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wkemeup · 3 years

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Sunrise (5)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 4.3k warnings: really flippin sweet fluff, more book recs a/n: to avoid confusion - the manner in which Bucky lost his arm is different in this series than in canon 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

For the first time since Bucky was discharged from active duty, he had a routine again.

The curtains were open before he took a shower in the morning; sunlight streaming in through the windows and casting a gentle glow over the apartment. It touched over books piled high on the coffee table, pillows neatly lined on the sofa, and blankets folded over the arm rest. Steve had nearly done a double take the first time he made his usual beeline to whip open the curtains to expose a dusty and unkempt apartment, only to find Bucky making coffee in the kitchen, freshly showered, and the sun shining high in the sky.

It had been almost a month since his first attendance at book club and he’d gone through nearly a book a week just to have the excuse to visit you at the library again for another. You’d given him your number after his first trip to the library with a binding promise to text you if he was held up in his apartment in pain again. You’d sworn to bring books straight to him and read them aloud if you had to.

You had laughed as you said it, like it was only a joke. Bucky had nodded along, but if he were honest, he would have liked that very much.

He’d arrange for times to meet you at the library at the end of your shift where you’d always have a book waiting for him. There’d be a few sitting on the shelf you’d set aside, but without fail, he always opted for the first one you presented to him. You hadn’t led him wrong so far.

After, though neither of you directly proposed it, you’d often find yourselves back at Luciana’s. It was like your feet simply carried you there, a silent agreement to spend as much time together as you could, even if you were both too afraid to admit it out loud.

He came to understand why Sunday was your favorite day of the week. Bucky started to take it upon himself to meet you at the library to walk you to the VA where he fulfilled his word to help move the couches before the usual members arrived. The look of surprise on your face when you bounced down the library steps and caught sight of him leaning on the pillar a few steps away from the busy sidewalk had been enough to convince him to never leave your side again.

Your smile was one he’d learned to memorize. He conjured it when the strangers bumped into him on the sidewalk threatened to collapse his racing heart entirely and it pushed him further. It was enough to convince him to keep going beyond the safety of his apartment walls and it was worth it every time. Just to see you smile at him like that.

***

“Have you started it yet?”

Bucky blinked a few times, reminding himself of his surroundings. You stood on his right side in line at Luciana’s behind a couple of tourists who were having a hard time discerning the difference between a cappuccino and an americano. He raised an eyebrow, confused, and you gestured to the book in his bag.

“Oh, I just flipped through the pages so far,” Bucky said, pulling the book from his bag; thick black cover with a small white illustrated creature staring up at the stars. Everyone's a Aliebn When Ur a Aliebn Too written by an author that seemed to go by a name as misspelled as the title, Jomny Sun. “It looks like a children’s book?”

You grinned and your shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s somewhere in between. You have to trust me on this one. It may seem young on the surface but it’ll tug at your heart strings. Hold your judgement until you’ve actually read it, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled, nodding. “Hey, I never said I didn’t trust you. Just curious where you’re leading me on this one.”

“Be blind, Bucky,” you sang, teasing him. “I won’t guide you into a creepy forest or the bottom of the ocean, I promise.”

“Oh good. I was starting to worry.”

It was strange to feel so light again, but there was something about your presence that allowed him to let go of all the weight he carried. He could set down his baggage at his feet for just a minute to give his back a break, to stretch out his muscles and find relief in the solace. You would have offered to carry some of it yourself if he’d asked— of that he was certain. But it was a heavy load, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for you to see what was inside just yet.

The bell to the café rang behind him and a mother and her young son walked inside. The little boy held the woman’s hand as he scrunched his nose at the smell of the coffee, pouting up at her. A bright red backpack hung off his shoulders, Velcro ties over his tiny sneakers. The soles lit up as he walked.

“Mommy, I want to go to the playground,” the kid whined and Bucky watched you laugh to yourself from the corner of his eye.

“We will, sweetness,” the mother replied calmly. She bent down to brush the hair from the boy’s eyes. “Mommy just needs a bit of caffeine before we—”

“Whoa! What happened to that guy’s arm?” the kid gasped, a mixture of shock and amazement in his tiny little voice.

Bucky tensed up immediately, every muscle in his body turning to stone. When strangers noticed his arm, he was usually met with unwanted stares and hushed whispered, but children were a whole different story. They had no filter, no sense of the unspoken rules garnered by society; they were driven by their own curiosity and something as trivial as politeness did not get in the way of that.

“Oh, honey,” the mother gripped tight to the boy’s arm, lowing her voice in hopes Bucky hadn’t heard him, “you can’t ask things like that.”

“Why not?” the boy replied innocently. “Where’d it go?”

Bucky could feel your eyes on him, studying for his reaction, but he couldn’t offer one. He was stone, after all. A frown tugged at your lips to see the sudden distress wash over him and he felt an aching puncture of embarrassment deep into his stomach. It only took the mere mention of his arm to wipe him to a blank slate, to throw him back to the battlefield where it was torn from his body. Any unexpected reminder of it usually did.

You nodded at him, offered a small smile, like you were trying to tell him it would be alright. Then slowly, you turned around and knelt in front of the boy.

“Hi,” you said sweetly, catching the mother off guard.

“Do you know what happened to his arm?” the boy asked, must to the dismay of his mother.

“Mason! Oh God, I am so very sorry,” the mother quickly apologized, flustered as she desperately tried to hush the boy. He pressed his face into his mother’s arm.

Bucky stole a glance over his shoulder to find you kneeling on the floor beside the boy, smiling at him as he clutched a plush triceratops to his chest. You tilted your head at him, trying to get a better look at the boy.

“You want to know what happened?” you asked softly. He nodded, arms wrapped tight around his stuffed toy. You glanced up at Bucky and his eyes narrowed on you, heart beating a little faster, stomach twisting, before you turned back to the boy. “He did something really brave.”

Fuck.

Did you know?

Did Sam tell you?

Bucky’s legs started to feel weak.

“You like superheroes, huh?” you continued, pointing at the image of a man in a red cape flying on the boy’s t-shirt. The boy nodded shyly. “They swoop in and save the day with their super strength or magic powers, right?”

The boy started laughing, he was smiling again, standing free from his mother’s hold. She was staring at you like you were akin to one of the characters on the boy’s shirt. Bucky felt the stones cracking around his body, freeing him from their grip.

“Is he Super Man?” Mason whispered, glancing up at Bucky with such wonder, it took him by surprise. The boy was so small, no older than four years old. Bucky didn’t know the last time he’d even talked to a kid that young and yet here you were, at the boy’s level, making him laugh and smile and easing the concerns of his mother.

“No, he’s not,” you laughed for a moment. Then, you softened, gathering the boy’s attention again. “My friend here doesn’t have super powers. So, when he saved someone, he got hurt. But I think that makes him very brave, don’t you?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically, grinning so wide Bucky wondered how it was possible your smile could be so infectious. The mother mouthed a soft ‘thank you’ in your direction as the boy quickly changed subjects to the sprinkled donut he was going to eat for snack. She caught Bucky’s eye for a minute and nodded at him, almost in appreciation. He pressed his lips to a thin line. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say anything back.

You ordered his usual coffee and one of the freshly baked muffins, then a drink and a pastry for yourself. In Bucky’s distraction with the kid, he hadn’t noticed you pay before he had a chance. He felt like he was in a bit of a trance as you led him back to a table in the far corner of the shop, away from the windows and the customers.

“You alright?” you asked as you slid into your chair opposite him.

“Did Sam tell you?” Bucky blurted out before he had a chance to bite his tongue. It was the last thing he wanted you to know about and he had half a mind to storm up to the VA just to rip Sam a new one before he shut himself off in his apartment for a few weeks.

It was the reason for the reoccurring nightmares that hadn’t let up in the last month, even when he’d started to have more good days than bad. They’d celebrated him for what he’d done, given him a medal, and thanked him for his service. The very thought of it made him want to vomit.

“Hey, hey, Bucky look at me,” you called gently, your voice at the end of a dark tunnel. He blinked, adjusting to the light. “Sam didn’t say a word about what happened. I had a theory and I made a guess. You’re clearly a good man. It didn’t feel like much of a stretch. That’s all.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, staring down at the muffin as he picked at the paper cup. He heard you sigh, surprised that he couldn’t find a single sliver of impatience in your voice. When he looked up again, you smiled sweetly at him and asked him about Alien – Aliebn? – book; quickly lost in tangent of your favorite pages and moments you were excited for him to read.

He was grateful for the change in subject, but more than that, it gave him a chance to just admire you. There was nothing strange about watching a woman, studying the intricacies on her face and the passion in her voice, when she was speaking right to him. He nodded along, doing his best to actually take in what you were saying, but he was so easily distracted by the brush of steam touching your nose, the press of your lips into your cheeks, the lines on your forehead, and the way your eyes seemed to light up the entire city block.

The kid, his arm, and nearly six years of combat were quickly forgotten when he had the chance to watch you like that. You hardly let him get a word on, too caught up in your own excitement for the novels you placed in his hand, but he didn’t mind. He preferred to listen to you anyway. Your voice had a calming presence about it; soothing and gentle, loving and joyous. If it weren’t for the clock hanging on the wall above your head, he might have sat there all night with you.

“We should probably head over,” he pointed out reluctantly, gesturing to the clock as it approached six.

You frowned, following his gaze to see the time had slipped by quicker than you realized. As you began to clear off the table, throwing the scraps in the garbage and setting the mugs on the counter for Luciana, Bucky began to wonder if maybe you would have sat there all night with him, too. If only he could find the courage to ask.

***

Bucky removed the clip from the book, closed the back binding, and slumped back into the cushions. The room was still pretty quiet, everyone’s noses still down in their books as the soft strum of Simon & Garfunkel played from the speaker by the coffee table. He glanced over at you as you sat beside him, a little closer than usual, though he didn’t mind. Your hip brushed his every so often when you adjusted position. It was a kind of closeness that left him wanting more.

You were only halfway through your own book, but you could clearly sense him watching you because you slowly looked up in his direction, a pointed smile on your face.

“You were right,” he admitted, his voice a hushed whisper in effort not to disturb the other members. “Surprisingly deep considering it’s a children’s book for adults.”

“Hey maybe we need pictures on our pages, too,” you whispered back, teasing him with a nudged to his right shoulder. He laughed, leaning back comfortably against the couch as Tony’s eyes glared over in his direction from the top of his book. He pressed his lips together to keep quiet.

You snickered into Bucky’s shoulder, lips pressing against the sleeve of his jacket and he had never wanted to remove that layer more in his life; to actually feel the imprint of your mouth instead of just the press of your face, to feel the heat in your breath breathe through the thin layer of his t-shirt. He shivered.

“Alright kids,” you said aloud, setting your book on the table. “Times up for today.”

“Oh, come on, Y/n! I’ve only got one chapter left!” Clint whined, stretching out dramatically along the table he was laying across.

“Glad to hear it, Clint,” you smirked, hands planted firm on your hips. “Finish on your own time.”

A couple of ‘ooo’s rang out and it reminded Bucky of his days sitting behind a desk in class in grade school and a kid would get called up to the principal's office. Clint took it in stride though and seemed to bask in it, throwing up a pose in face of the chorus.

The crowd quickly dispersed after that, though a few of the older members lingered behind to update you on how far they’d gotten in their books. Bucky watched you from a distance as he started to move the couches back into place, mesmerized by the glimmer in your eye as you spoke to them, a soft hand resting on the crook of their arm, nodding along with a smile on your face – always so genuine in every interaction, in every bone in your body.

Bucky had practically finished arranging the entire room by the time you walked back inside. Your jaw dropped, wide eyes meeting his.

“You didn’t have to do all that by yourself!”

Bucky shrugged. “How long were you doing it on your own before I came along? Take the help when it’s offered, Y/n.”

You smiled at that. “Still. I appreciate it.”

“It’s really nothing,” Bucky said simply.

He hadn’t felt a drive like this is years. Not even before his final tour and the destruction that came with it. He hadn’t remembered what it felt like to want to lift even the smallest of burdens for someone else just to see the weight slip from their shoulders, just to see them smile. He found himself wanting to carry everything you had, even if it started with arranging the heavy furniture of the empty VA library.

You chewed on the edge of your lip as you watched him approach the door, your jacket in his hand. He had wanted to hold it open for you, to let you turn your back and slip your arms through the sleeves, but it just wasn’t something he could do with one hand, and instead, he placed it to hang over your forearm.

A longing for a world in which you met him before his body had been put through the shredder ached deep into his gut. It started to push a frown onto his lips, but then your voice broke through and he shook it away.

“Ready?” you asked, gesturing to the door and he nodded, following closely behind.

There was a sudden nervous energy in the air he didn’t expect, and for once, it wasn’t coming from him. He glanced over at you as you walked in line with him to find you fidgeting with the zipper of your jacket, hands wringing into the fabric, and hair falling out of place and down into your eyes. You exhaled a few tense breaths as Bucky opened the main door for you, following behind as you stepped out onto the side walk.

The two of you stood there for a minute, neither one making a move to leave. You kept glancing back at the VA, then to your watch, barely able to look in Bucky’s direction and he started to feel that familiar twist of anxiety in his stomach.

“Hey, are you oka—”

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you blurted out before he could finish, biting down quickly on your lip as if to stop yourself from saying more.

Bucky froze, confused. He glanced down at his watch. It would be dark soon. “Now?”

A flash of embarrassment quickly passed over your features and Bucky’s stomach dropped.

Was it possible that you just wanted to spend more time with him? That maybe you could crave his presence the same way he did yours?

“N-No, no, you’re right. It’s late. I’m sorry,” you muttered quickly, arms folding protectively over your chest. You kicked at a stone on the sidewalk, watching as it rolled over on its side. “I should, uh, I should head home then. I’ll see you later, Bucky.”

“There’s a park nearby,” Bucky offered before you could turn away. You lifted your head.

“Yeah?” A cautious smile hung on your lips as you stepped closer to him.

Bucky nodded, trying to push away the shaking in his hand. “Yeah, come on.”

A couple minutes passed by in silence as you walked along his side. Every so often, your knuckles would brush up against his hand, a nervous laughter between you as you pulled away. It happened so quickly each time, he never had a chance to respond. Even if he did, he wasn’t sure he would have had the courage to twist his fingers into yours, hold your hand tight to his own, feel the warmth of your palm and guide you along the cobblestones to the small space of greenery amongst brick and steel and concrete.

“I hope you don’t mind me keeping you out late,” you said slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you waited at the intersection to cross the street.

“Not at all,” Bucky replied sincerely, offering you a small smile in hopes to ease your nervousness. Part of him wished he said more, maybe told you that spending time with you was the best part of his day or that you were the reason he was getting out of bed most mornings, but it was too big of an admission. It could scare you away and that was the last thing he wanted. Before he had a chance to decide, the light turned and you stepped out onto the street. Bucky followed closely behind.

The entrance to the park was bordered with a dark metal fence, an arch way carrying over the brick walkway decorated with flowers and vines. You crossed underneath, pausing to stare up the twisting of the leaved through the pattern in the arch, a delicate finger reaching out to touch the tip of a petal. You looked back at Bucky with a smile twice as wide on your face and he hung his head, a breath of a laugh in his chest.

The park was mostly empty for a Sunday evening. The last remaining streams of sunlight lit up the greenery, touching over the flowers and the reflecting into the pond at the center where a family of ducks were waddling along the edge. You seemed to like that, watching how the babies followed the mama along the rim of the water. Bucky turned to his right to find you imitating their walk, chasing after them until they stepped into the water.

Meanwhile, Bucky found a bench sitting under an old oak tree. Its branches hung draped over the bench enough to provide a shadow from the closing sun. It faced the west side of the park, where the sun was setting just over the tops of the buildings and illuminating the sky in brilliant shades of golden orange and vibrant reds.

“You want to sit for a bit?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the bench. His feet were a little tired from walking through Brooklyn all day with the library, the VA, and now this. It was more than he usually did these days – not that he minded. He’d happily allow his legs to be a little sore if it meant more time with you. He’d walk through busy streets for miles if it was you he was walking towards.

You plopped down on the bench on his right, sinking into the old wood. You glanced over at him, hiding behind a strand of hair that had fallen down into your face.

“Thanks for amusing me.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, chuckling to himself. “You act like I don’t want to be here.”

“I know, I know,” you laughed, swinging your feet off the side of the bench. “It’s just... and I hope this isn’t a strange thing to say but... I just like spending time with you. Wanted a little more of it today, I suppose.”

Bucky swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly very dry. His heart stammered a bit inside his chest, butterflies causing chaos in his stomach, but it didn’t make him want to run. He felt no drive to escape, to push those sensations so far out of reach he turned back to the numbed and empty version of himself he’d been occupied by for months before he met you. They were frightening feelings, yes, but they were pleasant ones, ones he welcomed and invited inside.

“You can have as much of my time as you want,” Bucky said as the words fell off his tongue. No filter, no second guessing. No chance to bite his tongue. You looked up at him with a kind of hope in your eyes that made his cheeks start to hurt from how much he was smiling.

You settled back in on the bench, gazing up at the sunset as it lowered behind the buildings. Brush strokes of softer tones blended into the fading blues in the sky, giving way to the moon and stars as they emerged beyond the clouds.

He glanced down at your hand as it rested on the bench by your thigh. There was hardly even a breath of air between his pinky to yours. You were so close; it would only take one instant of courage to bar the space between you.

Be brave, Barnes.

Testing the waters, Bucky allowed the very edge of his fingers to brush over your knuckles. Your skin was softer than he’d remembered from that first handshake in the VA nearly a month earlier. He felt your breath hitch like a jolt of electricity had rushed though you, though you didn’t tear your eyes away from the sunset. Your thumb ran a tender line along his hand as you turned your palm up. Bucky swallowed.

