbeat as she felt something weird. Her entire neighbourhood was asleep, evident in the lights out and the pitch black environment. The only source of light in her vision were the few lamp posts on the streets as well as around the park. Yet, she couldn't ignore the feeling of being watched. Not wanting to show fear at a possible stalker, Marinette took large strides till she was at the edge of her balcony, clutching the railings and scanned the scene with more scrutiny. One of the lamp posts merely flickered as moths buzzed around it. The trees simply swayed along with the inaudible breeze. The streets and roads remained empty. Not a single soul out. Marinette exhaled softly, eyes never stopping its study of her surroundings. She took a step back, tension leaving her body bit by bit, leaving an aching throb in her chest. The adrenaline that fuelled her veins vaporised. "I don't think there's anyone around, Marinette." Tikki whispered, clutching the girl's loose strands as she also watched for anything suspicious. "Can we go back inside? I'm cold." "...okay." Marinette glared at the scene from her peripheral vision once more, almost swearing that she saw movement under one of the lamps only to brush it off as paranoia and made her way back to the trapdoor. Since she wasn't paying attention, the teen bumped into her table, almost tripping over her feet but thankfully caught herself. "Eek! Are you okay?" The little Goddess freaked out, flying in front of her charge and scanning her from head to toe for any injuries. She was waved off with a tired smile. "Don't worry, it's probably just a little...bruise...?" A slither of red caught Marinette's attention from the corner of her eye only for her to gawk. There, on the railing of her balcony was... ...One of her ribbons. Inhaling sharply and leaping towards the railings, clutching her treasured ribbon, Marinette spied around the neighbourhood desperately like a hawk. Tikki's presence on her shoulders did nothing to alleviate her stress as sweat from palpitation grew on her palms. Her mouth on the other hand ran dry and she refused to blink. She didn't dare to tremble. She was Ladybug. Nothing should scare her. ...with her partner's possible akumatisation aside that is. Regardless, Marinette fixated her stare at the specific lamp post. The area where she brushed off momentarily. The light flickered back and forth whilst moths carried on fluttering around it without a care in the world. She watched. And watched. And watched. . Still nothing. Without looking away, knuckles white from her grip on the ribbon and her free hand cradling her beloved kwami, Marinette walked backwards, gingerly going down her trapdoor and quickly closed it till it was locked shut. . The silence haunted her all night. ~(x)~ "Ma-ri-nette!!!" Instantly, said girl was glomped by her best friend in a hug that would surely asphyxiate a commoner. Thankfully, Marinette was not only Ladybug in disguise but also trained vigorously in many of the martial arts by her dear maman. "Alya! I missed you! How was Morocco with Nino and his family?" Marinette leaned against Alya as the taller of the teens hooked their elbows together, leading them inside the school. "Girllllll I have so many scoops to share, so many deets-" "The million texts and selfies you sent me daily weren't just it?" "They barely scratched the surface! But anyways, it was amazing! I couldn't believe my parents were willing to let me go even when Nora threw a fit haha! I got to relax so much, spent quality time with Nino and his extended family, took so many pictures and tried so many different food. Ah~ Best. Summer. Ever." "Oh the food...I can't believe you shamelessly ate all of that without sharing it with me," The raven-haired girl teased, pushing her hip against Alya's who pushed back without a beat. "You wouldn't be moping if you came along, Mari. Remember the tagine you tried at the local restaurant nearby and you thought that was divine? Lemme tell you, it is nothing compared to the authentic, fresh tagine made by Nino's tante. One taste and I was in heaven. Absolute heaven." "Alya you're making me jealous, I get it, I get it." Marinette playfully scoffed but then her energy soon wore off and fatigue took over her body. Alya was quick to catch the tired girl as soon as she began to sway, perfect brows sculpted in worry as she eyed her best friend. "Marinette...girl...you do not look okay. I'm telling you this 'cos I love you. Go back home and sleep." The brunette brushed Marinette's fringe gently, noting the tired, dark rings under her eyes and the unhealthy paleness of her skin. It was as if Marinette avoided the sun all her life. "I don't wanna..." The stubborn girl whined but didn't fight back when Alya led her to a nearby bench, sitting them both down. "I've been missing you all too much and couldn't wait to see you all again," She admitted, earning a coo from the curvy girl and another hug. Alya's sun-kissed honey skin was a stark contrast against Marinette's pale, porcelain skin. "Alright then but I'll be keeping an eye on you, girl. I can see the effort you put into your cute bun and soft make up. How you do your eyeliner freehand without a guide will always baffle me~" Just as Marinette was about to retort back, the duo were engulfed by a surprise hug from the back. Neither fought back as the familiar laughter and soft, masculine brown arms were registered. "Babe! And dudette! My best girls!" Nino popped his head forward, in between the girls and squished their cheeks against his. "Heyyyy~" He waggled his eyebrows stupidly, his shit eating grin widening when his girlfriend burst out laughing and Marinette following with a quiet giggle. "Nino, g'morning," Alya quickly pecked his lips. To further his dramatics, Nino pretended to swoon and flopped backwards between the girls with a dopey smile. "Finally, a good lundi morning," Nino sighed with exaggeration, his girl still trying her best to stifle her laughter whilst Marinette fondly rolled her eyes at him. "I can now brave through these useless lessons and deal with M. D'Argencourt's bullshit rambles during registration. Oh how amazing the power of lo-oooove truly is!" "Oh yeah, I almost forgot that we won't have Mme. Bustier this year. Was about to say that I was gonna miss her but not gonna lie, she lost all my respect when you got expelled." Alya huffed, pulling Marinette against her like a worried mother hen. "To think that I almost had to spend my last year here without my precious Marinette~" "But Babe! What about me?" "You wish you were as precious as sweetcheeks over here." Alya blew a raspberry at her boyfriend, cheeky grin widening at his dramatics. Marinette on the other hand simply smiled, savouring every moment. The fact that there was a possibility that she would have had to attend a different collège for her final year without her friends made her quiver and she didn't falter in snuggling closer to her best friend. She's been through so much this year. Surely she deserved some sort of happiness. Even if she failed her partner at one point... Right? 'No. You do not deserve anything but pain and suffering you selfish, self-righteous brat. Because of you, how long did your beloved partner go through that hell? How many nights did he spend wide awake after destroying the world? Face it, you don't deserve him or your friends or any sort of love-' The dark, twisted, ugly thoughts and whispers that preyed upon her mind was quick to diminish at the sound of pure sunshine. "You guys! Hey!" Marinette didn't get a chance to look up fully as she and the rest of the small group was tackled by their loving blonde friend in a comfy, sweet hug. Her heart malfunctioned on the spot as all she could smell was the fresh, crisp autumn air that lingered in his soft hair and coat. Her mind rebooted over and over again at the feel of his strong, sturdy arm wrapped around her. Her lips quaked at the feel of his brushing against her cheek despite the gleeful smile he wore. "A-A-Adrien?" The model pulled back slightly to face the stammering girl, lips quirking into a silly but sweet smile. Not thinking twice, he pressed his forehead against Marinette's tenderly, their fringes intermingling with each other and their cool breaths hitting each other's lips. Adrien's eyes sparkled like emeralds and the aspiring designer couldn't help but be mesmerised. "Missed me~?" His nose was touching hers now and his pearly whites gleamed mischievously. Poor Marinette couldn't help but blink, blush already blooming in her cheeks. Dammit. They may have gotten much, much closer yet there were still times that the boy rendered her speechless! What's with the green eyed blonde boys in her life and making her heart a complete wreck?! "B-Bro...can't breathe...I don't wanna die!" Nino's muffled pleas shattered the moment and Adrien immediately broke the hug, snickering at the way Nino gasped for air and clutched a deadpanned Alya. Though, he took a seat besides Marinette and kept an arm around her waist, leaning against her as they watched the couple bicker and banter. "Enjoyed your holidays, Adrien?" Marinette began, playing with the fraying threads of her purse and peeked at him below her lashes. Adrien hummed, sitting up and then directed his gorgeous greens at her. 'Be still, my heart.' Marinette couldn't help but beg. "It was alright. Didn't leave Paris though and had too many photo-shoots. What about you? Didn't you get to go to Shanghai for a week?" Adrien's question almost went unheard as Mari couldn't help but be hyper-aware of the warmth of his hand on her waist. The way his finger casually tapped against it. The innocent smile he had on his lips. This boy was going to be the death of her. 'But you don't deserve him. You don't deserve either of them. Be lucky that they even acknowledge your filthy existence.' The eerie whispers clawed through her brain, her body begging to run away and cry. Yet, she forced her fingers to move away from her purse and pull on the seams of her navy pea-coat, smile never faltering. "Yes, I did. I really enjoyed it there. I wish I got to stay for lo-longer..." She trailed off, swallowing down any babbles or word soup as Adrien squeezed her waist as a gesture of comfort. He was being really sweet today... "I don't blame ya- all the pictures you posted online looked so cool. The skyline at night, the food, heck even your relatives! If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought that cousin of yours was your brother." "You wouldn't be the first to mistaken us as siblings," She giggled. "When we were younger and they came over to Paris to visit, some people used get mixed up between me and him. It didn't help that I had my hair really short at the time and wore nothing but blue and red." "That would have been really cute to see. Hmm, it also makes sense with how easily you accepted that Félix and I were just cousins instead of that weird conspiracy theory that Kim concocted up." "Oh I wouldn't say I accepted it too easily. You and your cousin are like mirrors of each other. It's insane! I thought for a minute that you had an evil twin." Marinette winked merrily, her giggles simply grew while Adrien rolled his eyes at her. "Come on. Not you too." His fake pout didn't last long and he quietly chortled alongside her. Just a smile from his Princesse was enough to brighten up his day despite the small fight he had with Ladybug eight hours prior. Yes, Ladybug was the love of his life. Yes, he would go to the moon and back for her. However, he would be an absolute idiot and horrifically obtuse to deny that his feelings for Marinette weren't as strong. With rare wisdom from his lazy kwami, Adrien learned that having feelings for more than one person was not only natural but also healthy in a way. It showed that he wasn't forever stuck on one person and it eased the pain of his Lady's rejection to his advances. Ladybug and Marinette were his best friends first and foremost and he wouldn't dare to sabotage his precious friendships. It didn't mean he couldn't wish for Ladybug to fall for him one day. Same for Marinette. He's still a silly teen; he could keep dreaming and fantasising! Till then, he was going to go with the flow and see what the future entailed. As far as he was concerned, his future was leaning more towards Marinette and frankly, he did not mind one bit. Abruptly, the morning bell rang, indicating that it was time for the students to head to class for registration. Grunts and groans were heard from the swarm of students in the courtyard, Kim's distinct "It's time for hell, bitches!" being one of the more prominent voices in the crowd along with Alix's curses. "Thank fuck Mari-bee was the class president last year and made sure that we got our class to be the same for this year. I'd have eaten my own hands if I had to deal with that one annoying kid obsessed with magic again." Nino shot a friendly punch against Marinette's shoulder and then wrapped an arm around Alya's waist as she led them to their new classroom. "Did he just indirectly mention that he'd rather have Chloé and Lila over Jean as his classmate?" Marinette huffed with endearment, taking the hand that Adrien offered to help her up. The sudden rush to her head caused her to wobble on the spot. Luckily, Adrien steadied her without a word, hands clasping her forearms. "S-Sorry..." She attempted to step away but the boy's grip on her tightened, halting her. Marinette glanced back at Adrien with confusion, cocking her head to the side slightly and lips pursed. "...you're not feeling well, aren't you?" A nail in the coffin. Adrien scanned her body from head to foot, frown growing deeper. "You can barely stand." "I'm fine. I just...couldn't get any sleep. I was nervous for the first day of school and also didn't want to oversleep." Marinette answered quickly, looking away from him. She didn't expect his finger to hook under her chin, forcing eye contact. For the first time, Adrien glared at her. Glared. He leaned in closer, bending down so that he could reach her height. "Are you lying?" Neither of them budged. The mutterings and chatter from the students that were around grew fainter and fainter until all that was heard was the classroom doors slamming shut and the echos of the teachers doing the register. Marinette wanted to quickly deny the allegation. She wanted to push him aside and run to class. She wanted to forget how she momentarily confused Adrien with her partner. Though, even the Ladybug could run out of luck. "Adrien," She began. "We're going to be late." Her stoic, cool expression showed that she wasn't going to budge, pissing off her friend completely. The model tsked with irritation, quick to grab her hand whilst using his other one to adjust the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He moodily led her to their class, refusing to utter another word. For a split second, the defiance and stubbornness in Marinette's eyes were a hundred percent identical to Ladybug's. He almost blurted out his treasured nickname for her. The annoyance of said stubbornness and refusal to accept his help grew stronger instead, causing him to try and forget about it and brood later on. What's with his treasured girls and their stupid reluctance to let him help!? . He wasn't aware of the horror that was plastered on Marinette's face. The girl refused to tear her eyes away from the main door behind them as a lone, torn up, dirty ribbon flayed in the entrance. A familiar ribbon that was most definitely not there ten seconds ago. When M. Haprèle closed the door, Marinette could have sworn... ...that there was a pair of blue eyes watching her right back. . . . ~(x)~ A/N: That's the end of chapter one! It's more like a prologue ish, slow chapter since we're building up- so bear with me, aight? I hope you enjoyed reading it regardless. I stayed up till 5am to write it after all :0 If this chapter gets at least ten comments, I will update! Till then, see you next time~

#my writing #my fanfiction #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #ghost blanc au #chat blanc #chat noir #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #mariblanc #adrinette #adrienette #marichat #ladrien #ladynoir #love square #horror #supernatural

[set-phasers-to-whump]

danger: do not enter water

prompt: drowning

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hi it’s ya boy back with more nick whump! this fic is an au of sorts to la llorona. if you’re thinking “wait a minute phase, didn’t you already write an au to la llorona?” you are correct! however this is my absolute fave episode and also i learned some new info about the setting from my trip a few months ago so i simply Had To write this. anyway the gist of that info is that the waters at kelley point park are super duper strong and unpredictable and like, several people have drowned there. there are signs Everywhere telling you not to go in the water (which is what my title is from lol). that is more than enough out of me now, hope you enjoy this fic!

Hank and Espinosa grab the kids as Nick runs full speed into La Llorona, tackling her away from them. Hank looks down at the three children for a moment, reassuring them that everything will be alright, and when he looks back up both Nick and La Llorona are gone, disappeared beneath the water.

“Nick!” he shouts, but there is no response. Everything is deadly silent. He holds his breath, as if to measure how much air Nick might have.

A few seconds later, Nick’s head breaks through the surface of the water, way farther out than Hank would’ve thought he could’ve gotten in such a short time. He breathes a sigh of relief that immediately turns into a surprised shout as Nick suddenly sinks back under the water - is pulled under, by the looks of it, by La Llorona. Everything goes silent and still again. 

He’ll give Nick thirty seconds to win this fight before going after him. He doesn’t hold his breath this time - not if he’s going to need to dive under the water himself.

Thirty seconds pass. Nothing. Hank starts walking forwards, and Espinosa grabs his arm firmly. She looks at him and shakes her head, opens her mouth to say something that Hank doesn’t hear. He pulls away from her grasp and is about to go running into the water when finally, Nick surfaces again, even farther out than he had been before. Even from the shore, Hank can hear him coughing and gasping for breath, but all that means is that he’s alive. 

“Nick!” he shouts again. “Are you okay? Nick!”

Nick doesn’t answer. Strangely, he looks like he’s stopped moving completely. And then, he goes back under, but this time, it doesn’t look as though he’s been suddenly pulled - he looks more like he’s being swept away, or slowly dragged, and then Hank remembers something very important about where they are. 

The confluence of two very powerful rivers. A park where several people have drowned because of strong currents and unpredictable conditions. Conditions that Nick had gone running headfirst into. 

For a horrible second, Hank stands there on the beach with no idea of what to do. If Nick isn’t strong enough to fight against the water, Hank isn’t going to fare any better, but it’ll take way too long for any kind of rescue team to arrive. He doesn’t know what he can do. 

But evidently, Espinosa does. “Watch the kids,” she says, and before he can say anything in response, she’s racing into the water at a superhuman speed. 

He watches her, keeping the three children close by, as she swims with surprising ease out into the water. He watches her disappear, just as Nick had done, but unlike Nick, she reappears a second later, several yards away from where she’d just been. She does this two more times, and on the third, when she surfaces, she’s pulling Nick along with her. 

Espinosa makes her way back to shore, her speed hardly hampered by Nick’s weight. As soon as she stops swimming and stands up on solid ground, Hank runs out to meet her, splashing through the cold water as she trudges closer to him, Nick’s body draped awkwardly over her shoulder. 

Hank takes one of Nick’s arms and pulls it over his own shoulder, and together the two of them pull him to the shore, depositing him onto the sand. 

Hank fumbles in his pockets for his fortunately-dry phone, which he quickly passes off to Espinosa. “Call 911,” he says, grabbing Nick’s wrist and feeling for a pulse. 

“Is he- ” Espinosa starts, her fingers dialing. 

“No pulse,” Hank says, as Espinosa begins speaking to the 911 operator. He puts a hand to Nick’s chest. “And he’s not breathing. I’m starting CPR.”

Distantly, Hank hears Espinosa convey this information to the operator, hears her say something to the children, as he begins pressing down onto Nick’s chest, counting the beats aloud. He feels Nick’s ribs start to give beneath his hands, then hears a cracking sound. He flinches but doesn’t stop. Broken ribs are good. They mean the compressions are going deep enough. And they’re a hell of a lot better than dying.

After thirty seconds, Hank pauses his compressions and covers Nick’s mouth with his own, delivering two quick rescue breaths. Then it’s back to the compressions, then the rescue breaths, then compressions…

And then Nick’s eyes open, unfocused and confused. They widen quickly, out of pain or fear or shock, Hank doesn’t know. He doesn’t much care, at the moment. Nick is alive, which is all that matters. He stops his compressions and rolls Nick onto his side in the recovery position. 

“He’s breathing!” he calls out to Espinosa, pretending not to notice the slight tremble in his voice. 

“Ambulance is seven minutes out!” she shouts back. “And they’re telling the parents and your precinct that the children are safe!”

Hank nods, though he knows Espinosa can’t see him. He’s looking at Nick, just lying there on the sand, and he wants nothing more than to help him up and wrap him in his coat and get him warm and dry. But the recovery position is the protocol, and Hank figures he can follow at least one rule today. So he leaves Nick lying down on his side, but puts a hand on his back and rubs it in circles and listens to Nick’s breathing. It’s ragged and sort of gasping, but it’s there. And then Nick coughs, and doesn’t stop coughing, and then he’s vomiting up mouthful after mouthful of water, and Hank thinks of how long he’d been under the water, and he thinks of how much this must be hurting his chest, and he thinks that Nick almost died, and he dimly feels his hands start to shake as the adrenaline wears off. Nick had almost died. 

He’s startled out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts by a soft sound from Nick, something between a whimper and a sob. He’s never heard Nick make a sound like that before, and it makes something protective and fierce flare up in his chest. To hell with the recovery position, he decides, and gently guides Nick upwards into what could charitably be called a sitting position, pulling him close. Nick is wet and cold and shivering, and he’s still breathing raggedly, but the water that had nearly killed him is out of his system and he is breathing and his heart is beating and he’s alive, which is damn well good enough. Hank holds him tightly, trying to be mindful of his almost-certainly-broken ribs, one hand firmly holding the back of his head, fingers tucked into his soaking hair, the other hand on his back, fingers splayed out, keeping Nick from falling backwards into the sand. 

Hank speaks to Nick for the first time since he’d shouted at him across the water. It’s really nothing at all, just a constant repetition of you’re okay, you’re okay, and he has no idea how much of that repetition, that insistence, is for Nick’s benefit and how much is to reassure and convince himself that Nick really is okay.

Nick has been shaking this entire time, so it takes Hank a moment to realize that the shaking isn’t only from the cold. Nick is crying, almost silent except for the occasional hitch in his still-uneven breathing. Hank feels Nick’s hands come up to rest on his back, then fall back down, as though moving them had been too tiring. He pulls Nick somehow closer still and guides his head down to rest against his shoulder. He cards his fingers through Nick’s hair and moves his other hand up and down his back, as though the movement alone will warm him up, comfort him, convince him of the words he’s been repeating over and over. 