He slipped his hand into yours, curling his fingers to the space between your own, and for a moment he just let himself feel.

He felt for the slight give in your hand, the twitch in your movements as you settled in against him. He felt the gentle sway of your thumb as it painted a line along his, comforting sweeps like you were reminding him you were there. He felt the chill in your skin – cold hands, like he remembered from before – and the heat of his own.

Then, your head on his shoulder. Your legs crossed towards him as you leaned in closer and he made no efforts to move. A gesture like that would have thrown him in a tailspin before he met you; to be this close to someone, to anyone, to sit in the vulnerability of allowing someone to know and feel him.

He looked back up at the sunset. It had nearly dipped below the horizon now; only a few glimpses of color remaining in the sky and the shine of the lamppost just a few feet away.

You sighed in a contented hum, circling your free hand to rest on the inside of his bicep, hooked around his arm. You held him against you like a teddy bear, just wanting to feel more of him.

It was a strange sensation, he thought; this new urge to want to give you as much as his body could offer.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you

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bettsfic · 2 years

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hey, betts, hope you're doing well! always love reading your writing advice. do you think there's a difference in how one approaches outlining fic and original work? i'm talking about long projects in both. i mean, i know fic tends to approach the emotional ground in a different way (and one aspect of it i find interesting is that fic interlinks smut with emotional development while still managing to make the porn legitimately hot), but do you think the scene order would change, for example?

for me, prewriting an original novel is something that usually takes years (in some cases this is also true for short stories). like i'll have an idea for a premise and all the details will have to unveil themselves over time. but with fic, i more or less just dive in. then i get stuck at the 10-25% mark. *then* i outline. the reason i do that is because most of the time i don't know if an idea is worth pursuing, so i have to write a bit of it to figure that out. everyone has their own prewriting process, though, and for some people that involves a lot of up front work, and for others it involves little or none. some your process changes depending on what the work needs. sometimes your process changes over time as you learn and grow as a writer.

that said, i do feel the fundamental difference between ofic and fanfic is the perceived audience. for example, i might write a fic for a very small fandom, but people who enjoy my work may read it without having engaged with the canon at all. but i'm still writing it for a specific canon with the assumption that either the audience will go into it knowing the canon already, or they're fine not knowing. i don't have to introduce the characters or setting or anything, unless those diverge from canon.

with ofic, your reader is coming into the piece on its own merit and as such, doesn't know for certain the piece's inspirations, or if it's responding to another work specifically, unless the piece in some way makes that connection known. that means your reader also doesn't have any emotional ties to your characters or opinions of them. they don't know anything about your world that you don't tell them. sometimes that can be very freeing, but it also entails a lot of work to build the necessary context and details that allow a reader to feel engaged.

as far as scene order goes, no, i don't think that would vary between ofic and fanfic (depending on the genre?), but what would vary is the amount and kind of information/exposition in each scene. in ofic, anything you don't tell the reader they have to make up for themselves. in fanfic, anything you don't tell the reader they default to their knowledge of canon.

to sum up, i don't think the prewriting/outlining stages between fanfic and ofic are inherently different; ofic just involves a totally blank slate whereas fanfiction allows you to pick and choose the things you want to take from canon. i know i've used this analogy before, but it's the difference between playing on a beach versus playing on a playground. the beach is just a bunch of sand and the ocean, and you bring your own toys and make your own fun. with the playground, there's equipment already there for you to use, even though you get to choose how you use it.

i hope this answers your question!

#writing advice

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steven-and-james · 3 years

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It’s 5:47 AM and I’m laying here with this heavy sorrow on my chest. There have now been many, many years of which I’ve spent infatuated with Bucky and Steve’s relationship in the MCU. Growing up queer meant I saw representation very little in mainstream media, causing numerous thoughts of “am I wrong?” and “why isn’t anyone like me?”

However—

There was one exception: Steve and Bucky.

Seeing the first movie in theatres when I was seven years old, Bucky and Steve’s relationship captivated me, their love being the same to me as every love story I was told, except, they were like me.

As I grew older and less naive I accepted that my favorite love story would never truly be “real”—but I never thought Marvel would admit it was, in fact, real, that I wasn’t delusional in projecting my queerness onto the characters, Bucky and Steve were romantic, only for Marvel to then go and give their love story to a heterosexual pairing, one which to them is inherently superior in value to any queer pairing could ever be. And you know what? It fucking hurts.

You may think I’m ridiculous, going off like this on just some “movie”. But you must understand, for me it was never just a movie. I was born in 2004 and grew up with the MCU. My childhood, along with countless others of Gen Z kids’ childhoods, was heavily influenced and defined by the MCU. Marvel was not just movies: it was the toys we played with, the inspiration of our playground games, our Halloween costumes. Marvel is not just a company selling a product, it is aiding in the rearing of generations. And yet, they don’t seem to care.

I never asked for Marvel to make Stucky canon—I knew it would never in a our current society happen: for the largest franchise in the world to have two openly queer characters. All I asked is that they let them rest, that they leave them be so that other queer kids could still get a glimpse of what representation could feel like, as if the world wasn’t made up of cowards. But Marvel has gone and shattered even my most modest wishes. They have finally vindicated my younger queer self, they have confirmed that my love story is real, and they have now outright shit on it, because relationships between men and women will always be more important than any of mine.

I wish Marvel could see this, could hear me, that Kevin Fiege would sit in his million dollar mansion and read this post. So maybe he could understand that for once maybe not every relationship had to be for him and the rest of the marvel higher ups but for the thousands of kids who never see themselves on screen. But, I am not delusional so I know he never will. I’m just stuck lying here in my bed crying over how sad it is that my only love story has been stolen from me from under my feet.

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel #stucky #steve x bucky #steve rogers #captain carter #captain america #bucky barnes #captain america meta #marvel incorrect quotes #captain america incorrect quotes #what if...?#what if #what if..?#peggy carter

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ticklish-touch · 4 years

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I’m With You in the Dark

Last year, I made a poll seeing who would be interested in reading a story about my tickle monster Rags meeting my favorite character in Deltarune, Jevil. Even though I got a very positive response overall, I... chickened out. :’D I've always felt very self-conscious about writing fanfics, especially ones involving my OCs with canon characters. I grew up with other weeb friends who thought fanfic in general was very cringey and taboo. But at the end of the day, as long as people aren't writing about shipping real-life people or kink shit with minors, they have the freedom to write what they want if it helps them express themselves. Ever since last year, Jevil has become a very important character to me. There are hundreds of wonderful creative interpretations of him and his possible backstory; and, as someone who has depersonalization spells, existential thoughts about reality & the universe, enjoys making other people laugh even at my own expense, and a chaotic inner voice that constantly tells me "AREN'T YOU TIRED OF BEING NICE, DON'T YOU JUST WANNA GO APESHIT??" this little gremlin has become a comfort character; one that I also highly enjoy cosplaying. And, frankly, what better year to post a story about nihilism than 2020? 👍 So, this is just a "what-if" scenario, if someone else besides Gaster with some degree of omniscience was able to show the poor jester that there's more to life than just waiting for the Void to take over. And if anyone takes anything away from this, I just want it to be the hope that things will get better. You are allowed to be hopeful, and happy, and make positive connections with people even if you've had harmful experiences with people over past mistakes from either side. We're in this together; you aren't always going to be alone, your suffering won't be in vain. This, too, shall pass. So please, stay determined. Happy Halloween, everyone!! 🎃 🦇 👻 🤡 Story below the cut!

The mischievous Nightmare felt a peculiar pull at his mind as he lurked through the foggy darkness in search of another playmate: A chaotic soul resonating with nearly as much feral playfulness and craving for laughter as his own. But there was something...Off. This mind, this essence, was splintered and broken, re-mended into something different... A shadow of its former self. Joy and mischief and enthusiasm for the world, replaced by existential dread and loneliness...

The silent cry for help brought Ragaeli to a reality he'd never been in: One of the many infinite parallel dimensions to Earth that existed in the endless void of spacetime. At a brief glance, he could see there was a race called Darkners. They seemed to be the joy of childlike imagination brought to life; living, breathing checker and chess pieces, puzzle pieces, stuffed toys and squeaky mallets and lego blocks.

And, within a card castle not unlike the story of Alice in Wonderland, deep within a huge cell locked by powerful magic, a rotund little jester with a black and purple wardrobe was bouncing about, creating myriads of dazzling diamonds, spades, hearts and clovers. He appeared to be an imp with a J-shaped tail, a round noseless face, pointy ears, deep black pits for eyes and serrated, lemon-yellow teeth stretched into a smile as he laughed gleefully to himself.

The Nightmare split open a doorway of crackling energy, leaping through, landing on the indigo striped ground with a THUD. The floor was very plush and unsteady, like the inflated floor of a bouncy castle. "Weellll now, it sure seems like a party in here~ But what kind of party only has one guest, hmm?"

Immediately, the small jester jumped, his head launching out on a spring coil like a Jack-in-the-box. "AIYEEE-!! What, what?! Who are you? Did...Did you escape too??" He glided over to the tall figure, eyeing him over. At first, his lips twitched and seemed as if they were going to form into a frown. But instead he responded with a forced grin. "Uee-hee hee, I see, I see... It seems they've finally replaced little old me~!" He bounced up on his tail to flick playfully at Ragaeli's chest bells, spiraling around him to tug at his flaps, hair and spandex. "Hmmm, not bad~ And you can't go wrong with being a stripey lad; I guess the Kings have some taste after all! But where is your hat?? A jester with no hat is like a witch without their cat!" He glided around behind Ragaeli and his eyes widened. "A hand on your tail?? Now that's just excessive!!" "I must say your rhyme scheme is really quite impressive~" Ragaeli giggled, his head turned 180 degrees to look down at the jester. Jevil couldn't help but giggle too. "Uee hee hee, why thank you, thank you~!" He hovered upside-down in front of the larger monster, summoning a deck of cards, shuffling them up. "The tales must be true, that each suit has two. A black and a red...I always assumed the other must just be dead!!" He snickered, making the cards disappear up his sleeve, then turned back upright, folding his arms, his purple tail lashing about behind him like an agitated cat, his tone twinged with jealousy. "Well since they've decided that red suits their court more, you'd better not be a bore! To replace me is to replace the wittiest of all the players in this castle full of nay-sayers!"

"Hehehe, now, don't get your tail in a twist, I'm no replacement," Ragaeli playfully flicked one of Jevil's bells. "Name's Ragaeli, but you can call me Rags, Ragdoll, Ragtime, Rag-Tag, just don't call me boring, heheh~ I'm not even from this world, you see. Would you believe me when I say there are other worlds out there? Other dimensions?" Jevil giggled at all the nicknames, then his face lit up, his annoyance quickly shifting to curiosity. "Oh yes, yes, I know it to be true!! He chuckled. "Your world, it is a game too? Or is it more "real" than what we can perceive?" Ragaeli raised an eyebrow. "A game, hmm? I suppose you can say that," He smirked. "My world is, in a sense, "Not real" as well. Not to the people of Earth anyways. It's thanks to their thoughts and emotions, their hopeful desires in the depths of their darkest thoughts, that I exist at all. And because of that," His grin turned devilish and he rapped his fingers together in a comically villainous fashion. "I can appear to any of them that I want. I can play all kinds of games with them~ I have no limits to what I can do in my realm, and Earth itself is my playground, a game that will never end~"

The jester listened with fascination, then cackled again, seeming elated as he bounced around in midair. "Oh I'm SO happy!! Someone else finally sees!! There is another who's been set free!!" Then his giddy tone turned to a snarl. "THEY didn't believe me!! THEY were all blind, blind!!" Magic energy crackled around him. "I ONLY wanted to HELP them!! I only wanted them to be privy to the danger, danger they would face if they didn't try to free themselves of this pointless rat race!!" Ragaeli's brow furrowed. "Who's them? Who put you in here? A jolly little hellion like you shouldn't be locked away like this, 'specially if you think your castle's in danger." Jevil quickly shook his head, puffing his chest out indignantly. "It is not I that has been locked away! They chose their own prison, they dug their own graves! The court wouldn't listen, they didn't want to play, and now for their bullheadedness THEY'RE the ones having to pay!!"

The Nightmare latched onto the images flashing through Jevil's mind, learning bits and pieces about the royal court that ruled the dark castle. It definitely appeared that things were in disarray, and the court jester's loneliness bubbled into a well of resentment... The continued rush of memories manifested into the image of a strange entity that came to the jester before his imprisonment: A ghostly creature, cloaked in inky blackness, with large round holes in his skeletal hands and a twisted grin frozen on his skull-like head, a single white pupil glowing out from the cracked eyesockets with a sickly light. Even the Nightmare, who had seen every hellish iteration of fear and hatred, knew that this...thing, was bad news. He existed, yet was nonexistant. He was fractured across all of time and space, yet remained trapped unmoving inside the Void. He was filled with hopelessness, bitterness, egoism, an unyielding ambition to drag anything and everything down into the same all-consuming darkness. An unfortunate victim of his own hubris, now a sociopath with cold disregard for individual worth except the desire to dissect everything and everyone he could latch onto. And it happened that Jevil, who craved mischief and adventure and purpose in his seemingly small role in the kingdom, was the latest test subject. Ragaeli's hair stood up on end and a low, near demonic growl rumbled in his throat. "And what, exactly, did this thing show you?" The growl made Jevil gasp, stopping him in his tracks, looking up at the large entity with trepidation. "H-He showed me everything, everything!! He showed me the beginning, the end of all things, he showed me the truth of this world and all worlds in the cosmos, that nothing is as it seems, nothing means anything, but because anything can be nothing, nothing can be everything--" "Alright, enough, I'm stopping you right there, Lovecraft," In a swift movement, he tugged the rim of Jevil's hat over his face. "YEEE- H-HEY!!" The frazzled jester fixed his hat, puffing his cheeks out at Ragaeli, his tail whipping about even more wildly. "Whoever this Wing-dinged handy-man is sure isn't very handy if all he can do is fill your head with nihilistic nonsense," Ragaeli stuck out his tongue. "Sounds like someone who had a rotten time of it is now trying to ruin everyone else's fun." "No, no, not at all!!" Jevil leapt on top of Ragaeli's head and perched like a cat. "Because of him, I can have more fun than I ever thought possible!! You'll see, you'll see!! They're bringing back the key!!" He giggled madly. "Three visitors, all questing in vain to bring an end to a game that doesn't matter, and once I am back inside their world of lies I will spread my truth everywhere and everyone will thank me!!" He cackled. "But first I should thank you for keeping me company~" He leapt off and glided in front of the Nightmare. From the center of his dark eyes, yellow irises began to glow brightly. "It's been so long since someone has lent an ear, so I'll show you my favorite game~" In a flash, he launched a glowing diamond, sharp as a sword, at the speed of a flying bullet into Ragaeli's stomach.

But the diamond disappeared on contact. Instead of yelping in pain, Ragaeli shrieked and doubled over as the energy shot a ticklish burst through him. "GYEEEE-HEEHEE!!" Jevil looked baffled. "...What, what?? Laughter?" He tilted his head, summoning a spinning barrage of clubs that shot at Ragaeli's legs, chest and sides like machine gun ammunition. And again, the Nightmare was bombarded with a barrage of ticklish electricity, causing him to crumple on the plush floor with cackling laughter. "AIYEEE-HAHAHAHA!!" After the sensation wore off, he continued to let out giddy laughter as he saw Jevil's incredulous expression. "WHOOO-WEE, now that was a good one!!" Jevil couldn't help but snort back his own laughter at the Nightmare's comical reactions, but he seemed even more puzzled. "Is someone ticklish, ticklish? That isn't how I'm trying to play, but it makes things interesting, needless to say~" He giggled a bit. "But then...How am I supposed to play my game if you've got no numbers to claim??" Ragaeli shook his head, jumping up into the air to recline as if laying back on a sofa. "You silly little imp, do you really think that's the only way to play with others? Taking this "HP" until they're gone for good? What would you do then when there's no-one left to have fun with?" He gave a pout. Jevil shook his head quickly. "No no, they're not really gone!! Weren't you listening, listening?? It's all a game!! They can come back!! Losing is just a minor setback~!"

The Nightmare raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?" "Because the Stranger showed me!! He can mess with the code, he can change--" "How do YOU know that?" Ragaeli barked. "Forget about him, can YOU bring them back??" Jevil shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not, but if they lose then that's just how it goes~ Such is the way of this game we all play!" The Nightmare rolled his eyes. "So... you wanna play by the game's rules, huh? How boring."

The jester's malicious snickering immediately stopped, and he stiffened up. Ragaeli narrowed his gaze, prying at the jester's mind a bit more. "What is it you've said? You can do anything? So why not shake it up and take this game into your own hands? If you're really free, then PROVE it!"

For once, the manic jester took pause.

"Think about what it is YOU want in this game we all call life!"

Jevil lifted a gloved finger, unable to answer at first. Then his bright yellow irises faded again. "What I want...?" He lowered his head. "What I want..." A quiet giggle bubbled up from inside him. "I just want them to be free, free with me..." He hovered higher, seeming to vibrate with an intense magical aura, and raised his arms. The room began to spin around the central pole, as if it were revolving around the world's axis. "To break their cage and create a NEW stage, where everyone can play, play to their heart's content!! Free from this kingdom of rules and lies!!" He snarled. "I want them to PAY for making me play in my freedom all alone, every night and every day!!" He bellowed. Carnival music began to emanate from all around them, starting quiet then gaining in tempo. "I want them to say, "To HELL with rules, I will break these chains and embrace the chaos, CHAOS!!" He laughed maniacally, and from every curve of the rounded ceiling, more of his symbols appeared; Hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs, all aimed at Ragaeli, launching toward him like speeding bullets. The Nightmare answered with his own giddy laugh. "Ohhh, how interesting! Well then, let's play for a while and I might just help you make your wish come true~!" He nonchalantly bounded away from the trajectory of the magic, dodging, swooping, teleporting and even dancing and pirouetting away. Occasionally they would hit, and once again he would shriek in surprise and burst into laughter. "GYAAAH-HAHAHAHA!!" Jevil giggled, no longer bothered that his attacks weren't causing any 'HP' damage. "I wonder; How long will it take before you finally break~?" The Nightmare smirked dangerously. "I could ask you the same thing!" His hair suddenly jumped to life, tendrils leaping forward and bombarding the jester's chubby belly, sending electric pulses of ticklishness through him.

"UEEEE-HEE-HEEEE!!" Jevil shrieked with laughter and flailed for a moment before poofing himself to the other side of the room. A bright purple blush filled his cheeks and he clutched his belly, gawking at Ragaeli. "N...NO FAIR, NO FAIR!! IT WASN'T YOUR TURN YET!!" Ragaeli giggled. "You really think a tickle monster is gonna play fair? Now what's the fun in that~?" Jevil huffed and his pout shifted to a malicious grin. "Uee hee hee; Fine, fine, I also won't play fair!! Let's see you laugh about THIS!" With a flash, he summoned a large ornate striped sickle, teleporting close and taking a swift swing at Ragaeli, catching him in the middle of the striped pattern on his leotard. The Nightmare's torso came clean off his legs, not with any blood or guts but with a cartoonish POP. "WHOA!! Caught me off guard with that one, took my top clean off ya did!!" His tone went cockney, and he grabbed his legs and re-attached them as if he'd been de-pantsed.

Jevil balked, then doubled over backwards with laughter. "HYEE-HEEHEE HAHAHAH Oh my stahahars, you're a fun one, you are!!" His scythe disappeared with a flash, a new wave of glee bubbling up in him. "You really are like me!! Your body cannot be killed!! That means you can stay here and play as long as we want!! I'm so THRILLED!!" He laughed with jubilation and raised his arms, and from the walls emerged a bizarre set of carousel horses, with the bodies of rubber ducks, all of which began to circle rapidly around the room. "Go ahead, hop on~! But better watch out, these horsies have a mean bite~"

The Nightmare snickered and dove into a cartwheel, throwing himself onto the back of one of the figures, which tried to toss him off like a bucking bronco. "Piece of cake, I've wrangled a few horsies in my d-AAGH!!" He was swiftly knocked off by a flying duck ramming him at full force, sending him careening into the spinning walls of the room. He bounced off of the squishy surface and lay crumpled in a heap, cracking up with hyena-like hysterics. Jevil, too, giggled hysterically at his opponent's prat-fall. It felt so grand to finally have someone to play with again!!

And so, their antics continued. Jevil came at Ragaeli with everything he had, and the Nightmare almost effortlessly parried it away with his meaty hands or flexible limbs. As Jevil revealed more and more tricks up his sleeve, from his ability to shapeshift into his own scythe, to a downright unfair barrage of clover-shaped bullets, Ragaeli revealed that his tail could multiply into three, which crackled with red sparks; They lunged forward and managed to ensnare the manic jester, slithering against his round belly and backs of his knees, even slipping one of his shoes off to entwine their prongs between his clawed toes. "AIYEEE-HEEHEEEE UEE-HEEHEE NOOOHOHOHOOO-HEEHEE!!" The ticklish shock to his system surprised the jester enough that his head launched out on its spring coil, before retreating back for him to grab the ends of his hat and hide his flushed face and goofy smile.

The Nightmare snickered fiendishly at his reactions. "What's wrong~? Surely the court-appointed master of laughter can handle a little tickling?" The playful taunting just flabbergasted the thrashing imp all the more. Not because he hated it; but because he, the clever jester with an unholy amount of magic energy had never been so easily bested by something that wasn't a physical fight... And on some level, it was thrilling. It felt so good to laugh with such passion; Real, true laughter, instead of a hollow imitation of happiness. Being unable to focus on anything but their game, on the consequences of each other's "attacks", took his mind off the dreadful, existential thoughts that plagued him, and made him think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to his and this world's existence after all...

But in the meantime, it was his turn, and he was ready for revenge. He poofed himself out of the nightmare's tendrils and re-appeared underneath him, turning his scythe into a rubber mallet to send Ragaeli flying up near the ceiling. He smiled wickedly, summoning a barrage of attacks that started to morph into vaguely hand and feather-like shapes. With a clap of his hands, they rocketed up to the Nightmare, burying into his belly, ribs and armpits, slithering down the wide collar of his leotard, trapping his ankles into cuffs so that they could saw between his toes and whirl against his soles like fuzzy sawblades. The onslaught caused the monster to howl and screech with hysteria, thrashing and swatting at the symbols in vain. "GYEEEE-HEHEHEHEHEH WHY Y-YOHOHOHOUUU-HAHAHAHA~!!" Jevil giggled devilishly. "Uee-heeheee, what's wrong, what's wrong~? You're the Tickle Monster, are you not? Or were you lying all along? Can't handle being at the wrong end of your own fiendish plot~?" Ragaeli snarled in his laughter, attempting to swat at the jester with his tails. "GRAAHH-HAHAHAH SH-SHUHUHUHUT UHUHUP YOU L-LIHIHITTLE-!!" And yet, despite his protests at the unbearable attack, the Nightmare's laughter, too, resonated with excitement and elation. It echoed through the vast cell, emanating with such unbridled joy and wild abandon that it stirred something inside of Jevil. Something...Warm, and oddly reassuring. And finally, from the depths of the jester's scrambled mind, memories started to return to him...

He once knew laughter as well, and more than that, making others laugh. The four Kings, laughing at his antics in the court; young Rudinns and Jigsawrys and a baby Clover, all laughing gleefully at his dazzling displays of card symbols, dancing ribbons and fireworks. The dancers in the halls laughing as the court jester pulled prank after prank on the uptight dolt Rouxls Kaard. The Spade King, telling him how eager he was for his son to be born, so that Jevil could teach him how to spread joy through the kingdom. And Seam, his dear friend, letting out a rare gem of laughter whenever he said a silly joke or snuck up on the wooly cat and tickled his sides...

Before long, Jevil's magic was no longer set to kill mode; a fact that wouldn't have affected the reality-bending Nightmare made of laughter either way, but others caught in the crossfire would no longer be in danger of a "game over". His will began to shift, and now his projectiles were imbued with the overwhelming urge to make their target crumble into a heap of elated laughter. Perfect. Ragaeli grinned gleefully, snapping his fingers and poofing himself out of the hold of the magic symbols, standing to face Jevil, folding his arms behind his head. "Well now, seems like something's getting through to that polyvinyl noggin of yours--" That brief moment was all Jevil needed to re-appear behind him, lunging to rapidly scribble his fingers and prod his tail along Ragaeli's belly, snickering to himself. "You so easily let your guard down!! I thought I was the clown!!" "GYAA-HAHAHAHA!! TH-THAT WAS ON PURPOHOHOSE!!" Ragaeli slithered his pronged tail up to scribble against Jevil's 'neck' and pointy ears, sending him flying back on his spring-coil with a yowl.

Jevil wasn't sure how long their game went on. Minutes, hours, days? Time never meant much of anything in his personal freedom; But now, he never wanted it to end. If those three adventurers did ever come back with the key, this would be quite the sight to walk in on... Before long, though, the jester's 'attacks' were weakening, and his large tongue hung out with panting breaths; it became harder for him to levitate, or to tap out from the tickle monster's ruthless attacks; Ragaeli could sense his growing fatigue and eventually stopped, letting Jevil collapse to the bouncy floor.

"H-Hee-hehehe...That was fun, fun!! But enough is enough, you tired me up!" He giggled, but his grin turned to a pout. "But I don't want to sleep yet, I still want to play with everyone, everyone..." "Ohh, I think that can be arranged~" Ragaeli's hand sparked and crackled with magic, making Jevil instinctively squeak and flinch. But he shook his head. "Hehe, don't be worried~ This will give your energy back." But he closed his fist and extinguished the magic. "But hear me out first. If you play to take away everyone's HP, they won't want to play with you. They'll just put you down here again." Jevil snorted and folded his arms. "Well at least I wouldn't be caged in their prison again, again..." Ragaeli could still sense negative thoughts plaguing his mind.

Not real. Meaningless. Trapped. Just a game. Not wanted, not needed. Afraid of me. They'll leave me again, again. Seam will leave me again.

At the very least, these thoughts weren't as loud as before, and were being dulled by the hope that perhaps he could be welcomed back by everyone... Ragaeli narrowed his gaze and snuck his hair tendrils over to prod along his round belly and sides again. "UEEE-HEEEHEEE!!" He rolled over to the other side, hiding his flushed face again. "Heheh, come on now, no need to hide that face every time I get a laugh outta you~" He managed to tug the jester's hat off, revealing short, dark curly hair and a small pair of horns. Jevil gasped, his eyes going wide and he reached over frantically trying to grab his hat back. "HEYY!! Just because you forgot yours doesn't mean mine's up for grabs!!" Ragaeli chuckled. "Relax, you'll get it back, if you listen to me first. There's no use letting those thoughts get in the way of your fun, now is there? Even if you live your life 'confined' with the others, at least you'd still have playmates, right? You still have the chance to make amends and show your friends you're not going to let your story end. ...See, now I've been hangin' around you too long. You're turning me into a natural poet~" The sulky jester couldn't help but snicker. "Even if I did, even if they want to be my friend, I can never see this world the same way again, again..." He trembled. "The vision, the prophecy... The skies will darken, the world will crack, the calamity will sweep away all in it's path...No matter how many broken bonds we try to mend; Whether we play or flee, everything will end!!" He choked back a wail, hiding his face in his palms, his pointy ears drooping back.

Ragaeli rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, scratching his head thoughtfully for a moment. "Look; Of course things aren't gonna be the same. Of course things end someday. That's the point of LIVING!" The Nightmare barked and jumped up, causing another loud THUD as he stooped over on his haunches like an agitated mountain lion. "You change and you grow and you LIVE, despite how tiny or messed up you think your existence is. You CHALLENGE anything or anyone who tries to tell you that you can't find your way outta that dark tunnel. Fake? Real? Who CARES?? You're HERE! Your life is only meaningless if YOU choose to live it without meaning!!" Jevil peeked out from under his hands as the deity ranted. He then scoffed, taking his tail and fiddling with it as he avoided Ragaeli's eye contact. "That's easy enough for you to say. Your existence, your world, isn't made to be a game for OTHERS to play."

Ragaeli calmed down a little, patting his hair sympathetically and tweaking one of his horns. "Listen, Jev-In-The-Box. You're right about one thing. You can't change the circumstances that brought you into being. And sometimes, that really sucks." He frowned. "It sucks for those little mortals who have such little control over the society that keeps 'em prisoner. And even for someone like me...I can't change the fact that I come from a world that wouldn't exist without mortals. Any Nightmare can disappear in the blink of an eye if they aren't remembered by enough people." "Really..??" Ragaeli nodded. "That's why some of 'em try so hard to be remembered, even if it means playing with humans like cats torturing mice before they eat 'em. And I can't make them value life. But I also can't let them freely roam the world that imagined us up, or reality as we know it would fall apart. I can't even stay in other timelines or realities too long or I risk fading away for good." Jevil listened curiously, a hint of a concerned frown crossing his face. The deity shrugged. "So I just make the best of it, y'know? I have fun showing other people that their world isn't as small and hopeless as they think." The thoughtful expression left the entity's face as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a devilish grin. "So YOU had better not let me catch you moping about in those gloomy thoughts of yours again," he poked Jevil's plush belly, making the jester squeal and bat his hand away. The Nightmare snickered. "And if I see you trying to end other people's game instead of finding ways to make laughter and excitement a part of your reality... Then I WILL be back, and I'll show you what it really means to be ticklish~" He narrowed his gaze and cracked his knuckles loudly, his body emanating with an aura of electric energy, his hair tendrils raising into the air like cobras poised to strike, wriggling their fingers and forming into bristles.

Jevil shrieked and quickly scrambled back. "YEEEP-!! ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALREADY, I GET IT I GET IT!!" The jester first pouted at being told what to do. But something about the strange monster's words...Felt to be true.

Ragaeli chuckled, his hair calming back down. "Of course, that doesn't mean there's no fun to be had in a bit of harmless chase," he flashed a devious grin. "You can make them pay, without making them go away, so that way you can all play again and again~ The eventual catch can be the best pay-off of all~" The implication of the tickle monster's words started to sink in. A Grinch-like smile started to spread across the imp's face as terrible schemes came to his mind. He could play a game of 'Surrender' with anyone, anytime, and they wouldn't have to lose their HP over it. It could be one big game of hide-and-tickle, or tickle tag, or a test of endurance, or another way for the King to interrogate outsiders about Lightners... Sensing that his thoughts had changed their tune, Nightmare gave him back his hat...And transferred a surplus of magic energy fueled by laughter, adrenaline and mischief to replenish his strength.

Jevil gasped as if surfacing for a breath of fresh air, then giggled and sprung to his feet. "Fine, you've won me over, I hope you're happy! But I think we'll have to wait until the Lightners return with that key. Once they do, I'll wreak havoc in that boring little prison of theirs and this Joker will be the one to have the last laugh~!" He giggled fiendishly and rubbed his hands together, bouncing impatiently in place.

Ragaeli smirked. "Hehe, no need to wait for a key. Prisoners break themselves out all the time, so why not just break in~?" He hopped over to the door, grasped his large hand around the bars, his hand emanating with crackling magic again... And the lock popped open with a click. Jevil went slack-jawed. "Wowee!! You really are strong! I can't even best Seam's magic enchantments at full strength!" he then cleared his throat. "That isn't to say I couldn't have broken in all along. I just didn't want to is all," he shrugged and stuck his tongue out. "So now it's time to say...SO LONG!!" He cackled maniacally and shot like a bullet out of the door.

When he flung himself from inside the cell, he saw the three travellers from earlier, now gawking up at him incredulously. "W-What the-?!" Susie and Ralsei's eyes went wide. Jevil instantly pounced them, rapidly bombarding them with scribbling fingers, rapid pokes and his tail slithering between their limbs. Shrieks of startled laughter answered him, even from the quiet, stoic one. They were too preoccupied with trying to flail away to notice the jester snatch the key out from under their noses. As soon as he had it, he stopped and hovered above them. Susie panted for a minute. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!!" she snarled, brandishing her axe. "H-How did you get out?!" Ralsei questioned. "I thought you needed the key??" Jevil merely answered with a wild grin, focusing his power in his hands until the key sparkled and crackled with his magic...And shattered into hundreds of tiny shards. Without another word, he rocketed up the winding stone steps, laughing incomprehensibly. "WH...WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Susie shouted. "I don't...think that was supposed to happen..." Ralsei scratched his head through his hat. Kris just shrugged, and Susie grumbled. "We went through all that shit just to get the key and he didn't even NEED it!! I'm getting real damn sick of this stupid castle!!" She pounded the handle of her ax into the ground, huffing loudly. Ralsei frowned. "Well, don't worry about him. I think it's time we go find Lancer, yeah?" At this, Susie calmed down a little, sighing. "Yeah, you're right. We've kept him waiting long enough. Some mystery prisoner isn't any of our damn business."

It was already too late, regardless of whether the heroes tried to go after him. The jester's second reign of chaos was swift and sudden. He ricocheted through the castle, his manical laughter echoing through every hallway, his bursts of magic visible like fireworks in the distance, his devilsknife and his magic attacks shapeshifting into other "weapons" like giant featherdusters, scrubbing brushes and makeshift hands. At first the guards were horrified that the infamous prisoner had escaped. But once they were reduced to shrieks of laughter and pleading and apologies, and Jevil declared victory before bee-lining to his next target and eventually leaving the castle, the denizens of the Darkner world were left flabbergasted, nervous, and perhaps even amused and curious to see if this "dangerous criminal" would return for more...

Ragaeli watched the commotion smugly as he started to fade back to his realm. "Oh dear, it appears I've created a monster~"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You make your way back down the elevator and stairs. You double-check your items, use the save point, and.... What the hell? The dungeon door is gone! Is this an easter egg of some kind? Did the game glitch out? You check your items again... The key is gone too. Okay, something must be wrong. Before you make the decision to replay the whole game just for the hidden boss, you head back to Seam. Maybe talking to him again will re-trigger the events needed for fixing the key?

But when you go inside the "Seap", it isn't just Seam anymore. The secret boss, Jevil, now has a full sprite, grinning gleefully at the player.

[ * UEE HEE HEE, WELCOME, WELCOME LIGHTNERS! SO SORRY WE DIDN'T GET TO PLAY, PLAY. MAYBE ANOTHER DAY! ]

You talk to Seam first, triggering his usual dialogue about how Jevil ended up in the dungeon, and how the heroes would eventually have to face the Knight. And, interestingly, an additional bit of dialogue explaining how the heroes just missed Jevil's "escape", and how his reunion with his old friend was filled with a great deal of laughs... Talking to Jevil afterwards brings up more dialogue. You ask him how he got out of the dungeon.

[ *YES, YES, I SUPPOSE I SHOULD EXPLAIN THAT KEY. I HAD ANOTHER STRANGER COME TO ME! ]

[ *BUT THIS ONE DID NOT MAKE ME FEEL SO AIMLESS. IN FACT, HE SHOWED ME THAT I WOULD HAVE MADE QUITE A MESS! ]

[ * THIS MAY ALL JUST BE A GAME, AND YOU... YES, YOU OUT THERE...]

His sprite momentarily came closer, his yellow irises seeming to bore right into you through your screen...