“You’re okay,” he says, for what feels like the thousandth time. He feels Nick give a small, jerky nod, and thinks that he could cry in relief. He laughs wetly instead. 

“I’m glad we agree,” Hank whispers, and in a moment of sheer relief, he bends his head down slightly and presses a quick, soft kiss to Nick’s hair. “You really are okay.”

aaaa thanks sm for reading this! everything in here is as accurate as i could make it and i researched like. all of it. fun facts for you: jaguars are super strong swimmers and rescue breaths are still used in cpr when the victim has drowned. hopefully you will not need to use that second bit of info but hey. the more you know. anyway i hope you liked this!!!!

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump3 #grimm #nick burkhardt #drowning #i say things #my writing #i wrote this as pre ship but you can read it howsoever you choose! #anyway kelley point park is actually super nice and very pretty but also it Can kill you #which i think is fun #anyway there are literally signs like every 20 feet in like 20 different languages saying 'yo don't swim here' #not that anyone would have paid attention to them given their situation but like. oughh the moment i saw them signs i Knew what i had to wri #*write #ok im done talking now. hope u enjoyed!

[cg29]

Because of link issues with this site I’ve decided to paste my WIPS onto here as well as AO3 & FFNet. Starting with the 1st 3 chapters of the fic I’m currently working on, and have also most recently updated.

Reflections

Set after Virgil's crash during the original series episode of 'Terror in New York City.' (Season 1 episode 4) Short reflections from each of the family on nearly losing a brother and son.

Thank you to @janetm74 for the Beta on C3.

Chapter 1: Scott.

Italic/Bold speech is not mine and comes from the original episode.

“The wheels have gone; I can’t hold her… I’m… I’m going to crash!”

Scott’s heart lurched at the pure panic emanating from Virgil’s voice, but there was nothing he could do as he watched Thunderbird Two squeal across the runway with dark heavy flames springing forth. Finally, and thankfully she came to a stop and the pure white foam rained down on her distinguishing the blaze… But his little Brother was still inside… “What’s going on,” he yelled over his communicator, “why is no one getting him out?”

‘T…They’re on their way Scott,’ Brains replied, ‘I’m h…here to a…assist you with l…landing.’

‘I don’t need any damn assistance, get the med bay prepped for my brother!’

‘FAB!’

Okay, a bit harsh maybe, but Virg was in there… He’d attended too many fire related incidents, he knew the consequences if someone wasn’t rescued quickly… God damn it, they had to get him out… Finally, bringing Thunderbird One into the hangar, Scott unbuckled and shot out of his chair. The further procedures he was required to run through could wait… Virgil needed him more.

…

“How is he?” He puffed out, racing over to his father just as his two brothers were bringing Virgil out of his singed bird.

“Unresponsive… Head injury, smoke inhalation, possible broken ribs,” Gordon reeled off.

“Let’s get him to the infirmary,” Jeff said, allowing his two youngest to go ahead with Virgil before looking back to Scott, “are you coming?”

Scott heaved out a breath and nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming!”

…

A few days later…

He stared down at his sleeping brother, it could have been so much worse, and the words from that moment still danced in his mind…

“Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, come in Virgil... Virgil are you okay? Virgil, pull her up… Can you hear me? Come in Thunderbird Two... Virgil, you’re crashing… Pull her up… Virgil, get a grip on yourself, you’ve got to pull out of that dive!”

If his brother hadn’t dragged himself out of that dive at the last second, he wouldn’t be here… And to be honest, he didn’t know if he would be either. He would have dived Thunderbird One in after her sister ship, and tried everything within his power to pull Virgil out, but it wouldn’t have worked, and both of them would have gone down…

“You did good son.”

“Ha?” Scott mumbled, looking to his father who was standing beside him.

“You did a good job. You talked your brother through a very severe situation, and you got him home. You saved his life Scott, and because of that he will be back to himself before we know it. Now, stop thinking about the alternatives.”

“How did you know?”

“I know you,” Jeff nodded towards Virgil who was shifting in his bed, “looks like he’s waking.”

Virgil groggily forced his eyes open.

“How, are you Virgil?” Jeff questioned.

“Welcome back to the land of the living!” Scott added.

Virgil sat himself up. “What happened to Thunderbird Two?”

‘TYPICAL!’ Scott inwardly chuckled while his father went on to answer. If his brother was already worrying about his bird, then his dad was definitely right… Virgil would get better, and soon they would both be out there together again.

Chapters 2 & 3 featuring John & Gordon below the cut.

Chapter 2: John

“Thunderbird 5. My home away from home. I love being here, the solitude suits me and because of that I’m the one who is up here the most. Don’t get me wrong I adore my family and I enjoy spending time with each of them when I’m on leave but being here amongst the stars that I’ve gazed up at in wonder since I was a small boy makes me feel so peaceful. Four days ago, that tranquillity was shattered, and for the first time ever I am finding myself wishing that someone could replace me, someone could come here and take me home.

You see my first younger brother, the one who holds us altogether with his natural calming and added creative abilities was nearly killed while I was sleeping. I know, I know, me sleeping didn’t cause his crash, but if I had been awake then maybe I could have done something to help him, like hacking the Sentinel and stopping them from firing on his bird. Instead, I was on ordered downtime after two back-to-back missions which had kept me awake for over forty-eight hours. The first required Thunderbird fours assistance, the second was in space with Alan. After I called in the third requiring just Scott and Virgil my dad, believing it was a rescue that wouldn’t require my expertise, ordered me to communicate any vital information I had to my brothers, then relay Thunderbird Five’s communications to Tracy Island so I could spend the next ten to twelve hours asleep. I managed the full twelve and after a shower and food I was ready to return to work. Except, the reply I received when contacting base wasn’t the one that I was expecting.

Ten minutes it took for me to make contact, I can’t begin to explain the thoughts that had rampaged through my mind when no one was responding, Alan finally answered looking slightly pale and very tired. Immediately I demanded to know what was going on, the answer drained me completely. The Sentinel had fired missiles at Virgil, thankfully dad had been able to reach Washington and stop the meaningless attack, but the damage that had already been received was great and my little brother was extremely lucky to make it back to the island. Well, I say lucky… Head injury, smoke inhalation, broken ribs, several cuts, and bruises. Yet, it wasn’t until the following day that he regained consciousness… But he was still alive, and that’s what mattered.

After a long chat with the youngest to make sure he was coping I signed off and instantly logged into our islands security feeds so I could see the crash. Yes, I know it sounds a little morbid, but the reality was probably not as dramatic as what was playing through my mind. Thankfully, although extreme, it wasn’t. However, what seeing that crash didn’t do was alleviate the need that I still have now to see and talk to Virgil.  What it did do was produce another need, one that I could do something about, and that was to make sure that the man who recklessly fired at the kindest person you could ever wish to meet receives some sort of justice. Nothing too malicious of course, we are in the business of saving lives and not taking them, but maybe I’ll put my hacking prowess to use and make sure he gets discharged from his position. Whatever I choose though won’t be pretty but will be fully deserved…

…Oh, one moment, I seem to have a call coming through from home - - - - It’s Virgil… Sorry, but I have to go, he still looks really groggy and probably won’t be able to talk for too long, but I’ve desperately been needing this chat… Catch you guys later, Thunderbird Five out.”

Chapter 3: Gordon.

The ocean before him was calm, the turbulent thoughts raging inside his heart were not. All caused by his current location. The Sentinel… Gordon had arrived two hours before and introductions had immediately been made between himself, the crew, and the Captain. The same Captain who had given the damn order to shoot Thunderbird Two down. Yes, they had presumed that an attack was possibly imminent. Nonetheless, they should have done a comprehensive check before going all gung-ho. Then they would have realised that it wasn’t a strike vessel, it was an International Rescue aircraft, and a person was on board. A person who was loved. Loved by a family who had already been torn apart by the loss of a mother and wife. A family that didn’t deserve to lose anyone else.

They had been reckless, and even though most on board had asked after the wellbeing of his teammate, the Captain, the idiot who had ordered them to fire had not made any queries. He had approached him, introduced himself, and then begun immediately filling him in on their trajectory and any further details he might need. After he had contacted Scott, the Captain had ordered one of his officers to assist, then sheepishly made his excuses and left, guilt plastered all over his face. Five minutes later Gordon was being shown to the sleeping quarters where he could get some shut eye in between any updates he needed to make.

He would probably take some downtime soon. For now, he just wanted to gaze at the ocean. The sea made everything better. Here he could switch his attention from the surface to air missile launchers that had taunted him with their sickening capabilities upon arrival, and instead concentrate on his mission. A mission that would normally be routine. Instead, two men who were trapped and injured had to wait just over twenty-four hours. Two lives might be lost because they shot his big brother down. Gordon gripped the rail and slowly breathed out while focussing on the rhythmic pulse from the ocean waves, and the fact that Virgil, although severely injured and definitely needing some time to recuperate, had survived the atrocious crash.

However, it had come so close to being a different outcome and the gut-wrenching, mind-swirling sickness at the thought of ‘what could have been’ had buried itself deeper and deeper into his heart and refused to release its grasp. Needing to go inside to retrieve Virgil had made those feelings more horrific. Sure, he had saved countless lives from fires, but to have to rescue a brother, a member of his own family, ‘that’ he wasn’t used to. His brother had been crumpled over, a deep cut on his head was bleeding, and his eyes were tightly closed. For a horrible moment, both himself and Alan had stood there before moving forwards. He thought he had lost Virgil, that his big brother was already dead. Thankfully, upon reaching him a pulse was discovered. Virgil was alive. Professionalism immediately kicked in, and he and Alan worked together to get him on a stretcher and out of there as quickly as possible.

Since then, Alan had avoided Virgil. Obviously, the kid was still in shock and processing what had happened. Hopefully, by the time he returned his little brother would have gone to see Virgil, otherwise he would need to drag him in there. Of course, he had done the complete opposite and had not wanted to leave his brother’s side. He needed to ease up though. Virgil knew what his game was and had tried to reassure him several times that he wasn’t going to disappear on him. Yes, he would need to step back a little when he returned, after he had once again checked that his kind-hearted, generous brother was still alive and well.

His ever-forgiving brother, who never held a grudge, had even suggested that they use the Sentinel to save lives. Okay, that made sense, the two men were trapped; their lives were what mattered, not how he felt about the Sentinel. Unfortunately, Gordon wasn’t that big of a person, and boy was he stewing over his feelings right now. A yawn emitted from him, and he looked at his watch. There was still just over two hours to go before he needed to check-in with Scott. Plenty of time for a power nap in the quarters. He certainly needed one. During the past week he’d either been helping out with two, doing his usual maintenance checks or sitting by his brothers’ side and he hadn’t managed a lot of downtime.

Tomorrow would bring a tough rescue and he needed his full alertness to save the two men, especially with the lack of time they would have left. There was also Virgil’s ‘big brother’ voice inside his head yelling at him to get some down time. He breathed in the fresh air, allowing the knowledge that he would continue hearing his brother’s nagging to engulf him. A smile formed. That’s what mattered, not his infuriation towards the Captain, or his current location. Virgil was alive. Thunderbird Two would be restored to her former glory. His eyes switched from the azure sea to the vastness overhead. Then, one day soon she would be soaring with her pilot, his best big brother, through those illustrious oceanic blue skies.

chapter 4 Here...

#Thunderbirds Fanfiction #Thunderbirds #Thunderbirds Original Series #Terror in New York City #Thunderbirds OS #Thunderbirds Are Go

[claudiafekete]

This is another ordinary story of “how xxx fandoms changed my life” -

- or maybe not. you decide. I want to write it down.  trigger warning for politics, discussion of sexual violence, mild gender dysphoria It’s also horribly long. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

When I first came to tumblr, I had just graduated from APH. Short for Axis Power Hetalia. I learned about it in the form of manga. For years it was my everything - I learned what fanfic or fanart meant and I learned the basic online etiquette. As I grew in years, it accompanied me.

Until it didn’t.

Shortly after I fell into solangelo.

It’s a fun story, how I picked up PJO years after years of absence. My brother was whining about something written in Magnus Chase. “What do you think the Norse Gods were going to do to Percy that Annabeth was crying?” He demanded. I expressed my confusion. He kept on with his different theories and I made the decision to look it up online later.

My online search of Percy Jackson’s fate soon revealed something unknown to me before: solangelo. The first canon gay ship I ever knew. Therefore, at the ripe old age of 19, I threw myself into this endless hole called “tumblr” for the first time.

It was the most LGBTQ+ friendly place I had ever been. I joke you not. It was also the place where I was taught not only how a healthy relationship should look like, but also how sex should or could be like.  You don’t learn anything healthy about sex in Chinese or Mandarin using fandom, at least during the years I was in them. There were rigid 攻/受(roughly translated as top/bottom) stereotypes that everyone rushed to squeezed their characters into them. A lot of time though both person might ship A with B, they wouldn’t interact because one thought A should top and another thought B should top. Their different topping designation resulted in depictions of the characters’ personalities so dramatically differed that you couldn’t recognize them as the same characters.  Other than the refreshing relationship dynamics, Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard offered me a chance to take a look at my gender identity. I had known that theoretically non-binary people existed outside of binary gender, but I hadn’t known how one might live as one or describe themselves as one. I’m not trying to claim that Alex Fierro’s story is the only story of non-binary people. I’m trying to say that it was the starting point for me to make exploration and find the label  “agender” for myself.

I stayed in APH for 6 years. I had expected to stay in solangelo for longer.

Entered June 2019 with its whispers and anxious demonstrations. Entered folks pouring into streets in Hong Kong. Entered tear gas and facemasks and sticks and a bullet scarcely missing the heart and journalists beaten by police. Entered young students not of age disappearing mysteriously. Entered people dressed in white attacking citizens and not arrested by police. Entered dead bodies that were probably “被自殺 (being suicided)”.

Entered a city falling into the hands of tyrants next to your door, and you didn’t know how to help. You didn’t know what to do with yourself with your clean and spare hands. You were so far away from the frontline, you were angry and helpless and hopeless for that.

It was the first time I witnessed, first-hand, how the Chinese government directed the discussion online, so that it seemed as if there were random mobs who were disturbing the peace of Hong Kong and possibly taking money or being trained by US.  “Bullshit. Would there still be so many kids hurt on street if we have received any kinds of training for this?“  Of course, the majority of Chinese people inland wouldn’t hear that. Hong Kong is a former colony. Any calls of outrage toward the present government must be made by disillusioned young people who were unaware of colonization and imperialism. 

That was why I took refugee in Good Omens. I needed to run some where to stop myself from scratching myself to blood. I needed to some works for these clean and spare hands to do so that they wouldn’t pick up something destructive, such as a knife.

If the PJOverse fandom had felt the best place on earth, well, the Good Omens fandom lifted me into paradise. 

I’ve never seen so much kindness being showed under one tag. The creators and actors were all kind and interacted with the fans in their own ways. We were encouraged to do everything, anything, to build art with it however we liked. We as fans were recognized. We were seen. We were ... cared for. It was overwhelming, in a good way.  For that, I would be forever thankful to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and Michael Sheen and so many others in the production. I would be forever thankful to artists who liberated body types and freed the ties between gender expression and genitals. I would be forever thankful for the fantastic creators out there.

Would it seem as if I’ve only cherished the mutuals I met in Good Omens fandom? It wasn’t my intention. There are friends I keep in touch long after I fell out of love with APH. There are mutuals I got to know through solangelo and I feel, I hope that we are friends. Everyone who has chat with me I do my best to remember. (Though I do left conversation in weird places, become so ashamed of my incompetency that I do not continue them.)

What I’m trying to say is, as good as the solangelo fandom was, I still ran into biphobic posts here and there. It was only once or twice – but it was a constant reminder that being bisexual didn’t seem “valid” to some of the other LGBTQ+ members out there. Who cares what cis-gendered, heteronormative people said? Bullets that shot from friendly fire hurt the worst.

Besides, with a large and vibrant fandom like Good Omens, it’s easier to feel less alone and more… seen.

Damn right. Even after writing more that 5000 words in English it is still so easy to fall back into the comfortable nest of mother tongue. I can read simplified Chinese characters as well as the traditional Chinese characters I grow up using. There probably will never be getting the accent right but soundlessly devouring words in front of a screen? I excel at that.

That was what’s happening when the days rolled into January, 2020. I flew to US as an exchange student and exchanged long letters with a young Chinese woman I met in Good Omens fandom. I’ve never felt so alone in life. English as in creative writing has never come more naturally for me. The words burst in my head and arranged themselves freely on screen or on papers. I’ve never felt more hopeful about my writing ability.

The days rolled into March, 2020.

The first time my mom told me to come home over home, I laughed. The second time, I frowned. Before she pleaded me for the third time, I had grabbed a ticket.

I hadn’t imagined the disease plaguing China and its neighboring countries would affect the whole world.

You lived the rest of the story. I fled back to Taiwan.

 That was where Doctor Who came in. Or David Tennant. Such a strange time. For fourteen days I was the only living human in the house. I watched Casanova – or was it later? Hamlet definitely came before that. Then I could live with my family again. I handed in my homework and wrote in a different language than the people around me were speaking. My parents were working. My little brother was in school. When there was no one to talk to me I either read or watch Doctor Who to pass the time. I fell for Thirteen. I fell for twissy. Falling fast and hard and completely won over by their glamour.

I started internship. There were some small breaks where I could catch an episode or half, but never as much time as before. I dipped into fandom wiki and found that no matter how much research I did, there would always be details I overlooked simply because I could not afford hours watching all the episodes. No matter how hard I squeezed my schedule for time, no matter how much I devoted myself to the series, it would never be enough.

So I gave up, and let it go. For the first time in quite a while, I willingly gave up something for the simple reason of “I want to live a more comfortable life”.

 Came summer. Damp air combined with biting heat and piles after piles of biochemical terms made life agonizing. An ordinary kind of pre-pandemic “agonizing” which felt like a luxury in a world that was ending.

Hong Kong fell.

It was bound to happen. Once I heard protestors fought their way into the legislature I knew, for almost an year I knew, nothing good would come out of this. CCP would never allow its subjects acting out of hand. With such open despise to the authority, CCP would take nothing but a full conquest at the end of it.

See where we are now. As long as you’re “interfering” the political climate “inside” China, it doesn't matter which nationality you hold or where you were or how long it has been since you made the statement. “According to the law”, China can come for you. No, better, it can tell your country to hand you over. What a clever empire. What a graceful empire.

What a horrifying empire.

With the news I spiraled down fast. I kept away from the young Chinese woman I was exchanging letters with, I kept away from any kinds of Chinese social media, and the worst of all, I kept away from Good Omens, for it was sweet and kind and hopeful, for it reminded me of a time where fighting seemed to make a difference. I was empty and exhausted and a husk. Something must come out to fill the void. Someone needed to paint me in colors so that the world wouldn’t notice I was fading away.

I was surprised at who took the brush.

 After ten years, the first man I ever have a crush on strolled back into my life.

He was over thirty, but I always pictured him in his early twenties. Dark hair, eyes of grey or silvery blue. Loud laughter that sounded like a bark. Swift and elegant. Intelligent. Prideful. Stubborn. I embraced him as I’ve done ten years ago as a little child.

When I looked past him, I saw someone else.

Worn, weathered, with wry humor. Attentive and considerate. Tortured by the world yet never stop giving out kindness. Countless scars. Grey hair unfitting to his age. I didn’t pay him much attention ten years ago. This time, I looked.

Let me introduce you Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, my very first crush and the man who is too much like my last crush.

 2020, a month before Fall semester started, I trekked cautiously, timidly back into Harry Potter fandom.

The fandom of August 2020 was very different from fandom of 2010. The lack of author, for one – it became mandatory to denounce the author’s transphobic statement and other bigotry setting. I’m glad that everyone is doing their best to make it a friendly place for minority groups. Though I’m afraid, by making it a white or black situation with short statements and no discussion, it wouldn’t really help people understand why she is wrong in this. However irrefutable the author’s guilt seems to us, it is not something obvious to those who are unfamiliar with the subjects.

But it does feel good to see blogs and fics with the introduction such as “If you support the author’s transphobic bullshit this place does not welcome you”. It feels reliving.

The second was, I found the type of work I’m actively pursuing changed.