[ * -MAY HAVE MORE SAY IN WHAT RIGHTS WE CAN OR CANNOT FLAUNT. BUT I THINK, EVEN IN THIS PRISON, WE CAN STILL BE HAPPY, HAPPY, AND PLAY AS MUCH AS WE WANT! ]

[ * WHO IS REAL, AND WHO IS NOT? I DON'T THINK THAT MATTERS ANYMORE, ANYMORE. ]

[ * THAT SILLY RED MONSTER, WHO LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AND REMINDED ME THAT THIS WORLD DOES NOT HAVE TO BE A BORE...]

[ * THE STRANGE WORDS HE SAID HAVE STUCK INSIDE MY SPRINGS. NOW MY VIEW ON THIS WORLD HAS BECOME JUST A LITTLE LIGHTER... ]

[ * AND I'M CURIOUSER, AND CURIOUSER, TO SEE WHAT THE FUTURE BRINGS~! ]

#tickle fic #jevil #fanfic #tickle monster #monster boy #jester #clown #tickle fanfic #tickling #male tickling #tickle story

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goldgalaxytea-fanfics · 4 years

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Where have the times gone?

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: My Hero Academia/Boko No Hero Academia

Relationship: Katsuki Bakugou x Izuku Midoriya

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou, Izuku Midoriya, Inko Midoriya, Mitsuki Bakugou, Ochako Uraraka, Shouto Todoroki, Tenya Iida, Tsuyu Asui, Mina Ashido, Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero, Eijirou Kirishima, Original Villain Character

Additional Tags: Future AU, Timeskip AU, Mutual Pining, Training, Future/Timeskip AU, Rivals to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Practice fight, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reunions, seasons of anime exchange 2020, Injury, Injury Recovery, Actual Fight, SofA 2020, Gift Fic, Gift Work, Canon-Typical Violence, Idiots in Love, Pining Bakugou Katsuk, iPining Midoriya Izuku, Useless Gays, Crying, Angst, Fic Exchange, Non-Graphic Violence, Oblivious, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, Adult Bakugou Katsuki, Adult Midoriya Izuku, Aged-Up Character(s)

Words: 2,545

Summary:

“Universal Truth: If Truth means a statement the content of which corresponds to reality, and if Universal means always and everywhere then a Universal Truth is a statement which corresponds to reality regardless of time and space. An example might be ten is greater than five - not exactly profound, but always true.”

The fact that Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou loved each other was a Universal Truth. Yet somehow everyone except them knew it.

Author’s Notes:

This is a gift for Mahokoyuki for the @seasons-of-anime-exchange 2020! I hope you enjoy your gift!!!💖 I had a lot of fun writing it!!!😊💕

(Title from "Payphone" by Maroon 5)

Universal Truth: If Truth means a statement the content of which corresponds to reality, and if Universal means always and everywhere then a Universal Truth is a statement which corresponds to reality regardless of time and space. An example might be ten is greater than five - not exactly profound, but always true.

The fact that Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou loved each other was a Universal Truth. Yet somehow everyone except them knew it.

Deku and Kacchan had been inseparable as kids. Both child’s parents could see as clear as day that the toddlers greatly cared about each other. Every opportunity they had they were with each other.

At school they sat beside each other, never letting the teacher separate their seats. After school they ran and played at the playground, joyful laughter and screams piercing through the air. At each other's homes they spent hours having fun in their very own world; chatting about whatever random thing popped into their little minds, pretending to be heroes and villains locked in a glorious battle, making up stories and creating worlds as they played with their toys.

When the day finally came to an end both mothers had to practically pry their crying kids from each other. Both would cling to the other, not wanting the fun to end quite yet.

The earth trembled and ripped a bottomless chasm between them the day Bakugou got his quirk. Hours spent together turned into minutes. Most of their time was now spent apart, Bakugou with his new friends and Midoriya with his. The two still occasionally spoke with each other, but instead of the kind words of imagination it was the cruel words of reality. They were no longer friends. Bakugou no longer loved his childhood friend, yet Midoriya still loved him.

The chasm only grew wider throughout their years at Aldera Junior High. Hours spent together turned into minutes and the words exchanged grew even harasher. Despite the way Bakugou treated him, Midoriya couldn't extinguish his love for his lost friend. He missed the explosive blonde and wished they could be friends again, but Bakugou was long gone.

Their first year of U.A. High School was rough and bumpy. Bakugou still antagonized the green haired boy who still clung to the empty shell of their friendship. Despite the death grip Midoriya had on their strained relationship he still had come to terms with the fact that his old friend was long gone. So despite the small flame of hope he held close to his heart he set out to better himself, to grow into the hero he longed to be, to no longer let the angry blonde hold him back.

Their classmates watched them bump heads the first half of year one. Despite the two growing apart and making new friends they still somehow always drifted back to each other. Paired up during training, their friend groups hanging out together, somehow next to each other during fights.

Slowly that tiny flame received some kindling. Throughout the year Bakugou was struck in the metaphorical head with quite a few reality checks. He was forced to grow and change for the better. He was still loud and angry but he wasn't mean or thought himself better then everyone. By the end of their first year that tiny flame was now a roaring fire.

Over the course of their next two years at U.A. Bakugou and Midoriya mended their broken friendship. At first an awkward tension hung in the air between them, but slowly that dispersed and a familiar warmth emerged. It wasn't the same as when they were kids, but it was leagues better than when they were in middle school.

Within their new found friendship something new began to bloom. Butterflies fluttering in their stomachs, hearts skipping beats for unexplained reasons, light dusting of pink on their pale cheeks. Everyone in their class knew they were in love, yet both seemed oblivious to that fact.

Both heroes in training were too scared to confess, afraid to lose their best friend for a second time. So they stayed silent, secretly pining for each other. At times it was hard for their classmates to watch, yet there was nothing they could do. This matter was between the blonde and green haired boy.

Despite their best efforts their feelings still lead to losing each other once more. After their graduation the two young men drifted apart. From weekly hang outs, to monthly to once a year. They blamed it on being busy sidekicks, then busy pro-heroes, then just being too tired from all the intense work they had to do; but they were just flimsy excuses of two scared men.

In their time apart they each tried to rid themselves of their suffering. Countless dates ending in failures, relationships that didn't last, crushes that didn't even make it off the ground. Nothing could make their feelings go away.

Somehow despite the distance, Katsuki and Izuku still loved each other.

🧡◯◯◯◯💚

It wasn't until a few years later that fate finally brought them back together.

The pro-heroes worked at hero agencies they had each created with their friends. Ground Zero worked alongside Red Riot, Chargebolt, Pinky and Cellophane while Deku worked alongside Shoto, Uravity, Froppy and Imperium. Both hero agencies didn’t see much of the other while on duty, but after the clock they hung out whenever their schedules allowed it (with the exception of their two oblivious friends).

That careful routine was uplifted and rearranged when both angeices decided to work together for a mission. A dangerous villain, Earth Breaker, was causing havoc in Musutafu. Their quirk, Earthquake, allowed them to make the ground they touched tremble. Earthquakes had been reported all over the city in the past week, destruction leaving room for the villain to take whatever they wanted from their target while everyone fled to safety. No info was known about the villain besides their quirk and short height. They draped themselves in baggy black clothes and a mask, hiding anything that could be used to identify them. This villain was clever, taking them down would require the best of the best.

That’s what led Deku to Bakugou’s agency this morning. They had changed a lot since they had last seen each other; both a little bit taller, more muscular, wearing slightly different hero costume designs. Yet despite everything that had changed the tension still lingered between them, glaringly obvious while the heroes discussed plans on how to take down Earth Breaker. The air between them could be cut with a knife, yet if their friends noticed they politely ignored it just like the two hopeless idiots did.

After the meeting the other heroes quickly dispersed, leaving Bakugou and Deku alone. Silence filled the space, both men tried to break it at once.

“Hey Kacchan, how have you been?” “So, how are things with you?”

Nervous laughter escaped Deku’s lips while Bakugou grunted and stood up.

“I um, have training I need to do so; see ya later, nerd.” The blonde made his way to leave but was quickly stopped by the green haired man.

“Oh! What a consequence! I was going to train too, mind if we train together?”

Silence once again claimed them, eyes never leaving each other as the explosive man pondered the question. Everything screamed it was a bad idea, this would only make his suffering worse. Yet he couldn’t say no to him.

“Sure, let’s go.” Bakugou gestures for him to follow, Deku eagerly doing so.

When they got to the training ground it was empty of any life besides them. Without a word they readied themselves for a fight. There was no spoken go, despite the years apart they were still in sync with one another.

Fists flew, legs kicked, bodies jumped, quirks fired. No punches were held as they fought. They had trained numerous times together back in their years at U.A. High. By now they knew each other's moves by heart, both easily able to avoid harming the other. Though it had been a few years since they’d last trained together, they each had some new tricks up their sleeves.

That lapse in info resulted in Bakugou manganging to get the upper hand, a perfectly planned swipe of the leg sending Deku to the ground. The blonde quickly pinning the other in place, winning their little sparring match.

The two heroes didn’t realize their position, too busy trying to regain their breaths. As the air refills their lungs it's swiftly stolen from them once again. Gradually the implications of their position sinks in. Deku is sprawled on his back, his hands held above his head by the blonde straddling his hips. Their cheeks flush crimson yet neither make an attempt to move away. Slowly but surely their eyes fell closed, mouths drifting closer and closer and-

The door to the training ground burst open loudly, the sounds of casual conversation shattering the silent atmosphere. Bakugou jolted away from Deku, quickly jumping to his feet and swiftly walked towards the door.

“Hey Bakubro! Want to train with us?” The blonde brushed past the spiky red head, pointedly ignoring the stares from him and the rest of their friends. Bakuogu exited the room without responding. “What’s his deal?”

The group took in the sight of Deku still laying on the ground, eyes wide like a deer in headlights as his face burned red. Understanding washed over them.

“Ah! Sorry Deku! We didn’t mean to interrupt you two!” Uraraka rushed over, apologizing profusely and helping him to his feet.

“It’s okay! You weren’t interrupting anything!” Deku refused to meet any of their eyes.

“Really?” Shoto’s brows were raised high. “It looked like you guys were finally going to kiss.”

“It did! PLEASE tell me you two were about to kiss. I’m not sure how much longer we can watch you idiots pine after each other.” Mina continued to ramble while Deku was struck with a realization. Kacchan had leaned into the almost kiss as well, Kacchan liked him too.

It took Izuku Midoriya 25 years to learn the Universal Truth that everyone around him had known all along.

◯🧡◯◯💚◯

The next day, Deku had a plan. When he sees Kacchan he is going to get him alone and confess to him. They’ve waited so many years for this moment, he wasn’t going to wait another day. So when he entered Bakugou’s agency that morning he immediately headed towards the spiky blonde. Deku found him chatting with Kaminari and Sero, though a better word might be arguing. Bakugou was glaring at his friends while they countered with mischievous grins. The group quickly went silent as Deku approached. Sero turned to leave, waving goodbye while dragging Kaminari along with him. The electric man shot them a wink and a thumbs up before disappearing. Deku cleared his throat.

“Hey Kacchan, can I talk with you? Like alone, just the two of us?” The green haired man questioned, desperately trying to not turn 50 shades of red. The other man opened his mouth to answer, but alarms cut off his response. Sirens wailed and lights flashed, there was a villain attacking the city. All the heroes present quickly prepared themselves and raced towards the scene.

Earth Breaker was wreaking chaos, their earthquakes collapsing buildings left and right. The pro-heroes were in motion as soon as they arrived, swiftly freeing civilians and evacuating them. No one knew where the villain was, yet they could feel the effects of their quirk no matter where they were. The heroes split into teams of two; Uravity & Froppy, Shoto & Imperium, Pinky & Red Riot, Chargebolt & Cellophane; and of course, Ground Zero & Deku. Each group went in different directions to help as many people as possible.

Bakugou and Deku made quick work of helping the civilians in their section. Though the farther they journeyed the harder it got, the tremors increasing in strength as they went. By the time they saved everyone from their part of the disaster zone, Earth Breaker was upon them.

Before they knew it the ground crumbled beneath them. Quick like lightning they jumped, launching themselves to stable ground.

Their relief however, was short lived. The building above them cracked, a large chunk coming loose and plummeting towards the ground. Straight towards Deku.

Though the green haired hero didn't notice it, he was too preoccupied battling the mysterious villain; but Bakugou saw it, and without thinking he pushed Deku out of the way of the incoming debris.

Deku landed safely out of harm's way, while Bakugou was crushed in his place.

Deku saw red.

He didn't remember taking down Earth Breaker, nor did he remember collapsing to his knees next to the injured blonde.

Deku quickly snapped out of his dazed state, checking the state of his partner. The explosive hero was alright, luckily the debris had only hit one of his legs. Though he wasn't able to free himself and was rapidly losing consciousness from the onslaught of horrendous pain.

“Hey, hey! Stay awake Kacchan, it's going to be okay! I’m going to get you out of here.” Deku used his quirk to carefully free the trapped man. Bakugou hissed at the pain as the rubble shifted off of him. Deku winced as he lifted the injured man, carefully holding him bridal style. He walked as quickly as he could without provoking Bakugou’s wounds towards the nearest ambulance. “I’m so sorry, this isn’t how today was supposed to go. I should’ve been paying more attention, then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I’m so sorry-”

“Oi shut the hell up.” Bakugou groaned. “I’m fine, it wasn’t anything too major. Though that doesn’t matter…” His speech was starting to slur, sleep over taking him. “I’d do it a hundred times again just for you.” And with that he was out.

Deku’s eyes fought back tears, refusing to let them blur his view in case he dropped the unconscious man in his arms. As soon as he reached an ambulance they loaded Bakugou in with Deku beside him while they refused towards the hospital.

◯◯🧡💚◯◯

At the hospital Bakugou is quickly attended to and healed, much to his everyone’s relief. Afterwards the blonde slept like the dead, his body regaining the energy he had lost. Deku was by his side as soon as visitors were allowed, waiting patiently for him to wake up.

Luckily the explosive hero wakes up only a few hours later. As soon as red eyes flutter open Deku launches himself at Bakugou, arms wrapped tightly around him.

“You’re awake! I’m so happy you’re okay! I-” Deku mumbled into the man’s chest. Bakugou stopped his rambling with a flick to his green head.

“Oi calm down. You’re acting like I almost died.” Despite his rough words his voice and face were soft, as were the arms that wrapped around the tearful man in his arms. His voice was nearly a whisper as he mumbled into the green locks tickling his face. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Deku spoke, just as softly. “I always have.”

The fact that Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou loved each other was a Universal Truth, and it was a fact they now both knew.

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alicedoessurveys · 3 years

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Doctor Who Tag

yes im a nerd...

CHILDHOOD

1. Did you like DW as a child?

I was 10 when it came back on telly with Eccleston and the first episode with the autons scared me so much my mom wouldn't let me watch it again until a couple years later, but yeah my teens I was obsessed with DW... still am at age 25

2. Your age at the time of the revival?

3. First DW episode you ever saw?

‘Rose’

4. Did you have any of the toys?

I still have the eleventh doctor’s screwdriver... I used to have some of the figures but there in storage now somewhere

5. Which DW character did you play on the playground?

didn't play it on the playground

6. Monster(s) that scared you most as a child?

all of them! the ones that still scare me now are the Cybermen and the Autons... genuinely cant walk past a shop mannequin without being suspicious

7. Joke/story you didn’t get as a kid?

as a kid, any of the innuendo type jokes

8. DW opinion that has changed since you were a kid?

idk I think I still have the same opinions

9. Who introduced you to DW?

parents

10. Did you like Sarah Jane Adventures as a child?

I LOVED SJA!! I miss that show, and Elizabeth Slade :(

DOCTOR

11. Who is your Doctor?

Ten was the doctor that made me fall in love with Doctor Who

12. Your favourite Doctor?

omg why not just ask me who my favourite child is... (I don't have kids but you know what I mean) if I had to chose my top three are ten, eleven and thirteen

13. Least favourite Doctor?

purely just because he doesn't have enough episodes... nine...

14. Best regeneration?

none of them I hate regenerations :( they make me sad, im too emotionally invested in every single one

15. Do you like “Doctor-Lite” episodes?

they're not my faves

16. Who is the most human Doctor?

I think nine maybe? or twelve?

17. Best multi-Doctor story?

the 50th anniversary special

18. Best Doctor monologue?

“Hello Stonehenge! who takes the pandorica, takes the universe. but bad news everyone, cause guess who? HA! You lot you're all whizzing about- its really very distracting. Could you all just stay still a minute because I AM TALKING. Question of the hour is, who's got the pandorica? Answer, I do. Next question, who's coming to take it from me? Come on, look at me! No plan. No backup. No weapons worth a damn. oh and something else, I don't have anything to lose. So, if you're sitting up there in your silly little spaceship with all your silly little guns and you've got any plans on taking the pandorica tonight... just remember who's standing in your way. remember ever black day I ever stopped you and then- AND THEN- do the smart thing... let somebody else try first.”

not copied and pasted, remember that from the top of my head... its always there waiting in my mind incase I ever need an epic monologue :’)

19, What do you think TenToo/MetaCrisis Doctor is doing now?

hopefully living his best life with Rose

20. Best Doctor/companion pairing?

ten and donna

COMPANIONS

21. Favourite companion?

Donna, Clara, Amy

22. Favourite secondary companion?

is Mickey classed as secondary? idk

23. Least favourite companion?

Ryan

24. Best TARDIS Team?

Doctor, Amy and Rory

25. Most underrated companion?

Graham, but that may just be cause I love Bradders

26. Most overrated companion?

Rose... I like her but idk, I think she gets more hype than she deserves.. don't @ me

27. Favourite companion’s family?

Rose’s mom

28. Who should have been a companion but wasn’t?

idk I cant think of anyone

29. Favourite (canon or non-canon) DW universe relationship?

Amy and Rory

30. Who did you not used to like, but really like now?

wasn't keen on Bill at first but by the end I really liked her, same with Rory

EPISODES

31. Favourite episode ever?

girl in the fireplace

32. Least favourite episode?

most of Chibnall’s episodes tbh sorry not sorry

33. Which episodes do you skip?

the regeneration episodes

34. Best two-parter?

Human Nature - Family of Blood

35. Historical, present day or futuristic episodes?

I like them all in there own way but I think present is fave, then historical, then future

36. Episode that will always make you smile?

all of them

37. Episode that will always make you cry?

Rory and Amy’s last episode :’(

38. Best run of episodes?

ugh I cant answer this theres too many

39. Best cliffhanger?

the end of Spyfall part one when the Master reveals who he is... I was SHOOK

40. Favourite Christmas special?

Voyage of the Damned

SERIES

41. Classic Who or New Who?

new who

42. Favourite series?

four or five

43. Least favourite series?

eleven, I just cant with the writing

44. Which series do you skip?

none

45. Favourite series opening?

eleventh hour

46. Favourite series finale?

Doomsday

47. Best series arc?

Bad Wolf

48. Thoughts on series 11/12?

I adore Jodie Whittaker and her doctor, and although I think 3 companions is too many I do love Yaz and Graham (Ryan is hit & miss). I just think theyve been massively let down by the stories/writing... they’ve tried to hard to tick certain boxes and completely missed what Doctor Who is about for a lot of people.. an escape from the real world into these outrageous unbelievable but lovable fun alien adventures

49. How much of Classic Who have you seen?

not a lot

50. Who should have had another series?

NINE NINE NINE NINE NINE

MONSTERS

51. Favourite monster/villain?

the master

52. Most creative monster?

Weeping Angels, whoever came up with monsters that look like statues and only move when you're not looking at them is genius

53. Monster(s) that scares you most?

Autons, Cybermen, the creepy dolls from Night Terrors, the ones from Waters of Mars, Weeping Angels

54. Monster you think is too easy to defeat?

idk

55. Least favourite monster/villain?

absorbaloff

56. Monster you want to return?

The Master, I really hope that isn't the last we see of Dhawan

57. In your opinion, what makes a monster good?

being genuinely scary,

58. Daleks, Cybermen or Weeping Angels?

Weeping Angels

59. Best Dalek story?

Daleks in Manhatten

60. Best one time villain/monster?

my brain has gone blank I cant think of an answer right now

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL

61. Torchwood or Sarah Jane Adventures?

SJA

62. Favourite Torchwood Team member?

I haven't watched it all so I couldn't say

63. Which Torchwood death made you saddest?

again, not watched it all

64. Do you rewatch COE or MD?

huh

65. Favourite SJA Team member?

Sarah Jane

66. Mr Smith or K-9?

K-9

67. Maria or Rani?

Rani

68. Do you read the comics/novels or listen to Big Finish?

Nope

69. If you do, your favourite additional stories?

n/a

70. Do you like DW analysis (video essays, fan theories, etc)?

yes

DESIGN/PRODUCTION

71. Favourite piece of alien tech?

the sonic, I love how it is so multipurpose except for when it comes to wood

72. Favourite piece of Murray Gold music?

I am the Doctor - gets me pumped every time

73. Favourite TARDIS design?

Ten’s Tardis

74. Has the 2005 era CGI aged well?

actually yeah, I was rewatching the ‘are you my mummy’ episodes the other day and my God when the gas masks emerged from the faces... ooooooof I was like omg how

75. Favourite Doctor outfit?

eleven or thirteen

76. Monster with the best design?

not really a design more of a costume.. I live Dhawan master’s costume. that shade of purple, oof he so stylish

77. Best show runner?

idk

78. Best writer?

Gatiss

79. Best opening titles?

eleven’s titles where the Tardis is flying and being zapped is cool but thirteens music hits different

80. Will DW age well/stay popular in the future?

I hope so, I feel like its lasted this long surely it can last forever.. if the writers don't fuck it up...

IF YOU WERE IN THE SHOW

81. Time period you’d want to go with the Doctor?

whatever time means Id get to wear the most beautiful costumes

82. Planet/place you’d want to go with the Doctor?

Galifrey, pre-desctruction

83. Doctor you’d most like to travel with?

any of them, please and thank you

84. Companion you’d most like to travel with?

donna, sceso a good laugh but also I feel like she’d look after me

85. Monster you’d like to defeat/fight?

The Master

86. If you could go back on your own history (like Father’s Day), where would you go?

back to when I was a toddler, I wanna see what I was like

87. If you could ask the Doctor anything, what would you ask?

theres too many to ask

88. Historical figure you’d like to meet?

Shakespeare

89. How do you think you’d meet the Doctor?

id probably be rescued from doing something stupid and then the doc would be like you know what the bitch clearly needs supervision she's coming with me

90. Would you travel forwards or backwards in time first?

backwards

IF YOU MADE THE SHOW

91. Historical event would you like to see in DW?

Hamilton

92. Issue you’d like to see addressed in DW?

idk

93. Who would you completely erase from the DW universe?

Ruth

94. One unanswered DW question you’d love to know the answer to?

where is Clara now?

95. Actor/actress you’d like to see play the Doctor?

Phoebe Waller Bridge (or Lin Manuel Miranda)

96. Actor/actress you’d like to see play a companion?

Andrew Scott (yes I did just basically recast fleabag and hot priest)

97. Is DW “too political”?

series 11 got a bit like that

98. Which characters fate would you changed?

Danny Pink

99. What about DW could be improved?

I think ive made my options about Chibnall pretty clear...

100. If you could write an episode of DW, any ideas for what you’d do

bring back Jenny, the Doctor / Daughter adventures they would have. I’m actually writing a fic about it if you wanna read.... here

#doctor who #tag #doctor who tag #doctor who questions #survey

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nazariolahela · 5 years

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Something Domestic: Chapter 5

A/N: Hey y'all! This is a new TRR AU I’ve been working on. This story is told in first-person narrative, from Riley’s (MC) POV. There will likely be smidges of canon in this, but not too much. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @aworldoffandoms @dcbbw @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @sunandlemons @jlynn12273 @indiacater @jared2612 @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld @badchoicesposts @msjr0119 @katurrade @blackcoffee85

Synopsis: When Riley Brooks takes a new job as a nanny for the affluent Rhys family in New York’s Upper East Side, she assumes she’s just going to care for the children of the couple who hired her. But instead of just school pick-ups and afternoon snacks, she also finds herself spending time with Liam, the handsome divorced dad. Can Riley control her feelings for Liam while still performing the job she was hired for?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Riley's first day at her new job presents its own challenges.

I stifle a yawn as the cab drops me off in front of the Rhys’s penthouse. I tip the driver and check the time on my phone. 6:42 a.m. I can’t remember the last time I had to be anywhere this early. Even when I had eight a.m. classes, I slept until 7:50, ran a toothbrush over my teeth, finger-combed my hair, and hightailed it across campus. The 32 oz coffee in my hand hasn’t kicked in yet, and I regret not getting the double shot.

I make my way to the door, where I’m greeted by the same doorman from Friday. I enter the lobby and notice an older bald man sitting behind the front desk, reading the New York Times. He peeks over the corner of his paper when he hears me approaching and sets it down.

“Good morning, Miss. How may I help you?”

“Riley Brooks. I’m here for the Rhys family.”

He nods, opening a drawer, and pulls out a small black envelope. “Here you go, Miss. Your keycard for the penthouse. This will get you access 24/7.” I thank him and take the keycard, then make my way to the elevator. The doors open, and a man in a three-piece suit, talking on his cell phone, strolls out. I step in and pull the keycard from the envelope, then tap it on the panel. The elevator ascends and I take a sip of my coffee. Deep breaths, Riley. You can do this.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator stops on the Penthouse floor. I step out and find the apartment dark. The sun's rays barely peek over the horizon, giving the room a soft glow. I set my bag and my coffee on the kitchen island and make my way through the apartment.

“Hello? Anyone up?” I call out, trying not to wake anyone who might still be asleep. I hear rustling coming from the second floor and make my way up the stairs. I head down the East Wing to see Charlotte and Philip still asleep. Madeleine’s door is open and I poke my head in to find it empty.

“You just missed her.”

A deep voice startles me. I turn to see Liam standing behind me, dressed in navy blue slacks and a white dress shirt. The top two buttons are undone, revealing his neck and chest. His tie is casually draped around his neck. Is it bad that I want to lick a line from his chest, up his jaw, and to his ear?

”I'm sorry. I was just checking to see if the children were awake yet.”

”No worries. It’s getting to be that time soon. We usually wake them at 7 to give them time to get dressed and eat breakfast.”

I nod. ”What do they usually eat for breakfast?”

”Charlotte’s pretty easy. She has a banana and a bowl of yogurt for breakfast. Sometimes oatmeal. Philip, on the other hand…”

Just then, I hear the padding of tiny feet on the hardwood floors. I turn around to find Charlotte emerging from her bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Daddy? I’m hungry.”

“How about we get dressed and I’ll make you something to eat,” I say as I crouch down to her level. She looks to her father for reassurance. Liam nods and buttons the final two buttons on his shirt.

“Come on, Charlotte. Let’s get you ready for your first day of school.”

A scowl forms on her little face. “But school doesn’t start for another week,” she says.

“Exactly. That will give us enough time to get you in a routine. By the time you start school, you’ll be ready.”

I lead her towards her bedroom and look over my shoulder at Liam. I’m pretty sure I just caught him staring at my ass. He averts his eyes and clears his throat. “Well uhh... I’m going to finish getting ready. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” I say, winking as I follow Charlotte. Once in her room, Charlotte makes her way to her closet and opens the door. My jaw drops. I can’t believe my eyes. A six-year-old has a bigger wardrobe than I do. I step inside the walk-in closet and see several dresses hung up on one wall. On the other, rows and rows of shoes. There are at least 30 pairs. Why does a child need that many pairs of shoes? The back wall contains a full-length mirror. I do a double-take. Are we sure this is her room?

“What do you want to wear, Charlotte?”

She makes her way over to the dresses and browses through the rack until she stops on a pink and white polka dot dress.

“This one!” she says, pulling it off the hanger. She pulls off her pajama gown and tosses it in the dirty clothes basket.

“Need some help, sweetie?” I ask as I move to assist her. She nods. I help her slip the dress on, then pull her blonde locks into a high pony. I finish off the look with a pink headband the same color as her dress.

“Okay, kiddo. Let’s go wake Brother up.”

She nods and takes off toward Philip’s room. I step out of the bedroom and look down the hallway towards Liam’s room. The door is open a crack; a sliver of light pouring out into the hallway. Part of me wants to lurk by his door like a creeper, in hopes to catch a glance of him changing. Before I do something stupid, I force myself to head towards Philip’s room. As I enter, I find him sitting on his bed playing with a toy truck.

“Good morning, buddy. Are you hungry?” I step into his room and kneel beside his bed. He nods. “Okay, let’s get dressed and we can make breakfast.”

“NO BATH!” he shouts and jumps off the bed. He runs out of his room and into the playroom, making engine noises with his mouth as he drives the truck through the air. I laugh and follow him.

“You don’t have to take a bath. But, we need to get dressed, okay?”

He dodges my legs, running back into his bedroom to change. I follow him and help him slip on a pair of khaki shorts and a blue dinosaur t-shirt. After Philip changes, we make our way into the hall and towards the stairs.

“Hurry up, Sister! It’s breakfast time!” he shouts, running ahead of us.

“Riley? Can I have oatmeal?” Charlotte asks.

“Sure thing. Then after we eat, we can go to the park.”

Both kids cheer and take off running downstairs. I reach the landing at the bottom of the staircase and see Liam standing in the kitchen. His back is to me. He’s leaning over the island, sipping coffee and reading the paper. His navy blue suit jacket hangs on the back of the chair next to him.

“DADDY!” both kids yell, tackling each of his legs. He chuckles and sets his coffee mug down on the island, acknowledging them. “Morning! Are you guys hungry?”

“Are you going to make us breakfast, Daddy?” Charlotte asks, her green eyes peering up at her father. Philip slaps his dad’s leg with his open palm and chants “Ce-re-al. Ce-re-al.”

“Okay, kids. Daddy has to leave for work, but Riley is going to take care of you.” He gently detaches the kids from his legs and walks around the island to grab his briefcase. He slips his suit jacket on and adjusts his tie one last time. “You be good for Riley, okay? Maybe she’ll take you guys to the playground after you eat.”

The kids scurry across the kitchen to the table and climb into their seats. I turn to make my way to the fridge and accidentally slam right into Liam. I throw my hands up against his strong chest to catch myself. My gods, he is shredded. Must resist the urge to run my hands over his chest. He grabs my elbows to steady me; his touch burning through my sleeve. After only a few seconds — but what feels like hours — we detach from each other and step back. I feel my cheeks burn. He clears his throat. “Sorry about that. You okay?”

“Y-yeah! I’m fine. You should probably get to work though. I don’t want you to be late.”

He smirks and reaches for his travel mug of coffee. He walks over to the kitchen table and kisses each kid on the forehead. “Be good for Riley. Love you. I’ll see you this evening.”

“Bye, Daddy!” they both reply.

He turns to me. “Text me or Madeleine if you need anything.” He says and gives me one last wink before he walks out of the kitchen. I stand in place, trying to calm my breathing. A few moments later, the sound of the penthouse elevator dings, snapping me out of my trance.

“Okay! Who wants breakfast?”

***

A couple of hours later, the kids and I make our way down to the lobby. The woman I met my first day here is back at her post, playing on her phone. She notices me and sets the phone down.

“Good morning Miss Brooks. Shall I call the driver?”

“Than, you, but won’t be necessary. I’m just taking the kids down to the park. It’s only a 10-minute walk.”

She frowns. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Ms. Karlington insisted you take the driver whenever you leave the house with the children.”

I roll my eyes and look down at the kids. “Well, I guess walking is out of the question.” I look back at her. How long will the town car take to get here?”

“Only a few minutes. Bastien lives here in the building. I just need to call him.” She picks up the receiver of her desk phone and speaks into it. “Miss Brooks is taking the children to the park. Please bring the car around front.” She then hangs up and addresses me. “He’ll be here in about 5 minutes. Please have a seat.”

I guide the kids to the lobby and take a seat on one of the high back chairs. The kids sit down on the settee sofa.

“Riley? Can we go for ice cream?” Philip asks.

“Not today, sweetie. I’ll have to ask your mommy and maybe we can go tomorrow.”

“You’re not supposed to have ice cream, Philip. You’re lack-toes-taller-ant.” Charlotte says matter-of-factly.

“Lactose intolerant?” I correct her.

“That’s what I said. Mommy says he can’t eat dairy or he pukes. It’s gross,” she says scowling.

“That’s okay. They have dairy-free options. That way he can still have ice cream, but it won’t make him sick.”

“ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!” Philip shouts, bouncing in his seat.

“Miss Brooks. The car has arrived,” the receptionist says. I gather the kids and lead them outside to the waiting vehicle. A man with black hair and gray eyes wearing a gray suit stands next to the back door of the car.

“Good afternoon, Miss. My name is Bastien. Where to today?”

“Nice to meet you, Bastien. I’m Riley Brooks. Central Park, please,” I reply. He opens the door and helps me buckle Charlotte and Philip in their booster seats. He then holds the door open so I can climb in. After I’m in my seat, he shuts the door and makes his way to the driver’s side. He puts the car in drive and maneuvers into traffic.

“How long have you been working for Liam and Madeleine?” I ask.

He eyes me in the rear-view mirror. “I’ve been with him for about 7 years. I used to drive his father around until he retired. I’ve been with the Rhys family for nearly 20 years.”

“Wow! That’s a long time.”

“The family has been good to me for many years, the job pays well, and I have a lot of free time during the day. I just need to be available to chauffeur Mr. Rhys to and from work and the occasional events.”

“Does he drive himself at all?”

Bastien chuckles. “He does. But Mr. Rhys usually works during his commute, so it’s easier for me to transport him.”

I nod and turn to the window, watching the traffic pass by. A few minutes later, we arrive at the park and Bastien exits the vehicle.

“I’ll wait here while you and the children play,” he says. We make our way to Heckscher Playground. This is my favorite place in Central Park. Not only is it the oldest playground in the park, but it's also the largest. The kids make a beeline for the playground equipment, while I find a park bench to sit on. I relax and take in the sounds of the park. Birds chirping. The sounds of traffic in the distance. Kids laughing and screaming as they play. I hear Charlotte and Philip approach me a few minutes later. Philip is cupping one hand in the other.

“Riley! Look what we found!” Philip says, holding out his hand. I lean in to see a small toad hopping around in his palm.

“Where did you find that?”

“He was jumping on the slide. Can we keep him? Please?”

“No, buddy. We need to leave him here. This is his home, and his family is probably looking for him. Plus, I’m sure your Mommy will flip out if we bring a toad home.”

A frown forms on his little face. It breaks my heart to see him sad, but I’m sure Madeleine would never in a million years let the kids have a pet. She’d probably fire me for even suggesting it. I grab my purse and rise from the park bench. “I have an idea. Let’s take a picture of him with my phone. That way, we have something to remember him by.”

Philip grins and holds his hand out and I snap a picture of the toad. He then crouches down and releases the toad into the grass, watching as it hops away. “Bye-bye, Mr. Toad.”

“Can we see the picture, Riley?” Charlotte asks.

I pull up the photo and show the kids. They ooh and aww over the image. I smile at how adorable they are. “Can we take a picture of us to send to Mr. Toad?” Philip asks.