Back when I was young – when I was so little I didn’t even know what the word “fandom” meant – I read Character x OFC and some M x M. During the APH period I read an alarming amount of M x M and countless historical AU. When digging through solangelo, beside the canon divergence stories, simple AU like coffee shop grabbed my attention. Coming out stories were my comforts. The best of Good Omens fics were either in canon verse discussing desires, bravery, humanity and mortality, or setting in an AU with the promise of sweet, fluffy endings. Doctor Who almost always focused on Time and Space. Love was twisted and so often tainted by anger. Monster and god were very alike.

I came a full circle back to the Marauder era, and found myself not looking for heroes, but for young fighters struggling desperately in a seemingly hopeless war. I looked for people who were frightened but never, never ever going down without a fight.

I used to find characters and events unfolding in foreign places, now I want  characters who are close to what I am or what I want to be.

---

So, that’s it, my grand journey through multiple fandoms and basically a journey of self-discovery. It’s messy, sometimes painful, but always with so much joy blooming along the way.

Something doesn’t change. I’m still obsessed with words. I’m still a sucker for happy ending. I’m still wishing someone will come and love me the way I need to be loved.

Something does. I stop imagining that some magical power will come into my life and solve everything. I stop looking for others to save me from myself. I start believing that though wounds hurt, some of them do teach us to be a better person.

Long ago, I saw my friends and I as rabbits, without proper weapons to defend ourselves. That wouldn’t do. I thought. For my friends I’ll grow into a snake with fangs to protect them. Maybe I have grown into a snake. Maybe I haven’t. But I do hope I won’t stop fighting for those I love, with those I love.

I hope I won’t give up.

#APH #axis power hetalia #pjo #percy jackson #solangelo #tw: politics #tw: sex mention #magnus chase #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #alex fierro #hong kong extradition bill #hong kong demonstration #good omens #doctor who #tw: personal review of pandemic #harry potter #sirius black #remus lupin #hong kong national security law

[lovecomedy]

Fanfic recommendations nobody asked for

Those are my favorite wincest fic ever, just because. They are all complete. I’ll add the summaries together with my own two cents.

Consider the Hairpin Turn by cherie_morte. 27K Words

AU of 6x22: Sam's wall has shattered and the memories in his mind have splintered. When the Sam who remembers Hell tells him to go find Jess and be happy, Sam knows he can't stay while Dean needs him. But when the Sam from Hell says that Dean is already there looking for him, Sam leaves his memories of the pit behind to find him.

What he finds is a life he doesn't remember: a house that he shares with his brother (and has for years), a law career he thought he'd left behind at Stanford, and a relationship with Dean he never dreamed he could have. Life is almost too good to be true, at least until Sam begins to hear his brother's voice calling to him, begging him to wake up.

This is my favorite fic of all times. It’s beautifuly written. The way that it narrates Sam’s trauma of Hell is what keeps me coming back for more . Honestly it should be published as a book. Don’t worry, it has very happy scenes and there’s a happy ending

Welcome to the Neighborhood by ImogenPortchester. 2K Words

Dean thinks the new neighbors are interesting, but all is not what it seems.

Super short. Super heartbreaking.

Fics by leonidaslion

I mean first off, just read everything written by leonidaslion

Sing Your Hymns Like Angels In Defeat. 32K Words. 

And Lucifer Fell for a second time with the burning brilliance of a star. The Flare shone in his wake, and darkness fell upon the land ...

Dean goes blind, and I love how it describes Dean’s stuggles with it. You feel like you’re blind with him. Really, really, REALLY well written. Should probably also be a book

Fumbling in the Dark: Love Advice For the Romantically Impaired. 72K

True Love really is blind...

It’s basically a character study of every single episode of the first 5 seasons, with a wincest twist. Slow burn. Holy shit, is it a slow burn. 

Just Say My Name. 3K Words

Dean turns into a complete and utter nympho. It takes Sam a while to notice the difference.

Funny, lighthearted and porny

Hush. 2K Words

Motel walls are thin...

Discovery!kink. Sam and Dean try to have quiet sex while John is in the other room. At least, Dean is trying

Sam Winchester and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. 15K Words

Sometimes, you just shouldn't get out of bed in the morning ...

Fics by fleshflutter

Dark Side of the Moon. 20K Words

Cursed!Dean is deaf and blind. Sam deals.

The incestuous courtship of the antichrist's bride. 48K Words

Sam is trying to become the Antichrist in order to save the world. He has a small army of angels and demons, he has an adoring cult, he has a work of prophecy by Jack Kerouac, and he has Dean. Things are going pretty well until he accidentally signs Dean up as his Beloved Consort, a role that requires sex with the Antichrist on an altar. And that's when things stop going pretty well. Also, the soundtrack to the Apocalypse sucks.

I don’t like crack fics, but goddamn this one is FUNNY. You can tell a lot of thought was put into this freaking masterpiece

Captured by the Game by rivkat. 54K Words

AU. Azazel has given his favorite son a task: worm his way into the confidence of a hunter. It sounds simple, but Dean Winchester just might be more than Sam can handle.

It wasn’t real by NaughtyPastryChef. 1K Words

Sam is trying to explain to Dean where he was when Dean was stuck in purgatory. It starts with "I hit a dog" and then, suddenly, inexplicably, they both know exactly where Sam was.

Wonderful explanation for that arc in season 8 nobody can stand. Plus, time travel, which I’m always a sucker for

Backseat of My Brother's 67 Chevy by NaughtyPastryChef. 1K Words

Extended scene from "Baby". Dean's feeling proud of Sam's hookup until he hears that Sam tried to give that waitress his number. Uncharacteristically, he lets Sam force him to talk about it. 

Bury My Old Soul, and Dance on its Grave by  dreamlittleyo. 2K Words

Dean knows how far he can push Sam.

Antichrist!Sam and Consort!Dean. Codependent winchesters. Yeah

Graveside Blues by hunenka. 3K Words

He uses his body like a blanket, like a shield.

I like how protective Sam is of Dean here, and it deals with something I don’t see a lot such as the jealousy he would have of Dean’s bond with Amara

own it by orphan_account. 6K Words

But he's never going to be able to burn the image of Sam cradling one hand around the perfect curve of Dean's face, dropping the other to the cut of Dean's hip (made for fingers and tongues to trail down, to taste), walking Dean backward until Dean is flush against the wall and Sam is flush against him. This is something that can't be denied.

John finds out. Explores the wonderful trope of both Sam and his father being possessive of Dean, and being very antagonistical to each other. Dysfunctional family yay. Also very porny

Fics by astolat

Punxsutawney. 9K Words

* astolat thinks any plot worth doing is worth doing TWICE

This is the Mistery Spot plot, but a little different. Sam AND Dean wake up to the same day over and over again. So they talk.

Kings and Queens and Jokers, Too. 4K Words

"Yeah, you boys nailed that trickster real good," Bobby said, dry as dust.

People are acting weird around the brothers. Can’t really say anything else without spoiling it. Listen just do yourself a favor and read it. 

options. 500 Words

Decisions, decisions. 

Short and funny. Little bit porny

Desired. 2K Words

He hadn't even known about any of this himself until Sam found it, figured it out for him. He hadn't known how it was going to be.

So, smut. They have a better time when Dean is the one who asks for it

Rockabye Sammy... by  AnotherWorld3111. 1K Words

Sam can’t sleep, so Dean tries to help.

Sam keeps hallucinating Lucifer. Dean is worried and protective of him. Porny

We Know Each Other As We Always Were by mickeym. 45K Words

In 1941, while the world is at war, Sam Winchester falls in love with his brother. They're young, they're in love, and in spite of the hardships of life around them, the world is a pretty good one for them. Until Dec. 7th, 1941, when Japan launches an air attack on Pearl Harbor, sending the US to war against Japan. Dean Winchester feels he needs to join the Army; needs to help fight the good fight and help save lives. He promises he'll return, but can he keep that promise?

GAH this is so romantic! It’s an AU, but I feel like they’re very in character. It feels like a novel

For The End of My Broken Heart by Wickedtruth. 59K Words

Dad's disappeared and Sam's left to pick up the pieces of his broken brother. Post Devil's Trap AU.

Very codependent Winchesters. Also John finds out. 

here at the end of all things by  remy (iamremy). 40K Words

AU from Season 12 onwards. The British Men of Letters win in the USA, and slowly manage to establish their bases and authority over the whole country. They also capture Sam Winchester and keep him prisoner for eleven months, experimenting on him regularly before wiping his memories so that he has no idea what has been done to him.

Even after Dean rescues him and they begin planning to get revenge once and for all, the niggling doubt at the back of Sam's head remains -- what did they do to him? Why won't his anxiety get better? And what is it that he's missing?

Ok you got me, this is gen. But the whole fic feels like a (good) Supernatural episode, it’s so realistic and canon-like. The relationship between the brothers is just like the one we see on the show, meaning desperately codependent and wincest in every subtext.

Fics by deadlybride / zmediaoutlet

What I like about @zmediaoutlet is that she takes the time to write everyone in character. It’s always as canonical as possible and it feels real

femme. 4K Words

Rummaging around the internet, Dean finds a kink he hadn't seen before; Sam explains, and demonstrates.

I love feminization, but unfourtunately there’s only one fic that does it right, and it’s this one

gratification. 2K Words

It's not a compulsion. Dean just likes it.

breña. 1K Words

Sam and Dean wait, knowing what's coming.

The night before Sam jumps in the box

not the good things, nor the bad. 20K

Dean wavers in a grey area between being taken and giving in.

Part of it started with the kinks series, but you can read this just fine without the other parts. It deals very beautifully with Dean’s thoughts regarding his bond with Amara and his sexuality

DeMille Has Nothing On Us by  HandsAcrossTheSea. 13K Words

"Hey Dean - wanna film it?"

This is part of the Those Hazy Days I Do Remember series, but you can 100% read it as a stand-alone, no problem. Sam and Dean film each other and this has that season 1 vibe, of just two brothers on the road. It’s slightly OOC, just because of how touchy-feely they are. But that’s something I sometimes wish we could have on the show, anyway

How many floors to realize by Lazy Daze. 26K Words

AU from the end of It’s A Terrible Life, in which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren’t somewhat entertaining, right?”

Rabid by i-am-therefore-i-fight 

Beautiful!! I love @i-am-therefore-i-fight‘s take on demon!dean. It’s different to what we’re used to. This fic is very angsty but has a happy ending

Bitten by a True Believer by kermiethefrog. 3K Words

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean says. Flashes him a wicked grin, charcoal-eyes. The way he spreads out on Sam’s mattress, bare and offering himself up like Holy fucking Communion, drums heat under Sam’s skin, and he’s never sure if it’s arousal or anger when he’s faced with the demon. “Show me a good time, big guy.”

Another demon!dean fic. I like how even as he is a demon, he is still desperate for Sam’s attention

The Time Traveler's Brother by  AmyPond45. 54K Words

Dean's life is turned upside down the night his mother dies. But that's also the night a mysterious grown-up version of Dean's brother first appears in his life. While Dean grows up, "Old Sam" is often there, especially when Dean's father isn't. As Dean learns what the future holds, he begins to question everything his father has taught him about who he is and what he is supposed to become. Can Dean find a way to save his little brother from his own future?

This is based on The Time Traveler’s Wife, which is my favorite book. Don’t worry, you don’t have to have read it to understand this fic

need against need against need by dollylux. 5K Words

Jack spends his first night in the bunker with Sam and Dean. (Jack POV)

Don’t worry, Jack just watches and ponders about the Winchester’ realationship

the centre cannot hold by orphan_account. 6K Words

Sam does not remember; Dean does. All Dean can do is watch, and mourn.

But then Castiel becomes God, and the world starts to break at the edges (and maybe that isn't a bad thing.)

It kinda becomes a character study, while the brothers deal with what happened during the Soulless!Sam period

The Last Temptation by bccalling. 1K Words

When Sam tells Mary about all the things he and Dean get up to in the dark, Mary wants in, and Sam sees his opportunity to make Dean’s every fantasy come true.

Mary shows up. Porny and very sweet

Angels and Demons by  OhWilloTheWisp. 9K Words

AU angels and demons are animals. Sam was not happy when his owner, Ruby, left him boarded at a kennel. He was even less happy when he discovered an angel in the same facility. But his encounter with the angel will end much differently than anyone would have guessed. He may have never expected his mate to be angel, but now that's found him he won't let anyone keep them apart.

Sam and Dean are kinda like animals here but there’s nothing sexual. It’s very sweet and romantic. Anna/Ruby in here as well

#wincest #fic rec #leonidaslion #fleshflutter #astolat #full house of wincest #bottom!dean #zmediaoutlet

[generallynerdy]

Nothing Special (11th Doctor X Reader)

Summary: There’s nothing special about you, aside from the fact that you travel through time and space with a nameless man for kicks-- and that you’re the only person in his 900 years of life that actually listens to him.

Requested by Nala (AO3): I would like you to write a 11th doctorxreader one shot Thanks!

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (L/N) - last name Warnings: none probably Word Count: 1,154

Note: ive had this request for approximately 226 days and ive finally watched enough doctor who to finish it!!!!! (personally tennant is my favourite but damn smith is a close second ill give u that. tho let’s be fair 13 is probably gonna be right there with him once i watch her episodes)

    "Amy? What are you doing?"

    You watched the redhead with wide eyes as she began to stroll down the hall, away from the big blue box you called home. She turned to you with a smile that you knew meant trouble.

    "Exploring," she replied simply. "Coming?"

    "The Doctor said to stay put," you said firmly, though the smirk on her face told you not to bother.

    She laughed. “He always says that! We never listen and we turn out fine, don’t we?”

    “You turn out kidnapped more often than not,” you huffed. “Amy? Amy! Come back here!”

    She ignored you with a shrug, disappearing around a corner. You groaned, knowing the Doctor definitely wouldn’t be happy. Whirling around, you gave Rory a hopeful expression, practically begging him to stay put.

    “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Can’t let her go by herself.”

    “Rory, don’t you dare--” You started, but he was already running after her.

    You sat in front of the Tardis with a huff, leaning against it for support. Whatever, you thought, pulling your knees up to your chest and looking around the musty old temple. I’m staying here. They can go die again if they want.

    But after a few minutes, the spite faded away, replacing itself with concern.

“Please don’t get into too much trouble,” you muttered to no one, hoping Amy, Rory, and the Doctor would hear you.

    “Too late!” Someone shouted from down the hall.

    You leapt to your feet and spotted your three friends sprinting toward you, terrified expressions on their faces. Amy was dragging Rory by the hand, the Doctor leading the way.

    “Time to run, we have to find the shrine at the bottom level of the temple but there’s a big thing chasing us--” He started as they came to a skidding stop in front of you. All of a sudden, he just stopped talking, looking at you with the most confused expression you’d ever seen.

    “Doctor,” Amy said. “Uh, we should probably run now.”

    He ignored her. “You stayed?” He asked you incredulously.

    “You told us to stay put,” you shrugged, face only slightly red. “So I stayed put.”

    “But you actually listened to me?”

    You nodded hesitantly. Was he mad that you didn’t listen? That’d be weird. Maybe he was just surprised you didn’t take after Amy and Rory.

    The Doctor blinked a few times. “Nobody ever listens to me.”

    “Time to go!” Rory exclaimed.

    Before you knew it, the Doctor had your hand and was dragging you down the hall, Amy and Rory following suit.

The four of you made your way down twisted tunnels and damp hallways to find an old temple shaft. It supposedly led down to the very bottom of the structure and conveniently had a cord to hold onto for dear life should you want to use the shaft.

It was probably a horrible idea, but there wasn’t much time to argue about it. Despite this lack of time, the Doctor decided to stop right before going down to the lower levels.

    “Hold on!” He shouted, stopping the three of you in your tracks. He turned to you. “You listened to me?”

    “You’re the one who travels through all of time and space,” you said. “I’d be daft not to.”

    You heard Amy mumble under her breath. “Rude.”

    “But nobody ever listens to me!” He exclaimed as if his entire life had just been ruined. “Not Donna, not Martha, not Jack, not Rose, not Amy and Rory--”

    Rory snorted. “Definitely not us.”

    “Nobody listens to me!” The Doctor guffawed.

    You couldn’t help biting your lip, slightly embarrassed at this point. He was making such a big deal out of something so small. “I always listen to you.”

    “Exactly!” He snapped his fingers. “So, what makes you, (Y/N) (L/N), so special?”

    “Uh…” You hesitated to answer, eventually just shrugging. “Nothing really.”

    The Doctor just turned, flapping his hands about as he was prone to do in the middle of a rant. “Nothing! Nothing special to space and time and humanity, so why-- why-- are you the one person in 900 years to listen to me?”

    You opened your mouth to speak. You would’ve been offended about the ‘nothing special’ comment if you had any self esteem, but luckily you were lacking in that department.

    Before you’d even exhaled, the Doctor had turned back to you. He was a little closer than you should have been comfortable with. You could almost feel his breath, which sent a chill up your spine.

    “Nothing special to the universe. But everything special--” He whispered, tone changed in an instant.

Hesitantly, he moved a hand to your chin, tilting it slightly upward so that you could see him. All the air in your lungs seemed to have miraculously disappeared, as did all of your will to continue living.

    “--to me.”

    Next thing you knew, you were kissing the Doctor-- the Doctor. 900 years of experience kicked in and you were left breathless. It was definitely a kiss you would never forget.

    Meanwhile, Rory was wide-eyed. “Well...didn’t expect that.”

    “Really?” Amy laughed. “You haven’t seen the drool whenever he takes his jacket off?”

    When the Doctor finally let you go, he had the goofiest grin on his face and a bright sparkle in his eyes. You flushed a bright red, but couldn’t wipe your smile away, either.

    “I could do that again,” he teased.

    “Really?” You asked with a laugh. “I could do that forever.”

    “That was painfully awkward,” Amy groaned. “Can we get back to the running, please?”

    You gasped and glanced between your friends and the Doctor mischievously. “I’ve just thought up a perfect revenge plan for all the times they made out right in front of us!”

    “I like the way you think,” the Doctor grinned.

    He went to kiss you again, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Meanwhile, Amy rolled her eyes, took her husband by the hand, and leapt into the shaft tunnel. She held tightly to the rope, but you could hear her scream halfway down, probably out of sheer adrenaline. Rory went after her, cursing under his breath.

    When you and the Doctor pulled away, the two of you broke into fits of childish giggles. In the distance, the roar of some vicious, starving alien echoed, but the two of you were too giddy to even care.

    “Oh, definitely my favourite adventure,” you told him.

    He smiled brighter than the sun when you said that, taking your hand and beginning to pull you toward the rope.

“One more for good measure,” He teased, pecking your lips once more as if he couldn’t help it. “And there’s more where that came from.”

You laughed. “Believe me, Doctor, I look forward to it. But we should probably start running.”

    “Right,” he nodded, preparing for the jump. Taking your hand, he leapt off the ledge, taking you down with him. “Geronimo!”

Masterlist

#doctor who x reader #doctor who #doctor who imagine #doctor who oneshot #doctor who fanfic #11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor imagine #eleventh doctor fanfic #novakitty #eleventh doctor oneshot #11th doctor imagine #11th doctor fanfic #novakitty114 #11th doctor oneshot #amy pond #rory williams #rory pond #generallynerdy #request #rivika #river

[satansluthouse]

You were my mission (Pt 1) Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi you guys so this is really shitty and my first Bucky imagine so don’t mind plot holes and bad writing, I really tried.

Word Count: 2707

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (over 18 ofc)

Warnings: Language, mentions of torture/abuse, mentions of killing/assassination. 

You stood in the corner observing what was being done in the middle of the room by Tony and Bruce. You weren’t necessarily listening but you still had a general understanding of what was going on. 

“And so with doing that, we’ll need eyes up in the North-East corner, Cap that’s where you’ll be stationed,” Tony said, bringing up a map and circling where Steve would be earning a small nod from him.

“Wanda you’ll be right below on ground level, we’ll give you a disguise of some sort. Just stay low and stay alert.”  Tony added,

“Let me guess, a hat and sunglasses?” Wanda replied snarkily. Tony paused before answering her in the same tone,

“Of sorts.” 

Tony continued talking about the plan for the next mission which was a new routine for everyone as Steve is usually the one coordinating everything. This was Tony’s fight and he said he couldn’t do it alone so by all means, everyone was there to help, including Bucky who he had a very complicated relationship with.

“And as for my most dangerous asset,” Tony went on not really grabbing your attention, “you will be with Barnes and Romanoff ready to fight.” 

Confused you looked up only to find the majority of everyone looking at you.

“What?” You asked confused.

“You’ll be with Barnes and Romanoff to hold the bad guys off, were you listening to anything Y/N?” Tony asked.

“I was listening, just didn’t realize you meant me by ‘most dangerous asset’. That usually means Natasha.” You responded, crossing your arms on your chest and leaning further against the wall you were stood in front of.

“Well, usually it would mean her but we-well she discovered you actually have a wider skill set than her when we were going through files the other day.” Tony answered, picking up his half-eaten donut and taking another bite out of it.

“Oh, okay then.” was all you said before Tony announced the meeting was adjourned and to be sharp in the morning. 

You pushed yourself off of the wall and began walking back to your room. ‘Most dangerous asset’ just didn’t sit right with you. It never sounded great when Natasha was considered to be the most dangerous without some sort of serum or a suit of any kind because Natasha is a sweetheart, she’s your best friend and you could never see her as dangerous, just as you could never see your self as dangerous. Your closeness with Natasha wasn’t because you two were considered dangerous, it was because of how similar you grew up and how you were trained.

When you were a child, you had always considered yourself to be a lover. Fighting was something you hated and you would always get in the middle of your siblings fights to scream and make some peace. You loved your family, your mom in particular and you were always by her side even when she told you to go away. She had always seemed stressed out but there were 2 years of your life where she was what you would have considered them beyond paranoid, but what you would consider now reasonably paranoid. Your family went into hiding and you weren’t ever allowed to leave your house that was boarded and locked from the inside out. Your family was always there, inside and fighting then one day, your family wasn’t there anymore. 

All you could remember were dark figures and never seeing home again. The people who had taken you were apart of the W.V.T Operative, properly known as ‘Waffe Von Tod’ which roughly translates to ‘Weapon of Death’. 

  You were their weapon of death. They abducted you, trained you, taught you, and when you didn’t comply with their orders, they would punish you. You weren’t the first they had tried to break. There were many before you but you were their greatest achievement. You were set out on missions, credited with over three dozen assassinations in just six years, and you were damn good at it but your compliance with their orders changed when they set you out on a mission to kill Bucky. You had heard his story and the moment you saw his face, his movements, and the obvious pain in his eyes, you lowered your weapon and approached him.

Your eyes lay still on the man you were sent to take out, his movements quick and his body language anxious. You caught a glimpse of his eyes and all that was there was pain and fear. Something that you saw every time you looked in a mirror. All that was running through your head was that this was a mission and you had to comply or else you would be tortured but you couldn’t bring yourself to take out your gun and get the job done and over with. 

The yelling in your mind was almost too much but you were tired of playing these games. You hated who you had become and what you were made out to be and you wanted to be different, even if it did mean putting your life on the line. You couldn’t kill him. He reminded you too much of yourself and you have done so much to keep yourself alive. 

You lowered your weapon and took off your mask before walking away from the broken window you were sat in front of. You walked down the abandoned stairwell and when you reached the bottom, you stood at the door leading out to your mission and wondered if this was truly worth it. You shook off those thoughts and opened the door, a loud creaking noise escaping from the hinges causing Bucky to jump up and whip around. You stood there, your eyes meeting his from far away and you did the only thing that you could think to do and put your hands up. 

“Bucky?” You called out to try and reassure your mind that it was, in fact, the person you were set out to kill standing in front of you as you walked closer.

“Who are you?” He asked, looking as if he were ready to run at any moment. 

“I’m Y/N and you have to listen to me or else both of us will be killed.” You said, now directly in front of him. His eyebrows furrowed together as a look of confusion washed over his face. Your eyes met his once again and you searched for trust in all of the pain and anger but couldn’t see past it. 

“You have to trust me.” You whispered, waiting for a response. 

“Why should I trust you?” He asked, his stance stiff and his breath rigid. 

“Because I was sent here to kill you,” You stated which caused an immediate reaction of him backing away but you grabbed his hands. “I’m not going to kill you!” You almost yelled, making Bucky stop and look at you.

“What?” He responded, sounding shocked almost. 

“Because you don’t deserve to die. Now listen to everything I am about to tell you and you will live but don’t and we both die. Got it?” You said letting go of his hands and sitting down on the bench he was previously sat at.

     After that mission and after you had helped him get out alive, you set out on your own mission. Kill every W.V.T agent walking this earth and you did for the most part. After you had completed your mission, you tried to find ways to build up a life for yourself which ended up with you living in a one-bedroom apartment with a mold problem. You had lived there and worked three horrible jobs for about two months before Nick Fury showed up at your door one day. You didn’t know how he found you considering your identity was wiped and you created a new one for yourself, but he did and that’s how you were recruited to the Avengers and met your best friend and reunited with the man you saved.

     You’d been living with and going on missions with the Avengers for almost a year now and since you started, your relationship with Bucky had always been odd. Even though you weren’t asking for any special treatment for saving his life, it would be nice if he would acknowledge you more often when you weren’t on missions. 

You entered your room, shutting the door before changing into your pajamas and walking to your bed turning on the television that sat parallel to you. Going to Netflix, you picked the show you were currently binging and got under the covers. 

Two episodes had passed and you decided that you were hungry so you paused the show and threw your legs over your mattress standing up. Before exiting your room you checked the time which read 11:47 PM which meant everyone should be asleep for the night so you were careful not to make any loud noises. You walked into the hallway, the cold night air making you shiver. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt with loose pajama shorts underneath and you regretted not bringing your blanket as you shivered, crossing your arms over your chest.

Walking into the kitchen, you hummed an absent tune, words leaving your lips when you could remember which ones to say. You looked through the fridge but all you could find were vegetables and healthy foods when you really just wanted junk. Closing the fridge, you turned to go to the pantry on the other side of the wall but saw a dark figure sitting at the table causing you to jump. You switched on the light and saw Bucky sitting there with a book in front of him. 

“Bucky what the hell are you doing? You scared the shit out of me!” You asked holding your hand up to your heart.

“I was reading.”

“In the dark?” 

“Super soldier serum doll.” Bucky said in a soft tone making your heart flutter. Whenever you had any interaction, he would call you Doll and you tried to convince yourself that it was something he called all of the girls he encounters, but you have yet to hear him call Nat or Wanda Doll in any situation.

“Steve can’t see in the dark.” You retaliated, sitting down across from him.

“Yes, he can.” 

“Since when?”

“Since 1941.” 

“Oh.” Was all you could say before looking down at the table, earning a small laugh from Bucky.

“So,” You said carrying out the vowel, “Whatcha reading?” You asked him, reaching across the table and grabbing the book from him. You flipped it over and the title read ‘Gardening Secrets’.

“Gardening Secrets? Do you like to garden?” You asked, handing the book back to Bucky who had a flushed look on his face.

“Uh well I don’t really do it but it seems interesting.” He stammered, an apparent blush rising to his face.

“I love gardening! I could help you start if you would like? And Ms.Potts is an avid gardener too, I’m sure you could ask her questions if need be.” You said excitedly causing Bucky’s worried expression to disappear. 

“Really? You’d do that? You don’t think it’s weird?” He asked you, his voice still soft and his eyes big and full of hope instead of worry, confusion, or pain.

“Of course Bucky! And no I don’t think it’s weird, gardening can be very therapeutic because it’s like you’re responsible for life. You helped create and sustain that life and it makes you feel needed. Wanted even. That’s what it did for me at least.” You trailed off, meeting Bucky’s eyes with your own to find he was already looking at you.

“Did you not feel wanted or needed before?” He asked, worry taking over his eyes once again.

“Not really,” You replied with a sigh, “I just felt more so an accessory to win.” 

“Without you, I would be dead y/n.”

“I know, I know but if my emotions hadn’t taken over you would also be dead because of me so I think that cancels out.”

“Still, you’re needed and wanted by us more than you know doll.” Bucky said, his voice smooth and sweet. You looked up into his eyes and smiled softly, a smile which he returned making your heart skip a beat. Bucky didn’t really smile much so to think you were the reason for this one made you blush.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You said quietly. This was the most you two had spoken since you helped him escape the rampage W.V.T had staged in case he tried to get away from you and all you’ve wanted to do is talk to him and feel him, really feel him. His presence, his touch, his words, but he never seemed open to a conversation that wasn’t work-related. His eyes would always dart away from you and he would never be in the same room as you for longer than he had to be. All that you had to cling onto was his constant need to address you as “Doll”. 

Before your missions with W.V.T, it was your job to study the person you were sent after as closely as you could. Sometimes that would mean book work but most times it would mean following that person around for weeks at a time to study their routine, their movements, what made them jump, what made them relax, and that was the part of the job you dreaded more than killing. It made you feel more empathy than you ever thought you could because with doing that, you would realize that they are human just like you. Granted most of the missions were to kill criminals and enemies, there were the few that didn’t deserve to die and Bucky was one of them. You followed him around for two weeks, watching him, studying him and after the first day, you knew you couldn’t do what you were sent to do. You spent those two weeks in a battle with your humanity and your willingness to comply and in the end, your humanity won once and for all.

A small smile spread across Bucky’s face as you readjusted yourself in your seat. 

“So besides not feeling wanted or needed, why have we never had an actual conversation?” You asked, holding your chin in your hands, elbows propped up on the table. Bucky’s eyebrows raised as he opened his mouth to speak.

“We’ve had conversations!” He responded.

“We’ve had small words exchanged, mission talks, and me giving you instructions to save both of our lives.”

Bucky was silent for a minute, looking down his brows furrowing, he began to answer,

“I just-” He started, “I just never thought you would want to speak to me s’ all.” 

“And why is that?”

“Well for starters Doll, you were sent to kill me.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, throwing a crumb of something at him, “That’s not fair and plus I didn’t kill you because I liked you so much.” You sassed back at him.

“I was only kidding!” He said, laughing a bit which was honest to everything the most beautiful sound.

“On the contrary to me almost killing you and all, I really do want to talk with you more, you’re fun to talk to.” You said to Bucky, smiling a tiny bit.

“I’d like that Doll.” He said softly, returning the smile. Your eyes met before you stood up, stretching.

“Well Mr.Barnes, I am going to go to bed so I’ll leave you and your book.” You said, grabbing a bag of chips out of the pantry. Walking into the hallway you turned around to look at the man,

“Goodnight Bucky.”

“Goodnight Doll.” He said and for once, his eyes showed something that wasn’t pain or worry, but something good that you couldn’t quite place. You smiled sweetly at him before turning and walking back to your room, feeling his eyes follow you until you were out of sight. 

Entering your room, all you could feel were butterflies in your stomach and a smile creeping across your face. 

What was this man doing to you?

Criticism is welcome!!! Sorry again this was really bad but pt2 is coming soon!

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #Avengers #avengers imagine #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #natasha romanoff #tony stark #wanda maximoff #bucky x reader

[ma-sulevin]

Things? Are happening?

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 6269, chapter six of thirteen (probably).

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

—

“I got a sneakin’ suspicion,” Sharky says as they walk into the main intersection of Fall’s End to find it absolutely abandoned, “that the peggies ain’t takin’ too kindly to our escapades.”

Mattie makes a little humming noise as she looks at someone’s empty dresser at the corner. “What gives you that idea, Shark?”

He clutches his shotgun a little tighter, keeps swiveling his head back and forth to see what’s waiting for them. With the way Boomer’s trotting happily between them, though, Mattie knows there aren’t any peggies nearby.

“Just a wild guess,” he mutters, and moves in a little closer.

The only building in Fall’s End that looks like it has people inside is the church, and that’s only because John’s really fucked it up. Mattie and Sharky stand on the other side of the street and stare at everything: the bliss flowers, the arch, the crows nailed to the siding, the literal red carpet that John’s rolled out for her.

“Yeah, that’s real creepy,” Sharky says. “Told you John wants to fuck you.”

Mattie elbows him instead of responding, but she has to admit the decorations make the church look a little… matrimonial. 

Finally, she draws in a deep steadying breath. “Fortunately, he’s not on my to-fuck list,” she says, and then she forces out the rest of her thought before Sharky can ask who is on the list, because that’s not really something she’s ready to think about when facing a recaptured Fall’s End and a church full of hostages. “Stay out here, stay hidden, and if you see anything weird or hear anything weird, call for backup, okay?”

“Dep, I don’t--”

“I know you don’t want to wait, but I need you to be able to call for help.” She turns to him, tugs on his sleeve a little. “Can I count on you?”

He sighs, he fidgets, he looks away, and then finally he sighs again and makes eye contact. “You can count on me. Just… just be safe, okay?”

She winks at him with levity she doesn’t feel. “Always.”

They bump fists once before she squares her shoulders and passes under the arch to get to the church. She can hear low murmuring inside, but she’s still surprised when she pulls the door open and a peggie slams the butt of his rifle into her forehead.

---

It says something about how much Hope County has changed over the last few weeks that hunting a human man across the mountain doesn’t feel wrong. Instead, she’s painfully calm, laser-focused on finding John before he can regain consciousness and run back to Joseph.

She saw him jump out of his plane just before she jumped from hers. She saw Nick make one last strafing run, aiming bullets from Carmina toward his already limp body and his parachute. She doesn’t blame Nick for that, not after what happened in the church, not after all the bad blood between John and Nick specifically, and really it means her next step should be a little easier.

When she finally finds John, the front of her tank and the remains of her flannel stained with blood from her angry WRATH tattoo, he’s still stubbornly trying to get away even though his injuries are almost overwhelming him. His coat with the little planes is torn, covered in blood and mud and who knows what else, and the sight is enough to make her pause when he looks up at her.

“It isn’t too late,” he says, trying to charm her until the end. “You can still say Yes, save yourself, come with us into Eden’s Gate.”

He coughs, and it’s bloody. He wipes at his lips and slips in the mud, landing hard on his hip as his feet slide out from under him. He groans and doesn’t try to get up, just takes deep, rasping breaths.

She holsters her pistol and walks over to kneel at his side. He blinks at her, hands in his lap, and she sighs, her Wrath warring with pity at his obvious pain.

“It’s not too late for you ,” she says, finally, not really believing the words or thinking he’ll accept them, but she makes the offer anyway. “I can take you to town, get you medical care. You’ll be under arrest, but it’ll save your life.”

He laughs at her, a full laugh, and sprays blood into the air when it fades off into another wet cough. “You say you want to save my life, but you would damn it at the same time. What if Joseph is right? Did you ever stop to think about that? Everyone thinks he’s crazy, but he’s not.”

Okay. Well. She gave him a chance.

She loses patience, that little blossom of pity finally choked out by her blooming anger, and she reaches out to grab for his key anyway. He grabs her wrist once her fingers are around it, holding on with enough strength to bruise if she pulls away too hard.

They’re at a stalemate. She won’t let go of the key; he won’t let go of her.

“Look around you. This world is on the brink. You can feel it in your bones. Look at the headlines! Look who’s in charge!” He laughs again, coughs, then somehow tightens his grip even more. “You want this key because you think you’re saving people, but they are already safe. We had a plan .”

His breath catches in his throat, his eyebrows drawing together, and even this close and with him this hurt, she can’t tell how much is him being serious and how much is him acting to draw her in. She pulls him closer with the key and puts her free hand on his cheek without thinking about it, not sure what to do when he leans into the touch.

“You don’t understand. You don’t believe! You don’t care! ” He pushes her away with both hands, and she slips in the mud and falls to a seat next to him.

The cord holding the key around his neck breaks, and the only thing holding them together is his death grip on her wrist.

She bares her teeth to him, the instinctive warning sign of her anger that she doesn’t know how to stop.

He doesn’t care. He just takes another rattling breath, and this close she can see his eyes starting to lose their focus. He’s not quite looking at her anymore; he’s almost looking through her when he says, “May God have mercy on your soul.”

His hand on her wrist goes slack; his fingers slip away and he falls to the side, breathless, lifeless, empty before her as though he never had any life in him at all.

She pushes two fingers against his still-warm skin, expertly searching for a pulse.

She doesn’t find one.

He’s gone.

She could -- she should, according to the law and her training and the gut instinct that drove her to become an EMT and then a police officer -- perform CPR, radio for help, get his heart beating, save his life, make him answer for his crimes. Her eyes prick, burn with unshed tears that she refuses to let escape. She will not cry over this man.

He doesn’t deserve her tears. He doesn’t deserve her pity or her grief.

She has the key. She needs to get Joey.

Her hands are shaking when she pulls her radio to her mouth, her voice steady as she says, “You still up there, Nick? Have time for one more run with me? Over.”

It only takes a moment for his voice to come back. “ Just tell me where. Over. ”

---

Sneaking into John’s bunker is easier than sneaking out of it. She still gets horribly turned around and dies three times, all in different spots, and it’s not until she’s made it into the bowels of the bunker where someone (she assumes John) has corpses strung up and turned into gruesome sculptures like he watched one too many episodes of the Hannibal TV series and decided that was the kind of aesthetic he needed in his bunker that she finds what she’s looking for.

Joey Hudson, Hope County native, Mattie’s supervising officer and friend… already free, moving under her own power, and trying to gut Mattie with a knife probably liberated from the first peggie who got too close to her.

If she wasn’t afraid for her life, she’d be so proud.

They struggle, Mattie simply trying to keep the knife away from her skin, not even attempting to disarm Joey in case that made her lose it even more. How long has she been down here, killing peggies one at a time as they got too close? Running on adrenaline and nothing else, praying for John to come back so she could slit his throat?

Mattie manages to gasp out Joey’s name, one more time, and that seems like enough to pull her attention back to the present, to Rook’s ruined flannel, to her face , and the fight just wilts out of her.

“Rook? It’s you? Oh, God...” Joey sits back, already starting to shake, and Mattie follows her to take the knife away. “I didn’t think you’d come back,” she says, voice shaking, and just that is enough to make exhausted tears come to Mattie’s eyes.

“Oh, Jo…” Mattie reaches out, following her instinctual need to pull Joey into her arms, but Joey flinches away.

“Something started happening ,” she says instead, bracing her hands against the metal floor like she’s going to push herself to her feet. “All the, all the fucking peggies started scrambling around, all the doors started closing and locking us inside,” she gasps for breath, the terror flooding back to her like it’s still happening and she’s not on the verge of freedom. “I thought I was gonna be down here forever…”

She gasps again and a tear slips free despite her obvious effort to hold it in, and Mattie reaches out for her again, tears of sympathy and rage and guilt welling in her own eyes. Joey allows the contact for as long as it takes her to catch her breath, just a moment before she pulls away and uses Mattie’s shoulder to push herself up to a standing position.

Mattie follows, hands out to catch Joey in case she trips, but Joey shakes off that attention too.

“It’s all because of him ,” Joey says, voice trembling but this time in rage instead of fear. She points her knife at one of the portraits -- honest to God portraits -- of Joseph that dot the bunker, this one in the lap of a dead peggie. “That fucking, that fucking piece of shit !” 

Mattie has to cover her mouth to stop from crying out when Joey picks the portrait up and slams it into the floor, shattering the glass with a grunt of effort. She can’t stop the tears that come from seeing her friend so hurt, can’t stop the flinch that shakes her whole body when Joey falls to her knees by the broken frame.

“He would come down here, and he would just stand there and watch.” Joey’s voice breaks, and she shakes her head a little as if to clear it as Mattie forces herself closer, hand dropping to her side and a deep discomfort radiating from her chest. She wants to gather Joey up in her arms, but that’s not what she needs right now.

She just needs Mattie to listen.

“We were begging for mercy,” she says, glancing up at Mattie as her voice breaks again -- not into tears this time, but into laughter, “and he would just fucking watch.”

She laughs until the laughter turns into a sob, and she shoves the portrait away. Mattie tries once more to comfort, putting her hand on Joey’s shoulder, and this time… it seems to finally work. Joey takes a steadying breath, pulling her emotions back in check with the same determination that makes her such a good deputy, and starts to push herself upright.

“The others… there were other people down here with me. We’re going to get them out.”

She’s so strong, so fierce, and Mattie remembers the woman she met on her first official day with the department, the woman who had teased her and made fun of Staci and offered to take the lead on Mattie’s training since Mattie should learn from a real cop.

Mattie finds herself nodding, because she can’t say no.

---

Mattie slips away from the party as soon as she can, a little buzzed, sore all over, the memory of how far gone Joey was rattling unpleasantly in the back of her skull. The music is loud, but the cold night air dulls it as the door to the Spread Eagle swings shut behind her. She exhales sharply and rests her beer bottle on the porch railing while she pats her pockets down for a cigarette.

“I got you, chica.”