I laugh. “I don’t think Mr. Toad has a cell phone, but we can still take a picture. Squeeze in here,” I tell them. I open the camera app and snap the photo.

As I examine the photo, I hear the distinct sound of a camera clicking. I look to my left to see a paparazzo hiding behind the bushes, snapping photos of us with his long-range lens. Are you freaking kidding me?! My jaw tightens. “Kids, get your stuff. It’s time to go.”

“Awww, already?” they both whine. Seething, I gather up my purse and grab each of their hands, pulling them toward the car. I glance over at the paparazzo and see a second one a few feet away. As we near the car, Bastien sees us and jumps out. He notices the expression on my face.

“Everything alright, Miss Brooks?”

“Paparazzi. We need to get out of here.”

He nods, ushering the kids into the car and buckling them in their seats. I don’t bother climbing in the back and jump in the front seat. He climbs in the driver’s seat and tears away from the park, checking the rear-view.

“It doesn’t look like they’re following us. Are you okay?”

I close my eyes and exhale loudly, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just shaken up. Does that happen a lot?”

He frowns. “Unfortunately. Mr. Rhys and Ms. Karlington are high-profile individuals. Which means the press follows their every move. That includes the kids. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about that beforehand.”

“Don’t apologize. It comes with the territory. I knew this would happen eventually. It just caught me off guard. I guess I’m worried about how it’s going to affect my personal life going forward. Now that they know my face, they’re probably going to start following me even when I’m not working.”

“Would you like me to speak to Mr. Rhys about getting you security detail?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ll be okay. They’re more of a nuisance than anything. Can you take us home?”

As we make our way back to the penthouse, I contemplate texting Liam. No one was hurt, and the kids have no clue what happened, but I’m sure the pictures will end up online within the hour. I don’t want him to worry and there’s no way in hell I’m texting Madeleine. I close my eyes and rest my head against the seatback. Better get used to it, Riley. You knew the risks when you took this job.

Easier said than done.

#trr au #trr fanfic #liam rhys #riley brooks #the royal romance #something domestic #playchoices fanfic #nanny au #madeleine karlington #nazariolahela fanfic

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colubrina · 6 years

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In your opinion,, why is hermione so attractive?? Both intellectually and physically. It’s hard to believe that a “plain” and “bossy” girl would win the heart of boys like Draco and Tom. Realistically, I think it’s a stretch, because canon hermione is uptight and kinda unlikable, but a lot of non canon hermione(s) are kind of,,,,a result of authors’ projection?? I feel like a lot of us see ourselves as hermione and we make her into a character she’s not really. Thoughts?

Well... of course. That’s exactly what people are doing.

Many of us fall into nerdy fandom because we’re bookish and socially awkward, so it’s hard to relate to a character like Ginny, who’s canonically pretty and popular and athletic. I got your ask and tried to imagine what adolescence would have been like if I had been popular and athletic and I really cannot wrap my mind around it. It would have been an entirely different experience than the one I had, which was far more like Hermione’s. Bossy. Socially inept. Clever, certainly, but no prodigy. Crying alone after prom? Oh, yeah, I can relate.

But, like, my stories are my playground. Yeah, I’m using someone else’s toys, but I’m going to tell romance stories about the bookish, socially inept girl who gets ALL the hot boys, not about the girl who keeps a smile glued to her face when she’s perpetually passed over. And, to be fair, Hermione does attract Victor Krum, kind of a hottie. And Cormac. An idiot, to be sure, but he jumps at the chance to go out with her, so... maybe our girl isn’t quite the wallflower she seems through Harry’s eyes, or wouldn’t be if she weren’t holding onto that torch for Ron with a death grip.

In the end, what does it matter? If a story strays too far from canon for you, well, in Harry Potter we’re incredibly lucky because there are more stories than you’ll ever read. Just click away from the things that don’t work for you and let other people enjoy them.

(Also, Draco is a dork who cries in the bathroom with a ghost and dresses up as a dementor to get attention. Let’s not put him on too high a social pedestal. Especially after getting that Mark on his arm? He’s lucky if she gives him the time of day.)

#Anonymous

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elizabethrobertajones · 6 years

Text

13x07 Watching Notes

Should probably not have multiple scenarios where I snark out loud and then the very next line of dialogue is that snark but innocently delivered.

Heyooo it’s not our Christmas cliffhanger though!

Expectations: It has literally just occurred to me right now sitting down to type out my expectations that this season's *entire* main plot so far has been "the spawn of satan is cuter than we expected".

I'm still trying to wrangle the idea of how you get hours of Buckleming plot twists and slow exposition out of this, although introducing 18 different angles for them to tackle the problem and returning us to the AU world is a good start to have at least 4 plot threads going and hey I feel like this episode is supposed to be a breather for having too many Jack episodes in a row which makes it even funnier that they're gonna have to deal with the absence of something but who knows maybe he will show up before episode 9. If not they may genuinely be tricked into considering narrative negative space in some form or another, at least by the actual omission of Jack from the episode, despite the fact it has to be about him.

There's like at least 3 individual ways each arc might go terribly, and I'm typing this as pre-yoga thoughts while trying to do my NaNoWriMo and I watched Brooklyn 99 already this morning, and essentially I'm pretty much just bracing against "Oh god this new sleep pattern is the worst and it has ruined nearly every episode this season for me" migraines. So I'm just gonna be super chill because the stress of this ridiculous bed at 8pm awake at 5am thing is killing me without bad writing on my favourite show.

So, instead of modelling a worst case scenario, here's a best case one: it's crowded, the pacing is bad, there's some bizarre lines of dialogue and no room for any character interaction and the sneak peek already showed us the sum total of Destiel interaction but in hindsight with the rest of the episode that's actually a plus, and aside from that there's no rape or catastrophic bad decisions or characterisation that just makes our guys look like idiots because the villains aren't that smart and they're still outwitting them or something. Cas wasn't even mentioned in the episode description if I recall and I would like to think that is because he gets Buckleminged in the way where they forget he exists so he's in 2 scenes and just kinda stops at some point and that's the last we hear of him for a few episodes but at least nothing happened to him :P

(It HELPS that the bad decision of the year seems like it should be Jack and Kaia ganging up in 13x09 and this is just a plot filler episode where they can't blow everything up from sheer incompetence, since the main plot is still Jack, and all Buckleming can do is escalate stuff but not so much we find Jack, so they're mostly running free with Lucifer, Michael and Asmodeus on the playground they've been permitted to keep them distracted. On the other hand, that does not lend itself towards 'storytelling structure' whatsoever. So I may derive some fun from mentally re-writing this episode as it goes as well.)

Hi I'm back and I have tea and preemptive paracetamol and look I not do crap like this lightly but the only thing wrong with me is sleep and yoga but glug glug glug down the hatch, I'm not fucking around, migraine. I swear to god if I even see a HINT of you...

I should also mention that my only prep for this episode was watching Tall Tales last night with my mum because we're lightly re-watching season 2 and I thought you know what look how far that fucker has come that he's just one of the show's regular directors now or something. I forgot that completely this morning so I'm amending my expectations (it WAS annoyingly early in the day) to add that Speight hasn't directed a Buckleming yet but I'm interested to see how he handles it.

The episode starts with Mary cheerfully punching Lucifer at least 3 times in the face. I am still extremely proud of her for doing that but overall disappointed that it's led to her banishment to be a Buckleming character this season, which has been a fast way to ruin characters.

We get the entire first minute of the recap in Buckleming POV, aka they write the corny villains - and specifically a lot of Asmodeus point of view, his summary of the situation and what needs doing, having graciously inherited this throne, and comments on where Lucifer is as a sort of trailing off, well that's not my concern if he's gone. Only at the minute mark does the recap flip around to something genuinely ABOUT Jack as we've been seeing him, rather than trying to sell Jack as woooo Lucifer's scaaary son. Suddenly Jack's own identity crisis and him leaving.

Maybe it's just because they were trimming for time, but they cut the "all of you" from "I know I'm going to hurt you" but they also left the focus on Sam. I am mostly amused that by removing the clarification - which has been a theme of the season - it reduces that moment to a bare minimum surface layer, as if to say bye bye writing depth hello random action.

I had a burgeoning theory last year from one episode or another that pretty much everyone is lampooning Buckleming while letting them get on with writing their stuff, and trying to run loops around them in basically any other way.

There was something going on on screen involving a lot of stock footage while I was digging around in my bag looking for my 3DS assuming this was gonna be a Lucifer scene. I still think they're softening him up to kill him, but that's something I have to hope. One of the other non-redemption options is that they need to make him at least halfway manageable if he is gonna end up working with Cas or something. There is something vaguely appropriate matching Buckleming dialogue to Lucifer melodramatics, but unfortunately I really can't give these writers or that character much of a chance so while I'm happy to let them take him to play with over on their bit of the story like a chew toy to keep them off the stuff I like, it is annoying this is all the canon of the show I like >.>

One or the other of Buckleming really really dislikes God and organised religion though, and that does often lend the interesting thing to an episode where for some reason as soon as religion is involved the writing actually gets halfway decent.

One thing Lucifer says that catches my interest is his idea the universe is written without irony, when tbh that has literally been his downfall in season 5, and in general the universe is ironic to the WINCHESTERS to whom the universe is actually happening to, and there's the whole Dean is the centre of the universe thing, and THEN there's Billie's line about how sometimes the universe is poetic, coupled with how Dean got Cas back entirely through dramatic irony. I can't remember if Chuck commented on dramatic irony. Anyway Lucifer sucks, the story doesn't happen to him and he doesn't have the resources to read it. Metatron *thrived* on that sort of thing.

I like the visual of Michael standing with the sun behind him - it gives him absolutely the divine look he'd love to have, and I just wish he didn't have randomly shirtless Lucifer taking up some of that visual. If someone doesn't make a gifset chopping Lucifer out to just enjoy that image, I will make one, perhaps.

Something else to enjoy about this: they locked Mark P in some sort of medieval torture device and no matter how comfy you try and make it, there's obvious limits to that, so I will enjoy that he had to do that.

Michael sees that Lucifer is scared of being locked up and caged, which actually is... accidentally or not... a pretty clever callback, although it wouldn't have killed them to have Michael deduce this on screen, because in 9x18 Dean - Michael's vessel - deduces that Gadreel - a blatant Lucifer parallel in many respects while obviously not in many many others - is terrified of being caged again.

Of course that exchange is one of the single most fascinatingly well-acted exchanges of the entire show which on my umpteenth viewing still knocks me completely flat so it's not a FAIR comparison, but it is an interesting one.

I like that Michael think that the main universe is already paradise - in comparison to his shithole, definitely, because it still has pretty stock footage. Thematically interesting since obviously paradise is a bit of an issue with what people want...

LOL Wanek's ridiculous "concrete bunker" set... The camera pulls back and there's a massive Jesus on the wall and Lucifer's hanging behind him screeching and it's like... That is an inanimate lump of wood and I can see it rolling its eyes at you.

In the earlier moments out here in the AU we saw the church from 8x23 poking up out of the rubble, and whether this is the same one or not NOW, because I think it was a bit too buried to be this one, it conjures the memory of 8x23, and that one was interesting specifically because Jesus wasn't there - the cross had only his hands and feet remaining and the rest had been torn down. Sam was inserted into that empty space because he was doing the big heroic world-saving sacrifice that from one direction of pure irony the episode was named after (since he decided not to do it/the real motives for his sacrifice were way more interesting than him going through with it heroically anyway etc) but it was another Sam and Jesus moment, like in 5x22 where he more straight-forwardly sacrificed himself.

(And jeeze you watch one episode with the guy and now I can't get him out of my head - remembering in 9x18 Gabriel snarking about how he died for their sins and then making one of the few Jesus references on the show. Jesus is usually extremely absent from this show, so actually having him on screen is very interesting)

Anyway I am pretty sure this is almost entirely to remind Lucifer what a great big fucking drama queen he is being about this all and of course he's sacrificing for nothing.

Blah blah promo scene.

They have the photo of Jack from Mia's security camera which means no one has snapped a cute picture of him on their phone yet, Cas included. Disappointing.

Now, I'm pretty hesitant to get into characterisation in BL episodes, and Dean just generically wryly comments on how powerful Jack is which could mean anything but Sam then says he might be covering his tracks and then Cas, who has to be written sympathetic to Jack, comes through the door saying that it could mean Jack is in trouble with the various forces that want to control him. Sam's comment coupled with Cas's interruption seems to make it much more likely that Sam's comment is to be taken as vaguely unnerved/suspicious of what Jack can do, and that he's doing things like that Dean implies. That Jack learned so fast he might be able to cause a fair amount of destruction but conceal it from them and if they're trying to track him, Sam is expecting destruction.

Dean also came from the kitchen with coffees so why is Cas coming from the back of the Bunker... I'm gonna have to assume he was until just now lounging around in Dean's bed and Dean was like I better go get coffee and help Sam and Cas was like yeah but thanks for the 'sorry your son ran away' sex i feel a lot better and Dean was like no problem babe, and probably gave Cas one of those ridiculous shoulder nudges in the most no homo way ever before he got up to find where they threw his underwear an hour earlier, and Cas just kinda chilled while Dean was getting the coffee so as not to be suspicious by piling in on Sam after taking the exact same length break from the search but then they fucked it up and still managed to enter the scene within 30 seconds of each other.

Yeah, that's probably it.

I just saw the list of guest stars wander by and took 3 emergency gulps of my tea at that combo of Osric and for some reason DHJ because file that under genuinely unexpected :P

PS: I know we knew Kevin would be back this year but the fact I managed to find Kevin thematic stuff in the last 2 episodes in a row still feels important to me as storytelling rather than foreshadowing.

Anyway Cas tries to tell Dean the angels don't like him, and Dean volunteering to go with him because "i could go with you" is a thing and they keep doing it to each other and ow

Blah blah we could work a case. Are you serious? I really seriously hope this is not literally Buckleming's thought process about wtf do we do with Sam and Dean this episode after establishing maybe 4-5 other plotlines we need to handle away from them. I hope it turns out to be directly main plot related, whatever they stumble on, but we already now have them in a position where any involvement with the main stuff will be them stumbling on it or it coming to them. See above: ways in which the main characters are automatically made to be stupid. Subtle things, like not being able to imagine a way in which Sam and Dean are resourceful enough to even start to find Jack which doesn't involve googling things.

I mean we have no clue what you're doing with this random witch seeming case, why can't you bring a detail foreward if it's from the main plot to give us a clue. And if it's not, tell us something connected to it which will at least make Sam and Dean interested in it as a lead? Even if they're not right about why, put them on the trail because they're good at their jobs!

Anyway hi Asmodeus? As soon as we clear the promo scene etc I start assuming everyone is Asmodeus

I mean, in this case it literally is. but you can't trust anyone these days.

He needs to have his equivalent scene to sitting around in the Bunker googling, which, which is to say, the same type of minions who brought Crowley or Lucifer news are now coming toadying in to tell Asmodeus news, and the only difference is his name is harder to spell.

He's trying to do the same thing reaching out to Jack that we saw Lucifer trying to do last season, to Dagon. There is always the possibility that Asmodeus just isn't powerful enough to get into Jack's head from this extreme range when he has no idea where he is. Loser.

This minion seems to be mistakenly labelling Jack as "the Jack", maybe not as a mark of respect but more misunderstanding what he is, that he's not a thing, that that's his name...

Asmodeus asks who's protecting Jack, and cut to the image of Jesus again. I don't know about him, but tbh it could just be that Jack is protecting HIMSELF and they've massive underestimated him to do that. Jesus on this show represents a lot more of the personal autonomy saving yourself thing.

Also hey as long as we're not seeing Jack, we're getting that gosh darned hole in the narrative that he represents while he's missing. Is this actually a lesson in subtlety?

Michael meanwhile is enjoying tormenting Lucifer some more because blah blah sole purpose in life and what do you even do when you win.

Lucifer appears to have claimed to be a god in the SPN verse and Michael's like, here you're pathetic, and I'm like, mate, he was pretty pathetic in the main SPN universe too

There's some cool crosses on the walls which are trying to help, bringing light into this church.

Yeah where is Mary anyway - I wasn't gonna ask, but then Lucifer seemed to imply that Michael was keeping her around.

I mean sheesh the easiest way to get Mary around is to just have her in the scene still lurking but then film it as if it's almost entirely from her eyeballs POV if she doesn't have anything else to be doing right now - having her witnessing this theatre as the person from the main SPN world who's come over here.

KEV

Awwww he's gone a wee bit off the rails in this world, seeing as he'd have had to be helping Michael and reading tablets the entire time and also the entire world appears to be destroyed.

I don't know why Lucifer's having a personal reaction to Kevin unless I totally forgot something but they were literally never in the same seasons as each other although weirdly both in 11x21 so obviously must just be angels would know all the prophetsand which one was currently active... Maybe he's just surprised that in the AU Kevin survived even longer than he did in the supposedly better world.

Well there aren't any Winchesters in this one and Lucifer always underestimates them, in this case positively re: likelihood of getting Kevin killed :P

Oh great they're powering down Lucifer a bit. Well that should make him much more irritating.

I mean mostly because everything makes him irritating.

But it means the show wants him around some more but they can't have him at full power because it's just inconvenient so now they're finding a reason to water him down so they can have him around dragging his heels and complaining. I suppose it might make some comparisons to Cas, who's on a smidgen of left-over grace, but again, see also: eye rolling wooden Jesus, there's no way you can redeem Lucifer and not by comparing him to Cas.

Metatron got some sort of treatment but he was nowhere near like Cas even when he was done being redeemed and he still had to be killed off doing a heroic thing rather than let him stick around.