Sharky appears at her side, grim faced, a fresh pack in his outstretched hand. She swipes it from him and leans against his side as she pulls the cellophane off and waits, trusting, for his lighter to appear in front of her. Tears fill her eyes when it does, and she blinks hard to send them away.

This is a time for celebration, not for tears.

“What number you up to now?” He holds her left wrist in one hand and pushes at her long sleeve with the other, trying to expose enough of her skin to see how many black marks now mar it. 

She allows the touch even though she knows he has no chance of seeing enough, enjoying his warm, dry hands on her skin. She wants to sink into the touch, let it consume her, warm her all over so she can think about something other than the shit show that is Hope County. She takes a deep drag on her cigarette instead, then turns her head to the side to exhale two lungfuls of smoke and poison.

“An even forty.”

He stops pushing at her sleeve and just holds her instead, waiting until she looks up at him. He's already staring at her, eyes boring into her soul, and she falls silent and still under his gaze.

He sighs. He doesn't like whatever he sees. “C’mon, there's a fire over here’ll warm you up.” He turns but doesn't release her as he starts to move, dragging her through the cheery streets of Falls End. Everyone is out celebrating, and here she is letting Sharky boss her around because she can't bear the happiness for another second.

True to Sharky's word, there is a small (and actually fairly well contained) fire in the backyard of an empty house. There are two chairs facing the flames, a cooler between them. Her breath catches in her throat -- he planned this.

He set this up; he started the fire, he found and moved the chairs, he filled the cooler… He found a fresh pack of cigarettes because he knew she'd be out and would want one after everything, even though she's constantly complaining about her own bad habit.

He releases her wrist and sits in one of the chairs, and she floats along behind him and sits in the other. She can't feel the cold of the night air, just the warmth of the fire and the warmth of his gaze on her face.

“You do all this for me, Boshaw?”

He ducks his head as he's digging through the cooler, embarrassed, and doesn't quite meet her eyes when he hands her a beer. “I just thought you'd like some peace’n quiet. You're, uh, you're kind of my best friend. You're doing all this for all of us, and someone has to look out for you too.”

It's too much. It's too much. She can't handle this.

“You're still gonna be my friend after all this, right? It was kinda lonely without you.”

Okay. Okay. This is enough.

She puts her unopened beer on the ground and flicks her half-smoked cigarette into the fire. Sharky lifts his brows at her, but doesn't have time to say another word before she climbs into his lap and presses her lips to his.

He gasps and grabs for her waist as his lips part, and she matches his expression by opening her lips too. She sinks into him, into his warmth and gentle caresses, so at odds with how he faces every other situation. He slides his hands up her back, tickling her spine, until he can bury his fingers in her hair. 

He pulls her away, just enough to break their kiss, and she rests her forehead against his. She rests her hands on his shoulders, fingers slowly curling into the soft material of his hoodie.

“You… uh, you feelin’ okay?” His voice is low and hoarse, and she shivers before she can repress the urge.

“Mhm…” She trails off and sits up, but she doesn’t let go of his hoodie. “I just… you’re so sweet, Sharky, and I…” She bites her lip, suddenly uncertain even though he’s still holding her just as tight as he was when she climbed in his lap. “I couldn’t not kiss you.”

He’s staring at her lips. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Okay. Why, uh, why though?” 

She licks her lips and he tightens his grip on her hair, just a bit, like he can't help it. “I wanted to.”

He blinks and looks back up at her eyes, and her breath catches in her throat when she sees the firelight dancing orange across his skin. 

“You did?”

“Yeah. I mean, I do .” She releases his hoodie and slides her hands up to cup his jaw. Her fingers rasp through his days-old stubble and tilt his neck up just a little. “You're great, Sharky. You care about me so goddamn much, and I…” She barely stops herself from saying too much, from scaring him with how deep her affections are already running, how fast she’s fallen in love. “Can I kiss you more?”

He nods, fast, like he's not sure if she’s going to change her mind or not, and then she’s kissing him again and it feels so good she's not sure what to do with herself besides lean into it.

It’s everything she could have asked for, better than she ever expected it to be. His body is warm against hers, his kisses eager, his tongue almost delicate where it brushes against hers. She leans into him, settles more heavily into his lap, and he moves his hands down her back to her hips and back up, slow soothing motions that make her melt.

He's holding her like she's the most precious thing he's ever touched, even when she weaves her fingers through his hair and tugs. He moans, a quiet wounded noise into her mouth that she happily swallows, and then she pulls away just enough to slip her hands under his hoodie so she can touch his warm skin.

It feels right, being curled up around him, the heat of him against her front contrasting with the heat of the fire against her back. His goatee scratches her chin, his callouses tickle her waist as he mirrors her and slips his hands under her shirt. She moans into his mouth and he echoes her, a feedback loop of pleasure building between them until she has to tear her mouth free to catch her breath.

Sharky doesn’t let her go far, pulling her hips closer to his and moving his mouth across her jaw and down her neck. He catches her skin with his teeth, tugging with just the barest of pressure before moving on to the next spot, smiling against her when she squirms in his grip and lets out a too-loud moan.

He kisses back up to her ear, licks the spot just underneath it, tries to whisper without really lowering his voice at all, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. I’ve been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” He nips at her earlobe, tugs a little, groaning right back at her when she shivers.

“Really? Weeks?” The arms of the chair are pinching her knees, making her thighs hurt, but she moves her fingers up to tangle in his hair. She tugs, too hard, and his hips fruitlessly jerk up into hers when she pulls his face away so she can see him. Interesting. “We’ve only been hanging out for weeks .”

He shrugs and grins at her, smile lopsided and beautiful. There’s no embarrassment in his gaze. “I guess I just know what I like.” He tries to kiss her again, but she won’t let him move. He shivers and bites his lower lip, and she smiles.

She can work with that.

“And what do you like?”

He doesn’t hesitate, the truth slipping from his lips with ease. “You.”

She can’t stop herself from kissing him again, and she doesn’t want to. He wraps both his arms around her, holding her close as his tongue slides against hers, the kiss deep and wet and intimate. He holds her as tight as she’s holding him, gives as good as he gets, until she feels like she’s going to die if she doesn’t feel his skin against hers.

“Sharky, do you, mphm-- ” He kisses her again mid-sentence, cutting her off, and she laughs against his mouth, too delighted to remember anything else. “C’mon, baby. Where are you staying in town?”

He groans and nuzzles against her neck, unwilling at first to break away to answer her, but finally he sits back and takes a deep breath of the crisp night air. “There’s, uh, there’s some empty houses around the corner? I put our stuff in one of them.”

“Want to show me?”

He nods, then, and she pushes herself off of him, grunting when her legs unfold from under her weight. She picks up the cooler of beer and waits until he stands too, trying and failing to hide her smirk when he carefully shifts his weight from side to side and tucks one hand into the deep pocket of his jeans to adjust his erection.

She slips her hand into his free one before he can get embarrassed, chewing on the inside of her lip as she waits for him to lead her in the right direction. He does, but not before leaning down to grab one more kiss from her. He’s not so tall that she has to reach up on her tiptoes, but she does have to tilt her neck back to get the angle right; she’s suddenly sure, standing here in the middle of Fall’s End, that she should have started kissing him when they were still in the Henbane, back when he sat on the floor and held her hand while she cried in her sleep.

He pulls away when he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing, tightens his hold on her hand like he’s afraid she’s going to change her mind before they make it to the house he’s claimed on the edge of town. She vaguely remembers the family who used to live here, good people she hopes made it out of the county before everything went to shit, but she tries not to think about them as she leaves the cooler on their kitchen counter and lets Sharky pull her up a winding and narrow set of stairs to get to the upper floor.

The lights are already on like Sharky’s been here and left, and she has enough time to notice old sheets in the corner and fresh ones on the bed before Sharky pulls her close and tilts her face up to his with her jaw in his hand. She smiles up at him, slipping her free hand under his hoodie to press against the warmth of his stomach. He twitches under her touch, flexing a little, and her smile grows.

“Were you, uh, hoping for something here?” She’s teasing, she always teases, but he just glances over her shoulder at the bed before his cheeks flare red. 

“No, uh, this was for you? I was gonna sleep down the hall. Just thought you deserved somethin’ nice after everything. You know -- a good fire, cold beer, clean sheets? A night of peace finally.”

Her breath catches in her throat and tears prick at her eyes again, just like they did when they were still outside, and she steps away before she can stop herself. She can’t handle this much affection right now; it threatens to overwhelm her, pull her good mood down into tears.

She pulls at the hem of his hoodie instead, pulling it up. “Take this off,” she says, voice rough, and he obeys without question.

By the time he’s dropping it on the floor, she’s out of her flannel and tank, standing before him in just a bra and jeans, but he stares back at her like she’s hung the moon. It makes her want to climb inside of him, to consume whatever’s making him look like that.

Instead, she shoves him backwards toward the bed, smiling when he drops on the mattress with a soft thump. She crawls over him, pushing him until he’s flat on his back with his hands on her bare waist and his mouth attached to her neck like he’s never going to let her go. 

She doesn’t want him to.

She moans and arches into his touch, leaning her head back and vaguely hoping he doesn’t leave a hickey even though she doesn’t particularly care, not when his big hands are sliding down her hips and under the waist of her jeans. He’s warm against her, stoking her own fire hotter, and she reaches behind her to undo the clasp of her bra with just a flick of her wrist. She pulls it free and drops it off the side of the bed, but the movement only serves to catch Sharky’s attention.

He releases her neck -- and, yeah, she’s definitely going to have a mark there, but who does she have to look professional for these days? -- and hauls her up his body so he can kiss farther down her chest and take her right nipple in his mouth. The movement pulls at the fresh tattoo on her chest, the wounds that are just scabbed over and definitely going to scar into something ugly, but it’s like Sharky can’t even see it. She ignores the pain and closes her eyes, focusing on the good she can feel, the way he’s making her forget every fucking thing she’s been through since the helicopter crash.

He teases her with the same enthusiasm he uses for everything else, surprising a cry out of her that he eagerly returns against her skin. She threads her fingers into his hair and holds on tight enough to hurt him, holding his face against her chest like anything short of a gun to his head would make him pull away now.

He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he pushes closer, sitting up and switching from her left breast to her right, paying that nipple the same dedicated attention he had the first one. It’s overwhelming; she aches to have him inside of her, and when she settles her weight against the hardness she can feel still trapped in his jeans, he moans brokenly and moves to capture her lips with his.

This kiss is messy, rough. She bites at him and he bites at her in return, the sharp pricks of pain muddling her brain until she can’t think about anything else, but that’s just the way she wants it. 

She yanks the ratty old tanktop he’s still wearing up, stretching it almost to the point of tearing, releasing it only when he finally leans back and pulls it fully off. She pushes him back down onto his back when she has room to move, scooting back to sit on his thighs so she can pry his belt open and try to shimmy his jeans down before he latches his teeth back into her skin.

He’s still wearing his boots, so he has to pull away to undress himself. Again, she takes advantage of this and shucks off her jeans and boots too, self conscious, just for a second, that she hasn’t had time to take care of her body the way she always has. She starts to blush, to cover herself, suddenly back in her head and keenly aware of how her first boyfriend had insisted she stay shaved if they were going to have sex, but Sharky…

Sharky’s eyes are dark and his cheeks are pink and his cock is standing proud and hard between his thighs. He’s hairy too, across his chest and a thin trail down his stomach that thickens at the base of his cock. He’s staring at her, one hand wrapping around himself, the other reaching out until she moves back into his space on the bed.

“Do you know how fuckin’ hot you are?” His voice is low, rough, and she shivers as his calloused fingers skim her waist. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” His hand moves steadily higher, cupping her breast as he adds, almost like he’s accidentally voicing a thought, “Is this a Bliss dream, or what?”

She answers by capturing his lips with hers, biting again, one hand steadying herself on his waist as the other wraps around his cock. He groans into her, both hands moving to cup her jaw, a heady kind of desperation in his clutching fingers.

He stops kissing her and just rests his forehead against hers as she pumps him, steady movements and a firm grip making him shudder and twitch against her. 

“Please,” she rasps, “ please tell me you have a condom.”

It takes him a minute to answer, but his words are like music to her ears. “There are, uh, actually some in the bathroom. Guess they didn’t make the emergency packing list.”

Relief flows through her even as she traces the tips of her fingers over the tip of his cock, a teasing touch over silky skin and beading precome. He groans deep in his throat, holding her almost too tight against the teasing pleasure of her skin against his, and it takes him several full seconds to realize she’s trying to get him to move when she says, “Go get one, then.”

When her words sink in, he practically throws her off him and onto the mattress so he can scramble past her out into the hall. She laughs, delighted at his enthusiasm, and stretches out on the sheets with her head on the pillow. It smells of unfamiliar detergent, but it’s the cleanest thing she’s slept on in days.

She stretches out on the clean sheets, joints popping as she forces them to their limits, and then she relaxes with her hands above her head and her lower lip captured between her teeth. She can hear Sharky bumping around the bathroom, each of his movements too loud and enthusiastic to be confined indoors, and she smiles.

Under any other circumstances, she would have laughed at the idea of her and Charlemagne Boshaw spending any time together at all, much less sneaking away from a town celebration to have sex. Everything else just adds to the uniqueness she’s facing -- where would she be if she hadn’t tried to arrest Joseph in the church? Where would she be if she had stayed dead any of the times she should have stayed dead?

Sharky comes back before she can get stuck in that line of thought, snapping her back to the present moment with a wolf whistle and the shuffle of foil-wrapped condoms shuffling around in a half-empty box. 

Her eyes open and she smiles at him, considering for half a second before she draws herself up on her knees to reach for him. He lets her direct him to sit against the headboard, lets her take the condoms from him, opens a package and rolls one on when she hands it to him while she leans in and bites at his neck.

She doesn’t wait one second longer than necessary before she moves over him, bracing her knees on either side of his hips and holding onto his shoulders to steady herself as she begins to lower herself down. He works with her, one hand on her waist, the other holding himself steady, and then… he’s inside of her, inching slowly deeper, stretching her and filling her and she really can’t remember what took her so long to kiss him.

“ Holy shit, Mat.” Sharky draws out the holy until he bottoms out, then the rest of his words come out of him in a rush. His fingertips dig into the flesh of her hips, holding her still. His eyes are squeezed shut, deepening the lines around them, and she brushes her fingertips over the lines until he relaxes.

He opens his eyes and meets her gaze, giving her a wide, dopey smile. Their lips meet again, gently, though she’s not sure which of them leaned forward first, then they rest their foreheads together with twin smiles.

“Good?” She clenches around him on purpose, just to make him moan when he starts to answer.

“Fuck. Yeah. Oh my God, yes.” His fingers tighten on her hips, urging her up just enough to catch her attention. “Shit. Can you, uh, can you just…”

He trails off as she starts to move, pushing herself up higher on her knees until he’s barely inside her still, then sliding back down at the same painfully slow pace as before. Sharky groans and tilts his head back against the headboard, flexing into her like he can’t help it but not doing anything to actually make her move faster. He just waits, desperate little wimpers leaving him with each slow movement of her hips.

She clutches the headboard with both hands, using it as leverage to help her move faster against him, her movements more sure. Each drag of his cock against her makes her ratchet higher, goosebumps breaking out on her skin even as sweat gathers on her scalp, behind her knees. 

Sharky opens his eyes and stares up at her, that beautiful blue dark and hungry. He slides his hands up her side as she rides him, fingers seeking out her breasts once more. He squeezes as her long thrusts turn to hard twists of her hips, grinding her clit against his pelvis and sending sparks of pleasure up her spine.

She closes her eyes first this time, overwhelmed as his rough fingers press against her nipples with more gentleness than she would have expected when they first met. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and her rhythm stutters as she begins to come.

“Fuck, Sharky, I’m…” She trails off, grabbing for his head to bring his face against hers so she can kiss him, whining the rest of her cry into his mouth. He surges forward, tongue against hers and hands back on her hips to keep her moving against him even as she shakes and forgets everything except the feeling of him against her, inside her.

He breaks their kiss and presses his face to her throat instead, growling against her skin, goatee scratching over where the bruise he left behind is still darkening. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, clutching him tight, holding him against her as he shudders through his own orgasm. 

He doesn’t let go of her and she doesn’t let go of him. They cling together as they catch their breath, then Sharky’s kissing up her neck and across her jaw to her lips.

She laughs against him, loose, happy. This is exactly what she needed, and she wants to tell him how much she appreciates him, how good he’s been to her, how much she needs him now.

What comes out of her mouth, still pressed against his, is, “I love you.”

Sharky laughs, a low rumble, and shakes his head. “What? Nah.”

She pulls back enough to grab his jaw, holding his face still to look in his eyes. His face is flushed, his hair mussed, his eyes bright, and this time it looks like he believes her when she repeats, “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

It takes another second, but his smile widens until it’s blinding. “Aw, hell, Mat. I love you too.”

He kisses her again, softer, reverent, and then she has to physically push him away to give herself enough freedom to climb off of him and go clean up. She hears his heavy footsteps pass by the door, then back again a minute later, and he’s stretched out in the bed with the lights off when she makes it back to him.

She climbs in next to him, shivering a little in the autumn chill, and he pulls her body flush against his. This is better than the times they’ve fallen asleep together before, because this time they’re resting skin to skin and she can feel his heartbeat quickening as she traces her fingers up and down his side. He also has his face pressed against her hair, a smile on his lips, and she thinks she hears him repeat I love you as she’s drifting off to sleep.

#sharky boshaw #sharky x deputy #far cry 5 #oc: mattie covington #my writing

[pasteljooonie]

forty

The next morning Yoongi woke up alone. "Jimin?" He mumbled weakly, refusing to open his eyes as he patted the bed, but found it empty. "Chim?" He asked louder now, forcing his eyes open and frowning when he saw bedsheets bunched where Jimin should've been.

Yoongi groaned as he sat up slowly, blinking as he glanced around the room, the bathroom door was open, so he knew he wasn't in there. Sighing, he stood up, sliding his clothes on slowly and opening Jimin's bedroom door, he stepped into the hallway before stopping suddenly, he heard Jimin's laugh from the kitchen, and glanced to his left and right. Roommates. Yoongi cringed as he heard a second voice, Hoseok and Jungkook, the two people that hated him more than he hated himself. He contemplated his options, Jimin lived on the third story, so jumping out wasn't an option, the front door was right next to the kitchen, he couldn't sneak out, he was stuck. Feeling eyes on him he looked up suddenly, his eyes meeting Jungkook as the younger boy scrutinized him before rolling his eyes. "Sleeping beauty's awake." He announced, before turning and walking out of Yoongi's sight.

Yoongi stuffed his hands into his pockets awkwardly and walked down the hallway, his shoulders hunched, making himself smaller as he rounded the corner and saw Jimin smiling widely as he looked at him, Hoseok had occupied himself with his coffee cup. "Hi." Jimin smiled, pulling Yoongi to him, and kissing him softly. "Hey." Yoongi mumbled, pulling away from the kiss and holding Jimin's hand, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles nervously as Jimin nodded, rubbing his arm reassuringly. "Breakfast will be ready in five." Hoseok announced, turning his back to the two of them and back to the stove. Jimin smiled reassuringly at Yoongi and pulled him towards the table. "Would it be rude to stay, or rude to leave?" Yoongi whispered hastily, "rude to leave." He replied, pulling the two of them into chairs. "Fuck." Yoongi cursed, looking down at his lap as Jimin held his hand reassuringly.

"It'll be okay, we're all adults, we're all mature. Besides, I helped make the breakfast." He pouted, making Yoongi roll his eyes. "You don't cook." He reminded him, Jimin crosses his arms. "I cracked the eggs." He huffed, making Yoongi smile as he kissed his cheek softly. "I really feel like I should leave." He mumbled, resting his forehead on Jimin's shoulder as the younger boy ran his fingers through his hair, "everything will be fine. Progress has to start somewhere." He told him, making Yoongi sigh irritably, only to jump when he heard something get set down in front of Jimin, opening his eyes he watched Jungkook and Hoseok sit down across from the two of them as Jimin slid a plate of food in front of him. He should've just jumped out the window.

"So how's the album coming along?" Hoseok asked, looking at Jimin as the younger boy fell silent, Yoongi squeezed his hand reassuringly and he sighed. "It's great Hobi, how's yours?" He asked, watching Hoseok shrug. "It's fine, you know, about pain and love and shit, I'm sure you can relate Chim." He added the last part as he drank off of his coffee, Jimin flared at him and squeezed Yoongi's hand tightly. "Suga you're going on tour soon right?" Jungkook asked suddenly, making the older boy raise his head, startled as he glanced at Jimin, and swallowed thickly. "Um, yeah. Next month." He replied, squeezing Jimin's hand tighter as Jungkook nodded. "You going with him?" The question was directed at Jimin this time, he nodded in response. "My album will have just dropped, they want to give time before I tour for it, so I can join him for most of his until mine starts." Jimin replied, a small smile on his face as Jungkook nodded, going back to his food as Jimin let go of Yoongi's hand. "I'll be back." He said softly, kissing Yoongi's temple before leaving down the hall.

Yoongi stuffed his hands in his lap, staring down awkwardly as the tension filled the air. Yoongi sighed softly, knowing he couldn't just sit there, he took one last breath before finally raising his head, getting the younger boy's attentions. "I'm sorry." He said softly, watching Hoseok set down his fork and cross his arms as he watched him through scrutinizing eyes. "I know you hate me, trust me, I hate myself. I don't hold anything against you, you have every right to hate me. I know what I did to Jimin, and I know you were the ones that were there for him through it, and I'll forever be in debt to you for that. I never wanted to hurt Jimin, it hurt me in ways I couldn't comprehend knowing I was the reason behind his pain. I can't even fathom ever causing him that hurt again, or any hurt for that matter, he's my everything, I can't even imagine being without him anymore." He broke off, sighing as he scratched the back of his neck. "I know I have issues, a whole lot of them, and that's no excuse because I'm a grown man, and my issues should never hurt anyone else, I should've dealt with them a long time ago, but I never imagined having someone like Jimin in my life, I never imagined feeling this adoration towards anyone, and unfortunately I realized it too late. You have every right to hate me, but I want to make things better, I don't expect it to happen in a day, or even a week, but I want things to be okay, between us. Because he's the most important thing in my life, and he cares about you two so deeply, I hope one day we can reach a standing point, for his sake." He said softly, glancing wearily at the two younger boys, Hoseok's eyes were conflicted, and Jungkook's confused.

"I don't doubt your love for him Suga." Hoseok spoke, "like I don't doubt his love for you. I can see it, and I don't doubt that you didn't intend to hurt him." He sighed, "but that's not my issue. Jimin trusts too easily, and falls too damn fast. He's his own person, and he can take care of himself, but he fell for you since the moment he met you, and hurt himself by continuing to sleep with you, and that wasn't your fault, but that needs to open your eyes about how Jimin is. He puts himself through hell without batting an eye. He ran back into your arms after two months of continuous pain, just because you had a two hour talk and you took him to the pier. He let himself love you because you've been steady for two weeks. He trusts too easily." He explained, and Yoongi nodded, of course he'd noticed, Jimin forgave him faster than anyone else would've. "I don't like you. I probably won't for a while, not after what you did to him. But, I know you have good intentions. I know you love him, and want to continue loving him, but you need to fix yourself. Jimin is convinced he can help you, convinced he can make things better, but he can't. If all this locked away trauma is resurfacing, that's something only you can deal with. Not Jimin. Love him all you want, but get your shit together. If you're not ready for a relationship, or don't know how to have one, then leave Jimin out of it. I don't hate you, but I don't trust you to not hurt my best friend again." Yoongi nodded, Hoseok had every right to feel the way he did, but he couldn't deny that it stung.

"I wish the best for you Suga, and I'm sorry you had a past that was unkind to you, I truly hope that you can find yourself again, but until then, you need to tread lightly. You've got him in too deep now, any wrong step will only hurt him. I wish the best for you, but not if the best for you is the worst for him. Take care of yourself, and him. And if another episode happens, and it hurts Jimin, I'll cut your dick off." He stopped talking and grabbed his dishes, going to the sink and rinsing them off. Yoongi nodded his head and twisted his fingers. "Thank you. I promise, I'll never hurt him again." He said lowly, Hoseok didn't reply, and made his way to his room.

"I had to forgive you a while ago for the sanity of my own relationship." Jungkook told him, making Yoongi look up at him. "I still don't like the way you hurt my best friend, but I've moved on. I see how happy Jimin is when he's with you. Take care of him, that's all I ask." He said softly, before standing up and disposing of his things the same way Hoseok had, and going to his own room.

Jimin stepped out a minute later, a small smile on his face as he walked over to him, Yoongi sighed resting his forehead against his stomach. "A little more hostile than I planned, but progress." Jimin mumbled, running his fingers through Yoongi's hair as the older boy sighed. "I don't like that you heard him talking about you like that." He mumbled, running his hands along Jimin's back as the younger boy shrugged. "He's right, I once took back an ex seven times even after he kept cheating on me. I'm horrible with relationships." He laughed softly, Yoongi frowned and raised his head, pulling Jimin into his lap and hugging him tightly. "I don't understand how someone could cheat when they have the entire world in the palm of their hands." He mumbled, burying his nose in Jimin's neck as he held him close. "Well then you should know that I'll never be cheating." He replied, Yoongi rolled his eyes and huffed, kissing Jimin's neck softly. "I never want to lose you." He sighed, Jimin pulled away, holding his face in his hands as he kissed Yoongi softly. "You won't."

Description; Agust D is a world known rapper, and has gained fame quickly in the time span of two years, Jimin is a small known YouTube cover artist, and when Agust D sees one of his covers he gets interested in the boy, and decides he’s the one he wants. 40/75

#BTS Angst #BTS #Bangtan #BTS AU #BTS Fanfic #BTS Imagine #Yoongi #Seokjin #Jimin #Hoseok #Namjoon #Taehyung #Jungkook #Yoonmin AU #Yoonmin #Taekook #Namjin #Social Media AU #Social Media #NSAPJ

[xwaywardhuntress]

You’re Not From This World (Part Five)

Summary: Imagine the boys get sent to an alternate reality again without you, which leaves you stuck with the Winchester look-alikes, Jensen Ackles, and Jared Padalecki.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, Jensen Ackles x alternate world!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Both worlds POV

Words: 2000+

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is fanfiction only. Please do not redistribute my writings on other sites, horrible or not. Thanks!

Author’s Note: Soooooo I got sick starting Sunday, slept all day yesterday (Monday) and somehow surviving today (Tuesday) so far but here’s part 5! xD

Part One, Two, Three, Four

“Jens? Jared?” The female voice spoke.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean cursed throwing his hands up in the air.

Sam had been sitting on the floor. “Did he just-?”

“Yeah! He did! He sent the wrong two back!” Dean yelled.

The female voice spoke again. “Dean? Sam?”

The brothers turned to face the familiar voice finally. Sam smiled with his hand behind his head, “Hey Catherine, missed us?”

Everyone sighed. Back to square one.

The boys explained to Catherine what had happened after they all had come across the witch and then was sent back to their world, how they met their Y/N and Jensen and Jared. They also shared the actor’s actions that helped in somewhat taking the witch down. Ultimately, it was Catherine’s counterpart Y/N L/N that had killed the witch.

Catherine shared what had happened to her after the last time they had met and encountered the witch responsible for the switch. She explained she went back to her hotel room and had to take some time to grasp everything that had happened. She also tried covering for Jensen and Jared to the crew saying they weren’t feeling well after a dinner gone wrong. There was a mixture of worry and frustration after hearing the two main leads weren’t able to work.

Catherine had come onto the set to grab the scripts for the episodes she would be showing back up in, along with the scripts for Jensen and Jared. Before heading back, she had heard a noise on one of the empty sets and that’s when she came across them again hoping they had been Jensen and Jared.

 - - -

BAM!

Everyone in the room immediately turned in the direction of where the sound came from. It was Castiel who had shoved Remph against a wall. “Bring them back now.”

“D-didn’t they recently come from the other world?” The angel of time asked.

You stood up walking over to the two angels with your arms crossed.

“Yes.” Cas answered still holding Remph against the wall.

“T-they had strong energy from the other world? I-I don’t understand.” Remph responded in confusion.

You sighed, uncrossing your arms as you scratched your temple. “They did come from the other world more recently, BUT only after being sent to that other world by the witch that trapped you.” You placed your hand on Cas’s shoulder, letting him know to let the angel of time go.

Of course, an angel would confuse things.

Cas let go of Remph and pointed at Jensen and Jared, “Those two are the ones that belong in the other world. Now, bring Dean and Sam back.”

Remph looked over at the pair of actors. He stared at them for a while causing Jensen and Jared to feel a bit uncomfortable.

You cleared your throat. “Hello? Can you bring Dean and Sam back or what?”

Remph looked over at you, sensing that you were trying to keep your frustration contained for his sake, unlike the other angel in the room. “O-of course. I-I’m sorry. I-I see it now, their souls do not match this world’s and the energy from the other world is slowly fading the longer they stay here.”

“Just bring the other two back first, please.” You let out a breath of air.

“Y-Yes.” Remph closed his eyes. You could see his eyeballs moving behind his closed eyelids. And then they opened, “I-I cannot reach them.”

Now, this was the last straw, you marched up to the angel of time as you got into his face, Castiel immediately went to grab you to hold you back. “What do you mean you can’t reach them?! You just snapped them away earlier!”

“Y/N, stop…” Castiel warned.

“No! I am not stopping till he fixes this all! It’s all his fault this happened in the first place for probably shacking it up with a witch back in the day!” You yelled.

Remph backed away from you, feeling slightly threatened when he bumped into something behind him. It was Jensen and Jared.

“Can you just switch us out for Dean and Sam?” Jensen asked.

The angel of time nodded his head in agreement, afraid he would say the wrong thing that would make the situation worse for himself..

“No Jensen! Who knows if he’ll even switch you both out for Dean and Sam when he said he can’t even reach them!” You yelled again, Castiel successfully holding you back still.

“We’ll be fine, Y/N. We sort of trust him? Thank you for keeping us safe.” Jared looked over at you smiling.

“Yeah, thanks for everything.” Jensen smiled as well looking over at you.

Both of the actors looked at the angel of time, nodding that they were ready to be switched out. Remph placed his hands on their foreheads, closing his eyes once again.

You stopped struggling in Cas’s arms once you both saw a bright light illuminate, but as quickly as it came, it also quickly disappeared.

The two standing before Remph looked no different. Castiel let you go after realizing you were done fighting against him.

There was only one way to find out if the angel of time was successful. “Dean? Sam?”

You stared waiting for the response, hoping it was the brothers.

“Sorry, it’s still us. Jensen and I. I think, right Jens?” Jared answered with a sympathetic smile, looking over at his friend to confirm.

“That’s me.” Jensen sadly smiled over at Y/N.

You looked down on the ground, your hands turning into fists beside you. Damn angels could never get anything right, aside from Castiel. As you were about to make your way over to the angel of time to beat the crap out of him, you heard something hit the floor. You looked up.

It was Remph lying on the floor unconscious. Castiel had made it to the other angel’s side as the two actors squatted to check on the angel of time as well.

“What happened?” Your firsts loosen.

“It seems he has exhausted all his powers. Perhaps this is why he couldn’t switch them back or bring back Dean and Sam. He needs to rest.” Cas answered. “I will bring him back to the room from before.” And then your angel friend disappeared with the useless one.

Jensen made his way over to Y/N. He placed a hand on your shoulder, “Hey, like you told me before, everything will be okay. Jared and I will help you in getting Dean and Sam back.”

You sighed. This whole situation was beginning to tire and stress you out. At least Jensen looked like Dean, so his small pep talk helped you feel a little better.

“Jens is right. We’ll help in any way we can.” Jared came from behind Jensen with a supportive smile.

You forced a smile on your face in return, “Hopefully, we just need to wait till that damn angel of time wakes up.”

Castiel appeared beside you suddenly. “I have brought Remph to his room. I can keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t leave before he is able to bring back Dean and Sam.”

Y/N nodded her head. “Thanks Cas, I appreciate that.”

“Shall we start the fun-filled job of researching?” Jared chimed in with a smile.

You shook your head with a chuckle. “I guess so.”

“Topic - other worlds, alternate dimensions?” Jensen asked with a grin.

You nudged Jensen. He was surprised, but if he was honest with himself, he was starting to enjoy how comfortable you were with him. He only wished it could be the same with Cat. Maybe one day it could be, whenever he and Jared made it back to their world.

Jensen, Jared, and Y/N researched for a couple of hours before they called it a night.

The three of them could only hope that tomorrow the angel of time would wake up and fix this mess.

 - - -

In the other world, Dean and Sam found themselves with Catherine in Jensen’s trailer. Everyone had their own laptop to use, with two borrowed from the set and one being Jensen’s. Cat would use Jensen’s laptop in between scenes, so she knew his password.  

From the last time they were here, the Winchesters hadn’t found anything that would help them get back to their world. It was luck that the witch had found them and through her, they were able to get back to their world. With the witch dead, they only had two choices now: wait for their Y/N to find a way to bring them back or continue to search this alternate world for a way back. The odds were against them, as it seemed this would be another world where the supernatural may have not existed except in stories.

“We should head out.” Catherine suggested aloud catching everyone’s attention. “At least back to my hotel, unless you two plan on doing some acting tomorrow.”

“No thank you.” Dean shut his laptop closed.

Sam yawned agreeing with his brother.

“Let me make a call to my hotel real quick.” Catherine stated before leaving the trailer for a little bit.

When she came back, she asked if they were ready as she had a car waiting for them already. They all packed up, bringing the laptops with them to continue the next day. When they arrived at the hotel, the Winchesters found themselves in a suite room.

“Awesome.” Dean smiled as he walked in, spotting two queen beds. “Sammy, you get one. And Y/N and I can get the other one.”

Sam cleared his throat as Catherine had her eyes wide.

“Sorry. You just – You look exactly like her that I forgot for a moment.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

Cat smiled almost forcibly. She wouldn’t have minded sharing a bed with Jensen without finding it awkward back in the day. Nowadays, there was no way that she could.  “The sofa actually turns into a bed. I can take that and –“

“No way. You’re getting one of the queens. Sam and I will play for the other.” The older Winchester held one hand out in a fist over the other hand. The deciding game would be the infamous rock, paper, and scissors with Sam.

Cat knew this always resulted in Dean losing in the show, but maybe things would be different?

Nope.Dean still loss with scissors, per usual.

With sleeping arrangements decided, everyone got ready for bed. Catherine had grabbed some clothing from the set for Dean and Sam before they had left to the hotel. Luckily, Jensen and Jared had some extra sleeping clothes in their trailer, which Cat had helped herself too as well. 

About an hour after saying their good nights, the older Winchester found himself still awake. This would be the first night in a long time that he wouldn’t be sleeping next to you. While thinking about what you could be doing right now, he was surprised to hear light footsteps from the bedroom into the living room where he resided. He kept quiet, acting like he was asleep when he heard the ruffling of a bag and jar open. That’s when he sat up from his bed and saw a bag of bread and Nutella jar on the table by his sofa bed.

Cat was exactly like Y/N. He thought. Trying not to spook her, the older Winchester spoke quietly,  “Late night Nutella sandwich?”

Cat looked up with her mouth full. 

Exactly like Y/N. Dean chuckled to himself, shaking his head.  

She swallowed the bite she took as she embarrassingly smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. When I have a lot going on in my mind, I tend to -“

“...eat?” Getting off of the sofa bed, Dean took a seat next to Cat. He noticed she scooted a bit away from him. It wasn’t the first time he noticed that Catherine seemed to be cautious of how she acted around him. “You’re pretty similar to Y/N, you know. I caught her doing the same thing when we first met.”

“No way. Y/N is a badass. The only thing I share with her is the name.” She took another bite of her sandwich as she expected Dean’s confused reaction. “I know I told you guys my name is Catherine. It’s actually my middle name. I just use it for my stage name."

“So your first name on your birth certificate is...?” Dean questioned, more for verbal confirmation.

“It’s Y/N…”

Next Part Six!

Feedback is welcome!

YNFTW Tag:

@chloe-skywalker  @darkswanordie   @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @aomi-nabi @damn-sassalecki @right-til-the-end @wingedcatninja @the-real-witch @toews-a-peek @lokilove3112 @tftumblin @calaofnoldor @monkeymcpoopoo @cassiopeia-barrow @nickyrose3123 @icequeen206 @winchester-marvel-girl @liviaolivia

#You're Not From This World #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #spn fanfic #Dean Winchester #french mistake imagine #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #Sam Winchester

[lamalefix]

Shockwave 2/5

[yeah, now counting 5 chapters instead of 2! - I don’t even know, really, don’t ask me]

[read ch.1; read it on ao3]

[Buddie fic, angst with happy ending; hurt/comfort; explosions; PTSD; I don’t even know]

When a bomb explodes, the area around the explosion becomes over pressurized, resulting in extremely compressed air particles that move faster than the speed of sound. A wave that annihilates space and time and yet exists only for a handful of milliseconds. The initial damage of the wave is what deals the majority of the damage. Even if it lasts only a blink of an eye, the destruction is numbing. And that’s exactly what is happening in Eddie’s chest.

Or, a bombing attack strikes a quite smooth shift, and Buck and Eddie really need to have a break.

At first, Eddie is not even near to the ownership of himself. It feels like floating in a calm sea of nothingness in that first somehow blissful moment. Until someone decides to rub his sternum with knuckles, and force him to open his eyes.

Perhaps, if he were vaguely more lucid, he would be aware of the echo of people murmuring around him. But the only thing he can’t hear, while someone shoots some light in his eyes, the only thing he doesn’t hear in that big tumultuous noise is Buck’s voice. Evan. He was with him, wasn’t he?

He doesn’t even have the strength to panic, as exhausted as he is. His head that darkens every passing second and the eyes become foggy.

He tries to follow the light, not in the figurative sense of it as in going to the afterlife, but he is actually trying to follow the movements of the torch that someone between Hen and Chim is shooting in his eyes, but also too much light makes him sleepy and before he can protest, before he can say something, anything, sleep has the upper hand.

There is another moment. Again someone wakes him up, or maybe this time he wakes up on his own, and as soon as he wakes up, he doesn’t even have time to open his eyes that someone flashes a light again, which he tries to follow, because that’s the practice, even if Eddie protests, or at least is convinced to protest. He is very grouchy, but there is someone who keeps him down, who says something to him with a calm and shooting voice, a voice that usually in these cases, from which he remembers, is not so quiet.

That’s the voice he was looking for before, Buck. Evan is there.

And somehow, in the blink of an eye, he falls asleep again.

It happens again, and again.

Eddie would like to keep track of how many times it happens, of how many times someone wakes him up and shoots the light in his eyes. But he just can’t count. He simply can’t remember. He knows that they are all separate times, because every time he is more annoyed than before, but he can’t say how many times it has happened so far.

The fact is, there is always someone there, who speaks softly, in such a low and quiet voice that is like a lullaby and lulls him back to sleep.

Then there are sounds, noises, that echo in the room. And Eddie is certain that a strange dull grunt came out of his throat. An impossible thirst that tightens his trachea and dries up his palate.

The stifled and somewhat relieved laughter that follows his lament is coming from Buck. He says something to him, and Eddie is sure he’s talking to him because he uses that tone, the one he uses when Eddie wakes up at night and can’t get back to sleep, which somehow helps him fall asleep again. It’s his calm, gentle tone, the same he uses when Christopher has a nightmare, or gets sad about something.

And Eddie is so happy to be there, to hear that tone and gradually as he starts fighting again, and losing, against sleep, he hears Buck talk to someone else and Eddie finds himself thinking, for a second before sleep takes him away again, how lucky he is.

It happens again. Someone shoots the light in his eyes without too much kindness. That someone, a unrecognizable voice, mumbles something, and maybe, maybe Eddie replies, maybe even a little frustrated. The voice is a dull, annoyed groan. Or maybe Eddie is just imagining it, maybe it’s one of those conscious dreams. He moves to take the hand, that hand that anchored him to reality, but his fingers caress a vacant space on the thin cotton blanket that feels raw under his fingers. Or maybe even that movement is non-existent, maybe he just imagined moving, another conscious dream, maybe he’s still sleeping.

When he emerges from his sleep, if he was asleep, this time, the light that greets him is that not at all welcoming and decidedly freezing of an hospital room. It blinks at him impudently and Eddie can’t help grunting a half-curse in Spanish.