I'm just grinding my teeth and I already got part of the way through the next scene but UGH

So hey thinking of random versions of other characters why is DHJ's magnificent facial hair making a cameo return role on this side of the interdimensional nosense? You can't just grow a beard and start hunting witches on the down low on the winchesters' turf.

I'm assuming including DHJ's names in the credits was specifically some sort of nonsense now

specifically monsters going around looking like other things.

Maybe it was a shapeshifter Ketch punched a few weeks ago. It's only been a few weeks since he died, you know.

Maybe it's Asmodeus.

Maybe it's maybelline

The plot reason for the beard had better be hilarious.

I like Daniella the Beret Witch. For some reason I thought she looked tons like the witch Sam and Dean were looking at on the CCTV but when I went back to look I actually spotted her in the background watching them and waiting to make her move, and she doesn't look like the one on the CCTV at all so I guess my brain clocked her and filed her away because she was sitting around in a huge scarf, sunglasses and a beret and my brain didn't want me to not pay attention to her in case she was useful.

Kevin's weirdly pristine but still grey hoodie is making me giggle. He looks like the AU has barely touched him and Michael's even dirty and ragged.

I'm not sure I even want to touch random morality discussions from Buckleming. Lucifer says Michael is pure evil, Kevin says "aren't you Satan?" and Lucifer really hasn't done anything ever to make us actually want to root for him. Like sure Michael is the much worse bigger bad in the show's rankings but that doesn't make Lucifer less quanitifiably evil. Michael's way more complex because Lucifer is the big cartoon evil that Sam had to originally fear, the "what if I am actually evil" character mirror that obviously Sam isn't but it meant Lucifer needed no character complexity other than whiny manipulative interpretations of how he'd been mistreated where he could protest he had a side. Michael is waaaay more complex just in the like 2 episodes he actually talks in season 5 because he's "what if Dean was the big bad" and he's not evil, he's just 100% black and white morality rigid "good" in the sense of punishing evil, to the point of not questioning an order to kill his brother, and not even having a particularly "cool motive still murder" approach like Cain, but literally just like well okay then I guess I will kill my brother. How to make DEAN evil, or to personify the darkness that lives in him.

I mean I am massively simplifying but dear lord Buckleming if you read my notes this is the baseline direction you need to be writing these characters from and I am trying to HELP.

I am genuinely feeling like you're mistaking "apparent fan favourite because they make a lot of memes about him, Lucifer" as "this must mean people genuinely like him because he's Lucifer" and any possible reason I would find him interesting as a villain who was held up to just kinda exist and be himself doing his awful things contrasted to Michael who was just around existing and doing his awful things, is all just draining away down the toilet. Like you've got Lucifer lodged in there and you're flushing and flushing around him >.>

Anyway I'm going to take this entire scene as 100x more ironic than it was probably originally intended to be, that Kevin is not exactly right about Michael (and lol, Michael being the Dean parallel just kinda using Kevin all the time for random spells and always having him on the hook for doing things for them) but he's sure not wrong about Lucifer, Lucifer protesting Michael is evil because he's mistreating him and has destroyed this planet sure isn't WRONG but it's not a "so therefore I must be right"

And I kind of think the level of subtlety this writing is at is that "Michael is a dick and therefore Lucifer looks better in comparison"

But that's not how any of this works

*insert Jesus eyeroll*

*pats poor overworked manic AU!Kevin's hair*

I wonder if he's actually going to be able to do it

it would be HILARIOUS if they waste Lucifer's grace on this

Hey he did it, I'm proud of you AU!Kev. He always manages to do the thing :P

Okay not good that Lucifer has just been thrown back because A: Mary is still trapped over there, I assume for the much more important emotional arc stuff to do with rescuing her especially in the parallel to getting Cas back and all this stuff for Sam's arc and all

But UGH the writing of Lucifer is just really annoying me on so many levels and punting him back into the main SPN universe depowered and humbled by his brother, just annoys me so much.

Like I don't know how much more less enthused I have to be about Lucifer having struggles.

Boo hoo

Last season Dean got mistaken for homeless after he got hit with the memory spell, and was offered cash to make him go away.

he handled it considerably better than Lucifer.

I am just gonna assume this random woman is Asmodeus.

Lucifer probably ought to go grab that cash he was offered...

Oh wait here's Asmodeus, torturing some poor bloke called Karl who apparently works at the motel from last week.

I'm impressed they managed to track Jack that far, tbh

The question is, is there an actual memo that the Winchesters are camped in an old, heavily warded, impossible to map or locate MoL bunker, or is that something you only find out after you tail them for a bit? I mean Jack might not be there any more either but it would be a start :P

I feel extra skeevy about this scene because Asmodeus is being a total moron for starters by not checking Karl's level of clued in to this, and so he's this white plantation owner coded guy in his shiny white suit, torturing a black guy who isn't even on the same level as him for info he doesn't have, and could in no way be resonably expected to know. So it's doubly cruel. Although in some respects Asmodeus's coding makes this gratuitous violence a commentary, just like Buddy and Dave being collosal douches to women in the last few episodes was called out in many ways simply by their existence and coding as collosal douches.

Still not nice to watch on screen, especially without even more specific reference to Asmodeus's doucheyness because the stupidity of this dialogue is not helping.

Like did the minions just bring Karl to him and say hey we tracked the Winchesters and Jack this far, he might know more?

Like...

This is the sort of basic intelligence test fail here, that they're not over-thinking this scene in the specific details that you need to not have your main villain parade around displaying total idiocy over.

Like why the Winchesters would book into a motel under "Sam and Dean Winchester and Jack the Nephilim" and then Karl would know that and know what that means.

You can't just drag a normy into the Hell Main Office and torture them for info about Jack when they have no clue who that is.

He literally

can shapeshift

into anything

Go to the Stampede Motel, turn into a pretty girl in a low cut top, and lean on the motel check in desk until you know what you were after.

I'm no longer impressed they found Karl, I'm AMAZED.

Why did they kiiiiill him

Lol Asmodeus is so hammy

what's he sensing

Has he figured out Lucifer is back?

Meanwhile: Sam and Dean voluntarily go to a creepy cabin in the woods with a witch. This is not quite as stupid as Asmodeus was just being.

I am loving the plot development that David Hayden Jones has returned to the show as himself to find Rowena. Like dammit, you were a really cool character I had no interaction with but we coulda had some screen magic for all you know. You may or may not be in this episode as a surprise appearance which as Lizzy said putting MY name in the credits is the "hey it's that guy" fuckery to distract from the fact there's some bigger fuckery at foot (like... aside from the fact I was back to back with OSRIC FUCKING CHAU) because you don't *just* randomly put my very recognisable name in the credits at the start of the episode with Osric unless it's because something's up. So heeey here I am, I'm looking for Rowena, because dangit Ruthie deserves another chance to be in this show.

Daniella is also really slow to realise that Sam just said she was going to be bait. It took until Dean repeated it for her to realise.

She's really pretty though.

She starts choking like several moments before the gas hits her

... is that DHJ?

I mean we're getting a close up on his face but I literally. Do. Not. Recognise. Him.

I remember rambling at some point in my watching notes in season 12 when his face was being particularly hilarious after I'd seen con photos of DHJ that Ketch is one of the most effective character disguises I've ever seen for an actor's face. TBH it's the same weird different face thing I get from Alex Calvert - that he's all clean shaven and filmed as a wee nougat child in the show but he has an instagram of unrecognisable smouldering glamour shots, often with scruff. DHJ has a beard and that's his face, and part of the Ketch look was being clean shaven and crammed in a tight collar which is an incredibly British upper class twit look, and even in other clothes later the illusion lasted... But add a beard and stop grooming his hair and he just turns into some other person entirely.

Ah well, Dean gets to punch DHJ with Ketch's accent again which must be satisfying for him.

Did they take DHJ back to the Bunker? Really?

Oh he doesn't have the tattoo

LOL he's his "twin" "brother"... Obviously.

Yeah okay whatever you say, DHJ.

elizabethrobertajones Hey what if DHJ was actually Rowena

mittensmorgul oh god, don't give them ideas

ALSO if you have an "evil twin brother" you would generally assume that this sort of thing would happen a lot and you'd try and clarify sooner? I bring up my twin like every other time I talk about myself.

Also this is a ridiculous concept I refuse to engage with

I mean, thematically, wowsers. Fits right in with Buddy and Dave and things that look like other things

ALSO DHJ has been going around torturing witches so it's not like he's been the good twin

ALSO WHY IS HE HERE?

Apparently he's a hitman hunter

I suppose it's kind of like Bela but I do find it really strange.

Like how does anyone even know to hire him if no one knows monsters exist? Who is pointing him at these things?

Insinuating himself into situations like Bela to get work maaay be a way to do it, like if the Winchesters showed up in town and immediately told the sheriff what was up and then offered their fee as contractors or something. Pfft.

Pfft.

And then he's like "we hunters" because he's trying to bond with them or something

To google!

It's convenient he kept a beard his whole life

Oh okay Sam stole hard drives from the BMoL and is using their actual data.

I like the side by sides of their report cards where the prop people literally did them backwards from each other. "*More effort required!" they say about Alexander, and "Excellent work!" for Arthur.

Dean isn't buying it

LOL they dumped Ketch's corpse into the waste canal.

Do you want a haunted Bunker? That's how you get a haunted Bunker.

Anyway Dean is like NOPE don't believe it and Sam's like... there's so much proof... and then he goes in to question DHJ again and DHJ is like... you literally saw me get shot in the head last season, you don't trust that? And Sam's like no I had to concede that Dean had a point that we really can't trust anything and I guess Cas did just randomly come back or something and we have horrific problems with the white men on this show coming back again for completely random reasons that make no sense so you had better bloody well actually be re-introducing Rowena into the narrative even more dramatically than the warning Billie gave about the red-headed witch that Dean probably didn't tell me about now come to think of it, but I'd still like to see her again because we had a sort of weird thing we never really talked about going on...

Also are they keeping DHJ in the store room that showed up for the pencil scene but isn't the other store room? It looks like a different part of the Bunker repurposed.

Sam mis-reads Ketch, maybe because he never knew him as well as Mary or even Dean saw him. DHJ is like dude I played him for a year and psychoanalysed him and his crush on Dean in multiple interviews, so trust me when I tell you all his character exposition.

The stuff about being loyal to Heaven - I mean the BMoL - and being a company man echo what Ishim said about old Cas in 12x10

DHJ like, I did so much character work in those interviews, and I never got a chance for Ketch to be sympathetic so let me offer some more insight on him now you have me in the worst interview chair ever.

Also, don't go into pop culture journalism, Sam

"If he were here, he'd admit regret to some of the things he did to your family"

Yeah unless you have a magic twin link (well... not unlikey tbh with random ass canon pulls) you're either Arthur Ketch or just DHJ enjoying doing interviews about Ketch to a twisted and weird level and I'm sort of gonna have to do an intervention on this for him.

CAS

NEW PLAYGROUND

New angel!

mittensmorgul dumas? that's the name the superwiki has linked, but her page is blank

elizabethrobertajones Heh 3 musketeers again first in the off-brand nougat now that

"If we had him he wouldn't be imprisoned he'd be put to work"

SHE WANTS NEW ANGELS

I don't freakin blame her

But Jack shouldn't be "put to work" either - he would have to want to do it.

Awww Cas getting protective over Jack before I'm done typing that of course this means Jack would be forced to do it and the angel says "No other choice" because of course she does.

As usual heaven isn't comic book evil but its purposes in the name of "good" are super shady. Even if Jack was pure evil himself, Heaven enslaving a powerful nephilim for its own purposes would be dodgy.

Btw I am still torn about Cas's compulsion to care about Jack but on the other hand I am really enjoying Cas generally existing and being alive - and wait a minute she didn't even ask about how he was doing that - so I'm pretty much enjoying the surface level about Cas and Jack right now. Because of course I see the good in Jack that he DOES need protecting, so however Cas ended up on this, at least he is doing the right thing and taking the right stance.

"Castiel, he's not your pet. He belongs to all of us."

Uhoh, Cas is probably going to get grabbed.

*surprise*

Hey he did pretty well considering he's fighting 3 angels and is much weaker than them.

Oh boy, here's Lucifer. This is gonna go great.

Does Cas or Lucifer need to start this with the "you're supposed to be dead/in the AU" first?

Lol, Cas is the first person in this entire damn episode to actually ask a relevant question, and it's one we already know the answer to

*waves a little flag for Cas though*

Hey and then Lucifer asks about Cas being alive, what do you know.

He then calls Cas "cowboy" and pretends like Cas wouldn't kick his ass.

I am pretty happy about the "cowboy" thing :P

Lucifer has found a tan jacket somewhere, specifically one that looks like the one Jack was wearing but maybe a bit thicker, more like Cas's new coat. He's trying to edge in on this family and I can only assume this is not even a veiled metaphor for the douchey biological father wanting to be all interested in his son's business.

Lucifer in a tan jacket makes me think wolf in sheep's clothing.

He does, however, shelve the issue of child custody for now, and he appears to be genuinely freaked out enough about Michael to make that a priority and tell Cas about it, because if you want help against Michael, we've had 2 references to Team Free Will in short succession and that was a phrase coined specifically to spite Michael...

I don't think Lucifer should be allowed in, remotely, because it's become a family term, but the imagery is interesting anyway that he is trying to leech off the success of TFW to accomplish the goals he could never do himself. Especially because it was blatant in season 5 to everyone but him that Michael would kick his butt since he already did it once before and nothing has changed, 12x12 confirmed Michael would kill him slowly, and now meeting an AU Michael, he discovers that yep Michael sure is stronger than him, even when he was the last strong archangel left, and then Michael took that from him...

None of this, however, makes Lucifer sympathetic or good, just self-interested in not dying, and who is better at not dying than Cas?

I mean he wasn't even expecting to see Cas here, I guess he was going to a heaven portal to try and get them to listen?

LOL Kingdom Beer sign over Cas and Lucifer having a chat in a bar.

Cas looks Weary.

"I came back from the dead to deal with THIS? Please take me back to yesterday when it was fun kinky cowboy times with Dean."

I'm glad Cas isn't remotely friendly to Lucifer and is quick to remind him about how killed he got last time they hung out. Lucifer continues to be whiny and annoying about it all, unrepentant for killing Cas over petty nonsense.

LOL Lucifer is like "this Michael is much more powerful"

buddy. dude. go watch 12x12 then get back to me about how whooped your butt would have been. I mean go look at that lovely painting of him whooping your butt that was in 12x12 and unrelated to the fact he had that fucking lance in the first place.

Anyway he's trying to convince Cas to use his influence on Jack to get them to be the ultimate team up but they're fundamentally incapable of doing that because they're the 2 rival dads for Jack and blatantly symbolically being shown as that in these costumes, and that's one of the huge thematic things.

Cas like "You are the Weakest Link, goodbye."

I love Cas being so snarky, so maybe Lucifer being around is good in some respects, that it makes Cas this snarky because he has something to bounce off as awful and despised as Lucifer. Not even Crowley got THIS dismissive treatment, because they had emotional baggage that was of a whole different sort, whereas Cas and Lucifer have been opposite mirrors the whole time since season 4

Lucifer is emphasising how he and Cas are the big cosmic powers around here, with Jack. Hm...

Lol Cas is like "I'm calling my guys who deal with these things" and Lucifer bangs his head on the table in despair. I guess this is like the boy who called wolf except that instead of calling wolf he was literally going around eating all the sheep and was banned from being a shepherd for life and locked away and got out and ate more sheep and was locked away and got out and ate more sheep and got locked away and THEN came back like oh hi something's gonna eat all our sheep.

Lucifer then says Cas needs him and that he needs Cas and they all need Jack.

So Um I guess "Need" is The Worst Word right now :P

"Jack. Your son's name is *Jack*" *pats Cas's hair*

Pfft themes "is he a chip off the old block?" "thankfully, no. he seems to favour the mother"

Theeeeeeeeemes

Cas squinting when he lies - I don't think that's his lying tell because he does it too much, but perhaps uncertainty. The fact he squinted so much in the reintroduction huggy scene last episode feels to me less like lying and more like no clue what was going on and how mad he had to be about his humans sacrificing for him to come back.

Laughing at all their labelled phones lying around permanently charging. I think this is the first proof we've ever seen that they have a Bobby phone bank, but I can't imagine who would rely on the Winchesters to answer the phone when they need proof of ID :P They're like ALWAYS being abducted or disappearing on cases.

Or dying.

Okay so the phones are more just for their personal IDs for the cards THEY give out and they're just getting a call back from the motel for some reason, I suppose because Jack was with them (seriously. Dean gave the motel the name Jack? I have to assume Jack said his name before they could re-name him on the fly and so he was registered as a guest there as Jack the Nephilim because why the fuck not... Berens has a magic skill of un-fucking Buckleming canon but it seems Buckleming's skill is fucking up poor Davy's, in 12x13 and 12x17 and now here...)

ANYWAY jesus christ Asmodeus is stupid. "Evil Colonel Sanders" literally walked in and abducted Karl in person which means that his stupid ass questions weren't even because his minions brought him the guy and presented him in an idiotic way, but our shapeshifting villain wandered in and took Karl, himself in person with his own freaking face that the Winchesters KNEW and is extremely memorable, and took his prize.

...

DHJ better turn out to be Asmodeus even though I think their screentime overlapped and this makes no freaking sense since he has some established history wandering around attacking witches before they caught up with him.

I'd rather have a time plothole than a stupid plothole :P

Anyway DHJ is hanging out with them in the library eating a sandwich because... um

reasons?

At least he's in chains.

Oh my god I said that sarcastically moments before Sam said it sincerely and then pointed out there's no bathroom in the armoury

what the fuck

Like I said up top: as stupid as the villain is, your main characters have to be about as dumb as they are, either only just enough to outwit them, or more stupid if they get outwitted...