This time, there isn’t that reassuring voice that whispers softly and lulls him back to sleep gently. There is only the mechanical murmur of the heart monitor. He expected to feel at least Evan’s scent, his shiny eyes looking over him, his hair maybe tousled because when he is in panic mode, he has a tendency to run his fingers through his hair continuously, as if looking for a bit of comfort.

But when Eddie manages to open his eyes not without a great effort, finally, and looks around, Evan isn’t there.

And panic washes over him. It slips under his skin and snatches his breath away.

Was it a dream? Didn’t he find Buck? Wasn’t Evan there with him? Where is he?

The roar of the wind, of that vacuuming destructive wind, echoes in his ears.

And Eddie is there again, in the darkness of that collapsed building, and is looking for Evan. The cement dust that makes his nose itch and tastes like something that hasn’t been so bitter in his mouth for years, the red sand of Afghanistan.

It’s all an absurd string of information.

His brain has short-circuited.

He’s in the building, but he’s also on the street, yet he’s also in Afghanistan. He is everywhere and yet he is also there, in the hospital. And he needs to ground himself, he needs to try and not to panic.

It rarely happens, but when it does, it’s like drowning.

When you have post-traumatic stress disorder, the symptoms come and go, disappear for a period and then suddenly reappear.

At first Eddie didn’t even know what his trigger was, suddenly he became really worried, frightened, hyper-alert, he closed himself in that little corner of his mind, and physically in another room or further away, further away until it passed. The episode.

Then he had learned to move his attention to focus on something that in everyday life is difficult to experience: that noise, that lapping and deadly wind.

Strong memories, that terrible and uncomfortable feeling of being there to relive everything, without being able to do anything to change things. Sounds, images, smells, thoughts… everything comes rushing over him, like acid rain and hurricane.

It hasn’t happened for a long time, he hasn’t had that horrible sensation on his skin for a long time. That burns his face like the sun on that red sand, the helmet that crushes his hair and the familiar weight of all those lethal weapons in his hands.

The light of that hospital room blinds him, and the smell of disinfectants and antiseptics is swept away by the one of dust and wind, debris and cement, the blood that dries on the soil, that dries on the red sand has its own terrifying smell. His heart is beating fast and even the screeching of the heart monitor, if only he could hear it, could testify it. His senses are in full alert and his brain just stops its normal functions and begins to deal with the danger.

It doesn’t matter where it is, it only matters that the body is ready to fight.

With PTSD, the brain doesn’t process the trauma in the right way, if we can say so. “To explain it in the simplest way in the world,” said Frank in one of their therapy sessions “the brain doesn’t archive the stressful event, the trauma, like the past event that it is. The result? You don’t feel safe even when you are, safe”.

And maybe it’s also because he has always had control over everything, his emotions, the things that happen around him. Or maybe it’s because in recent times he has always had Buck beside him.

But now Buck is gone and Eddie is back in Afghanistan, back in that damn building, back on the street, the ladder truck upside down and Buck screaming.

And it hits him like a bat on his head: that’s the sound that pours in his head, that dramatically familiar to what he heard in that fucking building. It’s Buck. Evan screaming and asking for help.

And Dios! Dios, how much he doesn’t want to hear that noise, that terrible noise anymore.

In front of him there is no scorching sunlight of the Afghan desert, but the flashing of police lights and the noise is that of the helicopter flying above them. The kid, Eddie honestly forgot his name as soon as he heard it, is there and threatens to blow everything up.

And he must find a way to anchor himself to the present, to reality. He needs to, he knows Evan is alive, or at least was alive after the bombing, the embolism, the tsunami… Dios.

He has the salty taste of tears in his mouth, a sense of helplessness that pervades every single cell of his body.

His breath is shorter and shorted down his throat, scratching the palate, the heart beats faster, faster, faster and faster. And his brain that tells him to act, to move, to do something because he has to save him, he has to go to Buck, he has to save him or he will die. Evan will die.

But his body doesn’t respond.

And as he tries to detach cables and tubes, someone enters his field of vision, a nurse and then Eddie sees him, the familiar way of walking, limping at most, the puff of blonde hair and the eyes that look like two wells of turquoise water.

The nurse looks for something to give him, a doctor who barks orders somewhere Eddie doesn’t really want to focus, his eyes are on Buck. And maybe he sees it, the plaster on his forehead or the splint around his left wrist. But he’s there, and there’s nothing more important than that.

“No sedatives, please…” he hears Evan say calmly as he approaches him. “I’ll calm him down, I know how to do it”.

And Eddie is already calmer, now that he sees him standing, blood and pain only a distant memory, only the fruit of his mind.

Buck picks up his face and directs it just enough to look him in the eyes, a delicate smile that curves his lips. But his eyes are worried, almost scared. “Hey Eds, I’m here, I got you. I got you.” he says softly, “You have to breathe slowly. Follow my lead, alright?” he adds before taking a deep and slow breath, puffing out the air in a very noisy way.

Eddie complies, like a good soldier. Or at least he tries. He closes his eyes and concentrates. Usually when he isn’t so stressed, he just needs to repeat that this, this is real, breath in, and out. When he had this kind of episodes more frequently, he just needed to ground himself, and all those horrible feelings would start to vanish.

Buck’s hands holding his face gently, his voice, the warm breath that collides on his face, is calming.

Contrary to what it may seem, between the two of them, Eddie is the more tactile, who almost always needs physical contact, continuous and close. It is a kind of grounding technique. Feeling that contact helps him keep your feet on the ground, to be careful, to feel and not to feel together. When they are working, he only needs to feel his thigh pressed against Buck’s, that familiar squeeze on his shoulder or his hand on the small of his back. Maybe when nobody looks at them, Buck’s lips rub at the corner of his forehead, nothing PG-13 or to report to HRs, just enough to feel close to him.

So, Buck does the thing he usually does when Eddie needs it, the thing that he does best! He sits down next to him and pulls him against his chest, in spite of all the cables and pipes to which Eddie is connected. Buck moves him slowly, handling him with a care, a patience, that is usually reserved to tiny fragile things. Eddie isn’t anything like that, yet, Buck knows how to touch him like this, when he needs to.

It’s like Buck knew of his need for constant confirmation, even before Frank pointed it out to Eddie, because Eddie is someone who runs away and burns every bridge around him, and Buck has always seen himself abandoned.

Maybe that’s why the two of them work so well, and not just because of that wonderful and mind-blowing sex, or because Buck clicks just right with Christopher. But for this, because the two of them compensate each other.

Buck tightens his grip on him, as he has done in that fucking building, as he has done so many times, if he squeezes him and draws with his fingertips on his back small reassuring circles. “It’s all right, Eddie. I got you. We are alive, we are safe. We are in the hospital and… you know what happens next. You know what you need to do. Can you tell me?”.

Eddie tries to open his mouth, but his breath is always short and heavy, even now, even now that he tries to breathe slowly, to mimic Buck’s breathing.

Buck barely moves, says something to someone, or maybe tells him something, but Eddie can’t really catch up his words. The screams are disappearing, and only this enormous sense of helplessness remains that makes his legs tremble, his breath that is only dull noise, he also hears the beating of his heart that echoes in his ears, in his head.

Someone turns off the light and the flashing lights cease to flicker in his head, and there is that hand behind his neck, which then pushes him into an even warmer embrace. Eddie is a tactile type, and Buck knows it, and kisses his temple twice and squeezes him against his chest, nuzzling with his cheek on the top of his head. He says something again and again, the calm tone of his voice, the slow breathing, the beating of his heart that echoes in every little corner of Eddie’s body.

It takes forever to end that. Or maybe it’s just been a minute but it seems like an eternity. Eddie’s eyes are fogging with hyperventilation and, at the same time he would like to hide somewhere and stay there, because Evan is there, on him, with him.

Buck kisses his temple again, slowly and after a moment of silence, finally speaks to him again, his lips against his skin, just below the hairline. “Hey, hey Eddie, let’s try again okay?” he murmurs, his voice soft and husky. “Breathe with me. Everything is fine, everything is fine, we are saved, we are in the hospital, a bit battered but in one piece…”.

Eddie tightens his eyelids again and focuses on Buck’s voice, on the surrounding silence marked only by the heart monitor that chirps gradually more and more slowly. Eddie finally manages to heave a deep breath.

“Can you tell me what to do now?” Buck mumbles again.

“Say… three things… in here…” Eddie mutters, his voice hoarse and raw.

“Hey, yes.” Buck says “Three things, very good, you are so good Eddie…” he adds, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s forehead. He is rocking slowly, as if to rock it. “Tell me three things. I don’t count”.

Eddie groans as he tries to focus on what he can see in the dimly illuminated room. The light that filters through the parchment texture of the curtains on the windows and the open door is enough to enlighten the room. It must be afternoon.

“The bed,” he says and swallows a lump in his throat, an impossible thirst that scratches his throat. He rubs his hand on the bed and goes to wrinkle Buck’s shirt between his fingers and borrows in his chest, nuzzling against him.

“This one was easy, I need more details, Eds, you know,” he whispers.

“It is uncomfortable. It’s small. The both of us can’t fit in it…” he babbles. “The sheets are thin and raw, and you can feel the reinforced plastic of the mattress… the ugly one… that smells of… antiseptic I─I…”.

“You don’t like hospitals, I know. Neither do I,” Buck huffs, a soft hint off grin in his voice. “What else is there?”.

Eddie’s eyes move enough to focus on a chair. “A chair. Near the bed… Steel and plastic… It looks uncomfortable. Is it uncomfortable?”.

“It is. A lot.” Buck whispers quietly. “The last one?”.

Eddie hums “You don’t count?” the voice coming out faintly from the bottom of his throat. He is exhausted, but he is calmer now.

“I’m no object Eds, and you know I’ll always be here” Buck murmurs. “So?”.

Eddie heaves a long sigh. “Curtains.” he nods. “They are long. And… seem a little… cheap?”.

“Good boy. Very good.” he mumbles slowly, kissing his temple again. “Can I leave you a little, so you lie down?”.

Eddie tightens his grip on him and shakes his head slowly. The movement makes him feel dizzy and he needs to shut his eyes for a moment, his head spinning a bit.

“Okay, okay,” Buck whispers, settling better against him.

It never happened that Buck was there after. When this kind of shit happens, as soon as his breathing calms down a little, Eddie pulls back. A sense of disgust that takes over his stomach. Maybe he mumbles something, maybe he says that he needs a minute, but the fact is that he throws himself in the corridor and hurries into the bedroom. He locks the door behind him and sits down against the wooden slab and starts breathing heavily. Arms crossed on his knees, tight to the chest, forehead resting against his wrists. Usually he feels it, he knows that doesn’t end there. He feels it in his bones that the episode isn’t over. Buck has never seen him in a state like this, he was there when something like this happened, a couple of times, but… never like this, never like this. And Buck is so good, so damn good, so patient with him. How is it even possible?

He hears him whisper softly, an ancient melody that maybe Eddie knows, but now he just can’t name it. His lips against his ear as he swings slowly, cradling him. His big, strong hand moving in the centre of his back, his touch soft, like a feather. The other is still on his neck, his fingers intertwined with the short scruffy hair at the nape.

And now he feels anchored to the present. No more noise, no more fear. Finally, he begins to relax.

And maybe Buck feels it because he loosens his grip on him and rearranges Eddie with an unbelievable care with his back on the pillow. He doesn’t even realize the small twinge of pain that radiates from his ribs. Twinge that may have been there earlier too, when Buck pulled him in that warm embrace.

And for a second, for a mere second Eddie worries, that he could leave again. Never again. A tiny part of him says.

But Buck doesn’t go away, obviously he doesn’t go away. He remains there, sitting on the bed next to him and holds one hand on his chest, the other is intertwined with his. “You’re exhausted,” he says, rubbing her thumb against his sternum. “Sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d wake up while I was away… more likely I hoped you’d wait for me… I was out talking to Christopher and your abuelita… and then to the doctor, who had just visited you… I couldn’t think he woke you up, you woke up, sorry…” he murmurs.

And Eddie wants to tell him something, a lot of thing to be honest, but… But his words begin to get lost in the confusion that clouds his mind.

Evan always apologizes. And one day he will also get tired of apologizing. Especially when, no, he doesn’t have to apologize. Especially not now, that it’s Eddie who has to apologize, that is Eddie’s fault. That it is Eddie who must be remembered that he is there, alive and pretty much kicking, and that he is a kind of gift from heaven.

A lot of time has passed since that incident. And they have been together for months now. They have already signed up to the HR papers, and Buck has been living with him for a couple of months. He’s renting out his apartment, so they have an extra income, and he does all those little domestic things for them. This, this Eddie must remember. And he has to ignore that little voice in his head, which says slowly, but with a certain redundant industriousness, that sooner or later Evan will get tired of Eddie, if the episodes return with the same frequency as before, Evan will leave him. He will go away too.

And maybe he already believes in that little voice, and ignores all the things that Buck, that Evan does for him every day. For him and for Christopher, but let’s be honest: who can say no to Christopher?

Maybe he’ll leave tonight, this very night, as soon as Eddie lets go of his hand. And Christopher will lose another parental figure. And he will lose the love of his life.

But Buck is young, Evan, Evan is so young and handsome, and cheerful, radiant, like the sun and the stars and… and there are really no words to describe him that are not a limit to what he is, what he really is. And even with all the horrible things that have happened to him in the past few years, he never gave up. He never had these episodes, Evan. It is clear that Eddie is flawed, he has some manufacturing defects. It is clear that he doesn’t have to be happy, but he is destined to wallow in the black slime he has already dived into when he was with Shannon. And it made her unhappy too. It is not fair that Evan is unhappy, as Shannon was, as Eddie was. It isn’t fair that the light has to disappear from his eyes.

In his head thoughts crowd, it always happens that they come, these thoughts that intrude into his daily life, when he has these episodes. These thoughts that convinced him to delay his return, to sign in for another tour, when Christopher was born, that made him run away. That make him run away.

He doesn’t know how long he is there, in that dark corner of his head, he hears Buck talking to him softly. Evan always talks a lot when he’s panicking, he does it to keep heavy thoughts away, to talk and make them fly. And he also talks so much to give him time, to anchor him to reality.

Eddie doesn’t listen, or rather he listens, he always listens to him when he speaks, but he can’t process the information. He continues to think that maybe, maybe it’s too much, for Buck having to stand there and put up with Eddie and all that baggage of problems, all that shit that Eddie carries with him. Evan will leave, as soon as he leaves his hand, Evan will leave.

“Sorry…” he mumbles, his eyes closing with exhaustion.

Buck leans his head to the side, like those big dogs who look at the smaller ones with a confused look on their silly big faces. “What for?” he blurts out and then widens his eyes with realization. “For an episode, Eddie? You never, you must never apologize”.

“But…” he begins to say and the words are all there, so fucking many, and he would like to tell him a lot more, but they end up at the bottom of his throat and don’t seem to want to go out, they crowd one another but nothing comes out but an awkward grunt of exasperation.

Buck tightens his grip on his hand, his fingers intertwined with Eddie’s even more, as if to reduce the already small space between their palms. “When you want to talk, I will be here. I am always here. I’m not leaving, I’ve been waiting for you all this time, I’m not going to leave because you had a… what? Panic attack? We were in an extremely dangerous situation and… and you just reacted to protect yourself… it’s normal, Eddie. I’d say physiological…” he adds, moving their hands so he can actually kiss every single one of Eddie’s knuckles. His lips soft and warm and, and Eddie can’t really find the right words.  

“I just… you know, you never seen me like this” he finally croaks.

“And you never got to see me like this neither, but…” Buck snorts nonchalantly. “Eddie, I’m not going to leave because you aren’t perfect or you aren’t made of steel. I don’t want a man of steel, a fucking Clark Kent, or Captain America, I don’t want a robot… I want you.” He says, like it’s so easy to say things like that.

And Eddie’s heart swells in his chest, and maybe the heart monitor can catch that too. He opens his mouth but Buck continues, moving a bit closer in the process, to leave a peck on the top of Eddie’s head.

“You, with your stupidly good hair, and your stupidly heartwarming smile, and this thick head of yours… you are so lucky you have such a hard head, you…” he adds, moving to shackle little kisses all over his face. “You with that silly way to dance in the kitchen when you think I don’t see you, I’m always watching you, so yeah, I know. And your kid loves it, so you should really let us enjoy it a bit more…” he adds his lips ghosting on his skin. “And… and your terrible cooking skills and… and your adorable little snores… I want all of it. I want you.” He murmurs, voice husky and raw and a bit broken. “I want you with all those little cracks on your heart that, if you’ll let me, I’ll gladly patch up… all your little scars that I want to mend. I’m never going to leave you”.

The breath stings at the back of Eddie’s throat. “Fuck”.

“Oh, yeah, that too.” He says. That shit-eating grin of his, that even in that dim light, is glimmering. “Your dick, you know… your ass… your mouth… we are very good in bed and we are very compatible… I can go on forever, if you ask me. But it didn’t sound so romantic, you know?” he says, amused.

Eddie swallows, and scoffs and that little voice in his head is finally gone. “You…”.

And maybe Eddie wants Evan to interrupt him, maybe he wants some cocky comment and wants him to make him laugh, even if it seems painful. But he stays silent, his lips moving slowly from is temple to his cheekbone, the light stubble on Buck’s chin that frictions against his skin.

“You are amazing, you know that?” he says, and it’s kind of an understatement. All his words resound of emptiness, Buck, Evan is way more, something more and, and Eddie should really find a way with his words.

“You are pretty amazing too” Evan murmurs. “And you know, all efforts and commitments… I’m going to be always yours”.

“Always?” he asks, and would like to kick himself because his voice trembles when it comes out of his throat. It sounds like a plea, a prayer, a boundless prayer.

“Always.” Evan repeats, voice sure and clear, rubbing his lips on Eddie’s in a quick kiss. “Now let the doctor out here visit you and then get some sleep, huh?” he then says. “I stay here, I stay here all the time, physiology permitting, and maybe tomorrow we’ll get you home”.

Eddie snorts half a bitter laugh.

In his head echoes that thought the one he had on the truck. I’m going to ask you to marry me.

If only he found the right words.

[trying to tag @buckleystrand; @sparksfly-buddie​; @chrrlees and whoever wants to be tagged]

#buddie fic #my writing? oh I couldn't help it #9 1 1 fic #ptsd tw #ptsd #angst with happy ending #hurt/comfort #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #shockwave #lamalefixwrites

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

(Vol. XII)

It was a love story from the very beginning.

First date Illusion for a broken man

(5x03//5x10//5x11//5x13//5x14)

Hello Friends! I'm here again with another volume from my Destiel Chronicles.

In this meta I'm gonna trace a parallel between 5x03 "Free to be you and me" and 5x13 "My bloody Valentine."

I want to say thank you to my friend @agusvedder who made the gifs for this meta! You are amazing, girl!

Now, let's start this...

First hunting date

When Dean and Cas went on their first hunt together, it was like a first date, and as we saw in 5x03 "Free to be you and me", Dean really enjoyed being Castiel's partner and hunt with CAS.

Trying to teach him human's stuffs, giving him advices, and even going out to a brothel with him was so fun, that he admitted he was happy with him, as he wasn't in a long time.

Yes... Seeing Castiel having a bad time was funny too, he was discovering being around the angel was exquisitely entertained. He had tried made him mad, and locking him with pop culture, and now watching him so nervous was delicious.

That had been a great first date, he even tried to seduce him by flirting... But Cas was such a cute clueless angel...

But I'm a broken man

Coming back to 5x10 "Abandon all hope", Jo gets hurt bc she saved Dean from the hellhounds. And she dies later with her mother Hellen.

Dean let the guilt to consume him again, and we had, immediately after that episode, 5x11 "Sam interrupted", in which we saw Dr. Cartwright, as a construction/illusion, from Dean's mind to question himself about the mission, about his duties. The program he had in his head as THE BIG PROTECTOR and the FIRST BORN. The mission to protect everyone to any cost, even his life. He was questioning that because he felt Jo and Hellen had died for him. And that was too painful.

The first time Dr. Cartwright appeared, she asked Dean about his father, but the second time... He asked about the Mission Heritage.

DR. CARTWRIGHT: Why you?

DEAN: Why me, what?

DR. CARTWRIGHT: Why do you have to hunt monsters? Why not let someone else do it?

DEAN: (shrugs, smiles) Can't find anybody else that dumb. (thinks for a moment) It's my job. Somebody's gotta save people's asses, yours included.

Here is Dean asking himself why he has to do this. Why he has to hunt and keep saving people. And he answers himself. IT'S MY JOB. IT'S MY DUTY. BECAUSE I'M AN OBEDIENT SON. I'M A GOOD SON.

Then this...

DR. CARTWRIGHT: So, is there a quota? How many people do you have to save?

DEAN: All of them.

DR. CARTWRIGHT: All of them? You think you have to save everyone?

DEAN: Yep. Whole wide world of sports.

Dean has to save and protect anyone. So... Why he couldn't protect Jo and Hellen? That's the huge guilt that is now on his shoulders... But this didn't end there... When the Doctor asked how he would protect and save everyone, he said...

DEAN: It's the end of the world, okay? I mean, it's a damn Biblical apocalypse, and if I don't stop it and save everyone, then no one will, and we all die.

DR. CARTWRIGHT: That's horrible.

DEAN: Yeah, tell me about it.

DR. CARTWRIGHT: I mean, apocalypse or no apocalypse...monsters or no monsters, that's a crushing weight to have on your shoulders. To feel like six billion lives depend on you...God...how do you get up in the morning?

DEAN stares contemplatively for a moment.

DEAN: That's a good question.

How can Dean avoid all of this and wake up in the morning? He can't... He is carrying with it the whole journey... As we will see in the following scene.

Free will is an illusion

In episode 5x13 "The song remains the same", Dean talks with Michael!John, and that was one of the huge points that settled the Dean's despair that will lead him to say Yes to Michael and I will talking about that in the next volume, I just wanted to point here this phrase from the Archangel...

MICHAEL: You're my true vessel but not my only one.

DEAN: What is that supposed to mean?

MICHAEL: It's a bloodline.

DEAN: A bloodline?

MICHAEL: Stretching back to Cain and Abel. It's in your blood, your father's blood, your family's blood.

Michael is announcing everything is part of a plan, everything was constructed with a reason and with a destiny.

MICHAEL: You know, my brother, I practically raised him. I took care of him in a way most people could never understand, and I still love him. But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to.

DEAN: Oh, because God says so?

MICHAEL: Yes. From the beginning, he knew this was how it was going to end.

DEAN: And you're just gonna do whatever God says.

MICHAEL: Yes, because I am a good son.

DEAN: Okay, well, trust me, pal. Take it from someone who knows—that is a dead-end street.

Michael is the good son, the obedient, as Dean is. This similitude is traced intentionally, and is one more proof that reveals everything was written to be like this. Even Mary and John were made for each other by design of God.

This lasts words from Michael will stay in Dean and will be part of the following events I will analyze in the next volume, will show us why he was about to quit to his free will.

Tryin to remember that first date when I was happy with you...

So, after these two things that happened to Dean, after questioning his duties, Famine arrives to the town on 5x14 "My bloody Valentine". And is Saint Valentine's day... But Dean was so broken and sad, that he didn't want to celebrate as always...

They start to investigate in the Morgue, and when they found enochian in one of the victims, they decided to call Castiel... And this classic Destiel scene happened...

Again he has this dorky angel in front of him, and is incredible he is doing that. But Dean and Cas are looking at each other's eyes again, with that intensity the hunter is use to by now... But is not less captivated.

And then, when CAS is explaining the boys about Cupid, Dean made a joke again...

DEAN: You mean the little flying fat kid in diapers?

CASTIEL: They're not incontinent.

SAM: Okay, anyway. So, what you're saying--

CASTIEL: What I'm saying is a Cupid has gone rogue and we have to stop him--before he kills again.

Castiel got a little anxious here, and Dean enjoys this. He enjoys this as he enjoyed putting him nervous that time in the brothel. He enjoys seeing Castiel mad too.

With all the things that happened to Dean, sad things, seeing Cas and... As we could see later on this episode, hunting alone with him, it reminds him that first date/hunt they had, when he was happy. When he enjoyed Castiel's company. So yes. Dean wasn't interested in food, in sex, in celebrating Valentine's day, he didn't feel Famine influence on him... The only thing/person that caught his attention was this dorky angel again. Because with him he had a good time. And now, admiring him and looking at him that way, checking him, he was trying to enjoy Castiel's company. (Even if people could say this was a cockles scene... The writers and the producers let the thing in the episode for one narrative reason.)

That's one deep, dark nothing Dean got there.

When Castiel realized Dean was the only one not having symptoms with Famine on town, he get curious.

CASTIEL: (...) What I don't understand is...where is your hunger, Dean?

DEAN: Huh?

CASTIEL: Well, slowly but surely, everyone in this town is falling prey to Famine, but so far, you seem unaffected.

But the truth was, the big hole Dean's had inside and Famine saw...

As I analyzed in my meta "Let's make a tour inside Dean's soul", that hole, that nothing, will be filled with love, family love and romantic love. But now, Dean is feeling empty, dead.

To conclude:

Jo and Hellen's deaths incremented the guilt inside Dean, he questioned his whole mission as the Big Protector.

The first date/hunt Dean and Cas had in 5x03, is a very nice memory for Dean, because he was happy and having a good time with CAS there.

In 5x14 "My bloody Valentine", the only thing/person Dean showed interest was Castiel, going to a hunt with him again and seeing him acting like the weird, dorky, little guy he is, should brought Dean good memories from their first hunt together.

The emptyness Dean have inside, pointed by Famine, is one another huge point for the following events, and later will be filled with Love.

I hope you like this!! C-u in the next volume!

Tagging @metafest @gneisscastiel @mrsaquaman187 @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @castiellover20 @whyjm @koshisekisen @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @cheerstofandomfamily @drsilverfish @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfatmydoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @hippyatheart80 @xsghn @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh

If you want to be tagged in the Destiel Chronicles, please let me know.

Links to previous volumes: VIII / IX / X / XI

Buenos Aires May 23rd 2019 1:21 AM

#supernatural meta #destiel meta #destiel chronicles #vol. xii #season 5 meta

[coinofstone]

Mint Condition 14x04

If you follow me on the tweety you’ll know that I made a pathetic attempt at a full season re-watch starting in like… September. I got as far as the end of S5 before S15 began, but given my severe case of swiss cheese brain I decided to pause the full series re-watch there and pick up at 14x01. I figured it’ll be faster to get through S14 for a refresher and then go back to S6. Shut up my logic makes sense to me.  ANYwho, Mint Condition is probably my second favorite episode of S14 and definitely an overall series stand out for me - even tho I did have terrible nightmares after the first time I watched it. That fuckin dummy was goddamn terrifying and my subconscious was REALLY GODDAMNED SURE he was going to kill me in my sleep. I’m happy to report i had zero issues sleeping after watching it this time. :) Altho watch I just jinxed myself, since I am gonna watch again as I write this to pull quotes and screens.  You can tell I’ve been looking up recipes cuz theres a massive intro nobody gives a shit about before I get to the point of the post. NEVER FEAR! The good bits are under the cut. 

Let me just start by pointing out that while I do believe that Stuart is a mirror for Cas, The whole toxic fanboy/incel/chan troll shtick isnt reflective of Cas as a person in the way we (I) would normally judge someone like that.  I’m not sure if it’s because Davy actually sympathizes with and sees no harms in humanizing those people, or if it was for the fun of playing with a character like that, but there certainly are some parallels there - in the sense that even within his own community he’s  a misfit, rebellious, and argumentative. either way, the trench coat is pretty damning. 

Girl Sam comments that the store had been left to her and Dirk, but Stuart had been fired twice, the previous owner kept catching him stealing. But they hired him back because “he’s my friend”. That forgiveness, Stuart’s bad choices and lack of ‘impulse control’ it’s all reflective of Cas, even though it paints Cas in an unnecessarily negative light, on the surface it’s arguable but not entirely wrong. When Stuart pulls out the Panthro toy, his response is: “so angry, so handsome” and damn if that doesnt describe Dean lol.The fact that the first thing we see him do is steal this handsome, angry figure from the place it was sent is just another Dean detail. 

Hey you know who else got stabbed in the gut like that and almost died?

These two are the strongest mirror in the ep. Bonding over candy, shared fashion sense and a love of horror flicks, Dirk tells Dean (those names) that he wants to ‘watch over’ Stuart while he is unconscious, and that despite his rough edges, Stuart has been there for him, giving him a place to crash and escape his shitty father. Which, I mean, this is heavy handed as fuck, presumably to make sure the GA doesn’t miss it, but seriously all this kid needs is an American classic muscle car and a love of Led Zeppelin. 

This where I 

curse my inability to gif because it’s the sublest of moments here but when Dirk asks Dean which of the All Saints Day movies is his favorite, Dean throws a quick glance over his shoulder, as if to make sure nobody is listening. He’s so used to hiding this side of himself, the nerd, the fanboy, that even though he’s a grown ass man that regularly kills supernatural evils, he instinctively looks around real quick to make sure he won’t get caught having this conversation. It’s heartbreaking, and I think, attributable entirely to Jensen - but that’s entirely spec on my part. He does this three times in this scene, before finally getting comfortable and enjoying Dirk’s company. Jesus you’d think he was engaging in some kind of elicit trade the way he’s got his head on a swivel. Poor thing. 

“growing up it was always nice to check out for while… I like to watch movies where I know the bad guys’s gonna lose.” Dean’s preferred method of escapism is relatable, sure, but  he’s also point blank telling us right here, WHY he’s been hiding out in his room watching these movies, he’s self-soothing. He’s just revealed that he was awake and drowning the entire time he was possessed by Michael, he doesn’t know why he was ‘released’ but he knows he came home to find a ‘house full of strangers’. The fact that his self care at this point is pizza, beer and movies the way he did as a kid rather than cheap whiskey, the way we’ve seen him do as an adult, probably speaks volumes to how actually affected he really is.  

Dean being the one to wrestle with the father figure - the owner of the store who taught them everything they know before his death, leaving them the business to run and then possessing the lifesize figure of a mechanic who’d been literally burned in order to get revenge on the one who’d been stealing from them - I hate the idea of a John vs Cas parallel and I don’t think it was intended to go that deep, but there’s no denying a paralell between the ghost of Jordan and John.  

The thread on these two, in my opinion, is a little thin. Beyond the ‘ha ha Sam’s a girl’ joke, and their shared science nerd bit here, the main thing really is that even though the store was left to Sam AND Dirk, it seems like Sam is the defacto leader. She’s the one we see dealing with the incoming delivery, she’s the one behind the counter, and she’s the one who called Stuart to call him out on their one star yelp review. At this point in the season, Sam Winchester is the defacto leader of the new hunter collective he’s inadvertently assembled by way of rescue hunters from Apocalypse World. She also demonstrates Sam’s usual ‘lore’ skills, figuring out that it’s the keys that the ghost is most likely tied to, and finding a chemical in the morgue to use as an accelerant to help rescue Dean. That’s literally all I’ve got on them two. 

This is random, but the significance of that poster has been bugging me since the live airing of this ep. I do not understand that reference and it’s driving me bonkers, so if anyone does, PLEASE TELL ME. 

🙃 I really hope I don’t have nightmares tonight. That mask on the dummy is fucking horrible. 

#supernatural #spn meta #spn 14x04 #spn mint condition #spn s14 #destiel positive #spn spoilers #spn #i really fucking hate tags #supernatural 14x04 #not proofread #a year late but still good #ok i give up #fuck tags #character parallels #MetaCoin

[brieannakeogh]

Dog Days of Summer- Ch 5

Dog Days of Summer- Chris Evans X plus sized reader. Dog days of summer are usually defined as the hottest of the year, some define it as lazy days. This year ‘hottest’ has nothing to do with the outside temp. You meet Chris and Dodger Evans while taking your own dog to the park.

Previous Chapter / Master List

Warnings: Cursing, and fluff

Chapter 5

The smile that Chris had on was big and bright as he cranked his car. He couldn’t help but chuckle thinking about the sound he heard you make through the door. One of the things he really liked about you was that you wore your heart on your sleeve. That you didn’t play games and just told him how you felt, it was refreshing and he hadn’t experienced that in a while.

He hurried home, taking Dodger for a walk and loading him into the car, ruffling the fur on his head that was poking out between the front seats. “You wanna go see your buddy Popcorn?” Chris chuckled at the enthusiastic yip Dodger produced.

You sounded a little breathless as you buzzed him up and in the apartment his eyes went to the changes that had been made in the last twenty minutes or so. Some books straightened, the clothes on the back of a chair removed, and other cleaning had been done. The pillows on the couch fluffed and sitting neatly in strategic positions, instead of just thrown about wherever your dog pawed at them. He couldn’t hide his smirk when he saw you changed clothes too. Comfortable, but cute.

“Hey Dodger!” You busied yourself petting the dog as he tried to lick your face. Pointedly ignoring the man that was attached on the other end of the leash. You half turn away, still not looking at Chris, going for the remote and couch to set up something to watch.

“Is there something wrong?” Chris asks.

“What? No, no nothing wrong.” You backup a bit with hands in the air. Your voice getting higher in pitch with each word. “What makes you think that?”

He cocks an eyebrow at you as you finally look up at him, the blood rushing to your face. “Ok, well I might be just a wee bit nervous.” You let out a huff and flop onto the couch. “I had gotten use to you in the friend, acquaintance position, never thinking that you actually like me like I did you.” Two beats pass before your register the wide eyes and smirk that Chris sports. You had basically confessed to him your crush and slap a hand over your mouth as he settles into the couch beside you.

Chuckling he pulls your hand away from your face. “I’ll let you into a secret.” He whispers to you. “I kinda already figured that part out after the first day we met.”

You release a groan and deflate more into the couch. “I wasn’t exactly subtle was I?”

“Nope.”

“Just so you know, it wasn’t just this.” You wave a hand over his body. “That I was attracted to, just like I’m sure it’s not this.” Another wave but over your body. “That you’re attracted to. It’s the whole package, especially now that I’ve gotten to know you. Dog included.”

“You’re going to give me a complex about my dog, ya know that?”

You snort at him. Dodger, who has been patiently sitting on the floor, decides now is a good time to crawl on the couch between the two of you, literally butting in.

The subject is dropped and you turn on the tv, switching to a streaming site so that you both can agree on something to watch. It’s a little awkward at first, especially on your end. You fidget a bit and have trouble relaxing with him so close, even Dodger gets annoyed with you moving about and goes to lay on the floor with Popcorn.

“Come here.” Chris has the arm closest to you laying on the back of the couch.

“Hmm?” Knowing what he wants but doubting it all the same.

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, pulling on your arm lightly to move his way. Tucking you into the crook of his shoulder and wrapping the arm around you own, rubbing his hand in circles on your upper arm. “Relax.” His warm breath on the side of your face tenses you even more, before you get your body under control.

‘It’s fine, it’s finnnne.’ Thinking to yourself. ‘This is totally acceptable. Just relax, breathe. Damn it you forgot to breathe!’

After your internal debate you finally get your breathing under control and he doesn’t seem to mind when you relax into him, pressing against his side more. It actually makes him lose some of the tension you didn’t realize he was holding in his own shoulders. That makes you smile, even more so when Dodger decides to jump back on the couch and lays over you legs with his head on your hip. It’s surreal how normal and right it all is. After another episode of the show that is on, you hear a grumble come from the man on your right.

“Getting hungry?” You giggle at the face he makes.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“You should have said something. Dodger I gotta get up, your daddy wants food.” Moving him off of your lap you go into the kitchen to pull everything out and start on dinner.

As you are chopping up the onions and bell pepper you realize Chris is standing to your side. “Need any help?”

“Depends, how do you feel about touching raw meat?”

He gives you smirk that has you narrowing your eyes at him. “Maybe you should handle the meat and I’ll take care of the vegetables.”

“Well I can’t say I’m bad at it.” You tell him with a wink. Setting down your knife, you get another cutting board and place it next to the one Chris is at, getting the package of chicken out. Before you sully your hands with chicken juice, you plug your phone up to the stereo and turn on one of your playlists, humming along and bobbing to the beat.

Before long everything is cut up and you’re both belting along to the likes of Queen and Taylor Swift. The actual cooking doesn’t take long and you leave him in charge of the pan while you get everything needed to fix the fajitas.

Turning off the music and getting comfortable back on the couch with your plates, the music from the show you were watching filters through the air while you eat.

“Damn, that was good.” Chris tells you when he’s finished.

“It was just a seasoning packet meal. Not some fancy gourmet wonderment.” You roll your eyes, grabbing his plate and taking it into the kitchen.

“Still good. I don’t get homemade food very often.” He follows you into the kitchen and starts putting away the condiments as you scrub the dirty dishes.

You eye him for a few seconds to see if there was a double meaning to that line. “As long as you help, I’ll cook anytime.”

“Go out for lunch, eat in for dinner?” You shrug. “I could be down for that. Just next month I’m going to have to start restricting my food again. I don’t want you to have to come up with separate meals for me.”

Next month? He’s already thinking about next month? “We can talk about it when it gets closer to that time. Get me a list of approved foods and such too. Who knows you might figure out you made a horrible mistake and not want to see me anymore.”

“I’m friends with most of my ex’s. Even if it doesn’t work out romantically we can still hang out when I’m in town.” He leans against the kitchen table watching you rinse out a pan.

The snort that leaves you, wasn’t intended to be so loud. “I’ve never been able to still be friends. Honestly thought it was a myth, not that there has been many.”

He walks over and leans a hip on the counter beside you, arms crossed over his chest. “All bad luck like the other guy?”

“Mmm sort of. You know about the last guy, and it was the same with the guy before that. Than the boyfriend before that was high school so it was just stupid high school drama and then he went off to college in a different state.” You dried your hands off on a kitchen towel as you talked.

“Three, huh? What a sorted past you got there.” He teased.

“Oh yeah. I typically hit it for two years then drop them like a hot potato. I gotta keep up my playa image.” Barely able to get the last out without laughing.

Chris couldn’t help himself. The sound of your laughter ringing in his ears and the crinkles at the edges of your eyes as you tried to stop yourself from laughing at your own stupid joke. Before he even knew what he was doing, he leaned down and placed his lips firmly on yours. One hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder he pulled you towards him. After a few heartbeats, he realized that you were stiff in his hands and your lips were not moving against his. Thinking he had made a mistake, he quickly removed himself from you, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry. That was too fast wasn’t it? I just…”

His words filtered through your numb mind, through one ear and out the other, not comprehending what he said. You had been so shocked at the kiss, that before you could even fully enjoy yourself he was pulling away. The second apology that ran past his lips finally stuck in your brain and you were able to grasp that he thought he had made an error, that you weren’t ready. It wasn’t the case at all. You watched as he took another half step back, feet turned to head back into the living room. He didn’t make it an inch before you were back in his path, pressing into his personal space this time. The hand that you had set on his stomach when you had stepped closer, running up to tug at the back of his neck so he would lean down allowing you to kiss him with all the passion that should have been in the previous one if you hadn’t been frozen.

He didn’t hesitate or freeze when you kissed him. His mouth moving against yours and the hand returning to your hip, this time to push your back into the counter, crowding you against it. His tongue swiping against your lip, once, twice, before pulling back, leaving some space between you.

“I would have to give that a 6 as far as first kisses go.” You joke, trying desperately to regain some semblance of normal breathing, instead of the panting that was trying to come out.

“Just a 6? I would say at least an 8.”

“My scale was out of 5.” You wink, not really sure where you were pulling this confidant act from, as currently your legs felt like jello.

“Mine too.” He had a cocky smirk on his face, but you could see his hand twitch a little, like he wanted to reach out to you again. “I should probably get going though. It’s starting to get late.”

You nod your head, not trusting what would come of your mouth would be an agreement or an offer to stay the night. It was way too soon for that and you were sure that if he didn’t leave now, he wouldn’t.

Chris turned and walked back into the living room. You couldn’t help but to cock your head to the side to watch his ass move in the jeans he had on.

Dodger reluctantly let Chris hook the leash back on him and lead him to the door, you following a few steps behind.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask as he opens the door, just a hint of insecurity in your voice.

“Definitely. I’ll text you later too.” He tells you confidently, calming the knot in your stomach, which evaporates completely when he runs a hand over the side of your face, kissing the opposite cheek goodbye.

His heart stutters again with your answering grin and the subsequent muffled squeal as he presses the call button for the elevator. He thinks he could definitely get use to that happy noise every time he left you.

Next Chapter

So I was blocked on this chapter a whole lot. It just felt boring to me. I’m sure you can see where that all changed lol. Let me know what you think!

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