Poor Sammy, he was having such a fantastic season

Dean just straight up pretends Mary is phone when DHJ asks because why the heck would you monologue your sad life story to the bad guy, and give him emotional leverage over you? Especially when he ASKS because "Alexander" should have no knowledge of Mary or care about her, but then he also shouldn't know the DHJ interview details of Ketch's inner life.

YAY Dean and Cas are talking and Dean phoned Cas probably just to hear a sane voice because Cas is managing to weave around being Buckleminged, so far, possibly just because he was not in the opening half of the episode, and then this was a really important conversation they couldn't fuck up so probably got supervised.

elizabethrobertajones tee hee Cas standing by the gents to take a call from Dean wait hang on ... I'm not even being jokey I literally just had that moment in the chat with you :P *rewinds* Longing retcon Confirmed Oh dear that is hilarious I don't know if that's the moment you wanted me to see or not but I'm delighted :P

elizabethrobertajones Cas was standing away from Lucifer ready to take Dean's phone call and had to have walked off up to a minute before he called, but most likely in that time when Dean was like UGH I need to talk to Cas and hear the one sane voice in this episode and Cas was like... Brb I... have to use... the 'Gents' and got up and wandered off to take the call eat it, 12x10 and that "where's my phone" moment I mean Buckleming introduced it to fill a plothole so why should they not use it to cover more plotholes at their leisure

... did Speight know? I mean he coulda been like what the heckeroo, and added Cas getting the call and legging it from the table.

The only other option I can think of is Cas decided he may as well just get up to "go pee" because Lucifer is so annoying that pretending he needs to go to the loo buys him 5 minutes to let his migraine subside.

Also what the fuck DHJ was wandering around the bunker so he could use the bathroom. I am confused. Is this actually like... being hinted at. Like, "hey children, please remember who does and doesn't need to use the bathroom in this episode"

Omg

Cas like "I would *like* to see you too" is he literally pretending he and Dean were canoodling on the phone as a cover?

I hate everything

Anyway need/want blah blah I have been over that a lot lately :P Cas is using his DESIRE to see Dean to get help, by Lucifer saying he NEEDS Cas.

"Smooth was never your strong suit" oh my god Lucifer also thought Cas was pretending to be flirty too what is going on

why has this episode confirmed all the headcanons about Cas being the most shittiest phone sex guy ever

of all the things.

why.

DHJ wants to go because he misses being in on the action with the guys

Like. No, go take your sandwich and sit down.

Dean is sad about Cas always getting killed by Lucifer and stuff when he does stupid things.

Cas's "ugh stop talking Lucifer" face is a whole layer more existential misery than dealing with Crowley... I think he was secretly fond of Crowley or at least enjoyed hating him, whereas Lucifer is just EXHAUSTING.

He's needling Cas for attention.

LOL randomly Asmodeus as if Cas's headache wasn't bad enough, now we got thunder and lightning and very very frightening...

Pfft.

bahahaha Lucifer called Asmodeus the dim bulb

I mean he's not wrong, Asmodeus has been completely idiotic all episode. And of course, narratively, his "evil plans" are just self-interest which will endanger the entire world because even if Lucifer is a twat, he has a point about the coming danger of Michael, and Asmodeus just refuses to see the danger, which is all kinds of various political commentary, and using his era aesthetic to say this kind of thinking is such a throwback...

I think this might be the most confused Cas has ever been about if he should stab someone or not - if he actually WANTS to defend Lucifer. Not really, but Asmodeus seems like a bigger problem because at least Lucifer isn't trying to kill him.

I hope this just randomly gets Asmodeus killed.

Or Lucifer

Asmodeus just called Lucifer "screwable"... do they even know what they said? :P

EEEP there was a Margiekugel sign and it just flickered off

"Nick's bar" pfft because Lucifer?

It seems like Sam and Dean are too late and Asmodeus already made off with everyone?

I hope Cas is okay

being held captive by that idiot seems like a fate worse than death. You're going to get villain monologues all day.

Anyway fight fight fight

Good fight.

Where did DHJ even come from?

that was a ridiculous nonsense about how he escaped. I also will die if he took Dorothy's bike and not his own left stashed there. Also he nodded at Dean like hey you didn't cavity search me like you should have, which... Is he actually Ketch?

He's actually Ketch

Of course that means Dean knows him very well and trusted his gut instinct on knowing Ketch to prove that he was not, in fact, the actor David Hayden Jones, chillaxing on set and being weirdly cheerful about being beaten up by the Winchesters.

Pfft he used Rowena's charm to get alive again

Well she better be fine if they're gonna use her like this.

"Is she?"

LOL Ketch ninja'd out of there

Oh good it wasn't Dorothy's bike

Considering how they use Rowena, DON'T use Mary, etc I'd have taken Dorothy's bike as a personal insult. I guess Ketch rode his over to the Bunker before 12x22.

I mean at least this means Ketch remembers he got shot and then also he revived in a sewer where he belonged because he is garbage.

Wait. He set up this whole thing in like a month or so TOPS since he got shot? If he’s been chasing witches has he even had TIME for a side business?

Oh boy, Asmodeus using Cas's voice to talk to Dean.

BAD HELLO DEAN.

That "see you soon" is also way too cheerful. It should be as much of a tip off as Cas begging Dean to come help him in the previous call.

I hope Dean sees through it.

Though it's so Buckleming-y I don't think people should be mad if he doesn't because this was them doing a smart!Dean episode.

PFFT of course they team up - colonialism from all sorts of fun angles!! The ultimate trashy white guys in suits team up.

Thanks Buckleming!

Man, I need a whole pot of detox tea now. I don't even have closing thoughts.

#13x07 #my stuff #season 13 spoilers #buckleming appropriate wank for ts #*quietly lies face down on the floor*

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crookedcrow5 · 7 years

Text

Last Words

A.N.- Welcome to headcanon central where a simple Pharmercy fic lead to this. Angela's P.O.V. first and then Fareeha's (simply because that's the order I wrote them in). Major Character Death is canonical though there is the implied deaths through the soulmate words

Apparently links mess up a post so there is a link to my Ao3 under ‘My Stuff’ on my blog

The story was on your 18th birthday, the last words your soulmate says to you will appear on your skin. Finding your soulmate is something only known in tragedies, and Angela had enough of that. Life is tough enough without those words, but Fareeha is tougher.

When she was younger, she was fearless. Of course she learned to avoid the stove top, wolves, and the town when she was alone, but she never truly feared them. She knew there were reasons behind the warnings her parents gave her and also reasons why people sometimes had wolves for pets. She wasn't afraid, merely intrigued.

She would sit and study the stove as it grew hotter, observing how it boiled the water and decided on her own that her parents' warnings were warranted. She heard neighbors and family friends say that she was well behaved and that only made her wonder what other kids were like. She even took apart all of her toys once, wanting to learn what made them work. Her parents were so shocked to find her like that, bowed over a neatly opened doll.

After that, the neighbors and family friends began to call her a genius.

Her parents just called her Angela.

She liked that name better as her mother called her over for hot chocolate, as her father told his stories, and as they both told her that they loved her before heading to bed every night. Angela felt warm and loving as they said it, while “genius” or “prodigy” felt cold and unfeeling. “Genius” was spat out sometimes by other kids and “prodigy” was a white office with a large man staring down at her while her parents talked. Despite those names, she went to bed every night feeling safe. Even though she had seen the words on her parents' skin.

Everyone knew the story: On your 18th birthday, the last words that your soulmate says to you will be written on your body. Whenever another girl on the playground wondered what hers would say, Angela always wondered why. She would sometimes sit on her father or mother's laps and examine the words on their wrists. No matter how many times she traced them though, she couldn't understand.

She started to understand when the crisis began.

Those words that adored her parents' wrists were said, shouted, as the omnics descended upon their town and the “genius” could not do anything.

They managed to get her out, giving her another name, “lucky”. She did not feel lucky. She did not feel like a genius. She felt like Angela, who understood and wanted to prevent death.

Her new house years later was large to accommodate the many kids and the woman who lived there was nice, but Angela did not call it home. It was unfamiliar; Even though it took her one day to memorize her old school, after months she could still not find her way around the massive house. Half of her said that it was because she didn't have to live here, that her house and parents would be waiting for her if she went back. Another part of her said it was because she didn't belong here.

Despite knowing multiple languages, she couldn't talk to the other kids. While she noticed them grouping up together, she stood to the side and simply watched. There were groups of twos, threes, fours, all with their different styles and mannerisms that made Angela's head spin. She didn't understand them, so she took to leaning against the house's wall as the others played in the snow.

She had almost memorized their patterns when the woman approached her. Her German was rough and Angela could hear her clearly, yet she couldn't understand. The kindness in her voice and the gentle smile reminded Angela so much of her own mother.

So when she offered her hand, Swedish running down its side, Angela took it with a dour thought: Perhaps the woman was trying to replace her mother. Angela wouldn't let the woman take the image of her mother, even as she was given one of the cups of hot chocolate. The woman, however, did not try to. She just stood there, sipping her own mug as she and Angela sat down at the long table that was connected to the kitchen. It made Angela's curiosity reach from the back of her mind before she subdued it with a sip of her drink, letting her mind think of how much better her mother's hot chocolate was.

“Swiss chocolate is the best,” the woman agreed and shocked Angela, who didn't realize she had spoken her thought out loud.

“I...I...” She stammered, unsure of whether she wanted to stay mad at the woman or apologize.

“It's okay,” the woman's voice was soft-spoken now, even though she was capable of shouting above the roar that was the immensely loud dinner table. “You're okay, Angela.”

She finally cried in front of someone that night, some of her tears dripping into the hot chocolate before she allowed the woman to pull her into a warm hug while whispering and humming things that lessened the pain. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine her mother's hug before deciding that it didn't matter, this one was just as good.

Over time, Angela felt as if she had found her place again. She did not bother the other kids' order and stuck to herself, but this time it felt like it was a choice she made. Attempts were made but Angela found that she preferred quiet, numbers, and questions over the loud play styles of the groups. The woman even seemed to understand and while she did ask Angela to come out into the fresh air every so often, she would bring her books and gave her company and answers when the young genius needed them.

As she settled, the name came back again. She had begun to pass the older children in her studies, surprising everyone in the home. But the surprise came back around to her as the woman answered her intellect with a smile.

“My husband is coming home soon,” she said one night while she helped pack up Angela's notes. “I think you'll get along with him.”

She had heard her mention her husband before, but it was the first time they met and Angela's mind was not up for the task of remembering much other than the images burnt into her mind. The most she could conjure up was that he was fighting in the crisis, much like the soldiers that picked her up and carried her to safety. She had assumed that he would be like them, tall and somewhat menacing but kind inside.

She immediately marked down soon after meeting him that assuming things were not good without much evidence.

The husband was short, shorter than her at least, and had a wide smile as he greeted his wife and kids. His arm, the one that would hold their fate, was covered completely. Eventually he picked up on her examination and gave her a small 'hmph' when he noticed her confusion.

“You must be Angela,” his accent made his words more rough, but he still gave her a smile. “I hope you've been taking to it well?”

She stared at him an extra minute before realizing what he meant and nodded.

“Yes. It's...very nice here.”

He laughed and put his heavy hand on her shoulder.

“No need to be so polite! I've heard much about you from Elina!” Being this close, she could see in his eye that he was somewhat pained. “I heard you show a lot of potential.”

The man, Torbjörn, brought Angela around the house and near the back where she couldn't remember much from the tour. He talked much on the way there, mostly to his wife or to one of his kids that had asked a question. Angela stood by, but mainly observed him, the way that he carried himself definitely showed that he was a soldier despite the friendly setting and he smelled of something heavier than gun power. She was watching his covered eye when they stopped in front of large doors.

“My workshop,” Torbjörn stated with a sigh. “Used to spend all my time here.” He looked over at Angela and she wondered how old he was. “Be careful.” Before she could ask why, he opened the doors and her eyes widened.

Machinery was everywhere and the air seemed hot as she stepped inside along with him and Elina, who had taken her hand. The man walked over to the large workbench and gestured Angela to his side.

“I used to be like you, a thinker!” He pulled out several blueprints and allowed her eyes to look them over with awe until her stomach twisted with familiarity. Among one of the pages, an omnic was displayed with all of its capabilities. “Used to. Now I'm paying for it…. So are you, I suppose” He sighed and ran a hand through his beard. “But don't let my failures scare you, Angela. You are meant for great things.” He had a small smile as he looked over to her, settling some of her anxiety. “You just have to cultivate it right.”

When Angela was arranged to further her education and she made a promise to herself to only heal, never destroy.

School had breezed her by easily as she climbed higher and faster than others. Soon she was off to college and Torbjörn promised to send her messages to let her know how he was doing with the new foundation.

Overwatch, as Angela had overheard, was becoming a tightly knit group of international responders and icons of heroism. She saw the posters in the halls but never really took a long look, instead hurrying to her next class. Scientific news was more of her field and she was sticking to it, looking into biology and health related studies. From them, her ideas blossomed and with the help of her school, she was able to make her prototypes.

Nanobots, capable of healing the body faster than anything they had so far. They were her goal, but she knew there was more. Pouring herself into work, learning more about the human body and how she could aid it, made time slip from her. Her schedule was completely based on her assignments and any free time was allocated to working on her goal.

So when Torbjörn asked her to visit, she was ready to decline until he pointed out the date. Her 18th birthday. She supposed it was natural for her to take a small break, perhaps a week, for it. She also supposed it was mainly so that her guardian would be the first to know of her soulmate's fate. He loved gossip, even with his short visits in the past she could tell that.

She could tell his love never stopped when he gleefully approached her after her flight, asking if she was excited. But she never really thought of her soulmate before. Her passion was that of her studies more than any guy or girl that passed her by. Angela still smiled when Torbjörn replied with understanding and a friendly nudge.

The question still left her mind puzzled as she relaxed in her temporary room. She was curious where the words would appear and what they would say of course, but she could not reason with herself to be excited. She might never be with her soulmate if all she had to go on was their final words.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and waited for the alarm to go off before opening them again.

Not on her arms. Not on her legs.

The bathroom connected to the guestroom had a large enough mirror, allowing her to spot the writing instantly as she turned her head over.

Across her back, near the shoulder blades, neat, curved writing made her mouth go dry.

She pulled her clothes back on before flopping back into bed, her mind racing. The writing felt like it was burning, both into her mind and on her back. Of course, she had heard of very vague last words being worse than specific ones. She didn't understand it then, but now her soulmate's writing made her feel inexplicably sad. With specific words, many were able to prolong their deaths and even have their words change for the better. But Angela did not know what to do.

She had found her place in medicine, she had found her place in her home, but now the only name that had made her feel human now made her feel sorrow again.

“Angela” was now her love's downfall.

The most logical step would be to legally change her name, but her name was all she had left of her parents. She was at odds with herself; one side wanted to keep her name, after all she hadn't even thought of her soulmate until now, why should she give up her name for them, but the other side, the more emotional side, felt the deep wounds that were the writing along her back and told her to follow her heart.

Even after the small party and the trip back home, she still could not pick just one side. Instead she went completely into her work, ignoring the burning weight on her back.

They congratulated her once she had revealed the prototype and called her a different name, Dr. Ziegler. She felt the tonal shift as she accepted her degree. She was a doctor, but not just any, she was someone the world wanted. She began receiving several grants, offers, ideas, and even thanks. She was going to change the world for the better and so she joined Overwatch.

It was different than what she was used to, with the latest equipment and great authority, but the change was definitely for the better. Her work speed increased significantly, not being hindered by the title of student or the lack of certain processes available. She was able to create a full nanobot system and implants along her spine to insure complete control of her newly-fashioned Valkyrie suit.

Even still, she did not change, focusing on her work first, especially now since her patients happened to be some of the most called-upon soldiers. It was strange to heal up your own superior, especially so when some of them would refuse to take time off for their injuries. Luckily Commanders Morrison and Reyes had stopped after a while, leaving her to continue to badger Amari not to ignore the doctor's orders.

Nonetheless, she had grown comfortable with them; ironic, as her days were stressful and filled to the brim with projects, patients, and the like. She loved being able to laugh with Reinhardt, tinker with Torbjörn, have tea with Ana, discuss with Winston, chat with Jesse, and even talk to the newest recruits like Lena. Even if some days she could feel Genji's anger piercing her or could not save someone or feel like she simply couldn't live up to expectations, they, her newest family, were there.

Which made it hard to admit that she saw where they began to fall.

Jack and Gabriel fought.

Genji joined Blackwatch.

Gérard was found, dead.

His wife was gone.

Ana was gone.

The explosion.

Those were only some of the things that happened; Dr. Ziegler could count many more. She could count Jesse's arm, several others' losses, and the weaponization of her nanobots. It seemed selfish to include the last one but with her family torn apart, Torbjörn even leaving to do whatever he decided, the word on her back burned and made it hard to breathe.

When Overwatch became no more, Dr. Ziegler redacted her previous theory that over time the pain of loss numbs.

It was years before she heard from anyone. She had heard of them plenty, tales of a Crusader, a short man, or a cowboy roaming, but she never talked to any. Perhaps it was because of her own roaming that prevented many from talking to her or because of the slight part of her that made her choose a fake name before she began healing those in need.

Regardless, Genji still managed to find her. His apology and subsequent thanks made it easier to sleep at night. Not by much, but she was still glad that he had found peace with Zenyatta's help.

She supposed it would be too selfish to ask for the nightmares to stop, so she replied to say that she was fine. It was clearly the opposite when she heard the recall. She could not leave the urgent patients that she had to don a costume and deal with the people that she had since burned bridges with. People who she thought of as family. People who had betrayed her and many others. It hurt to think that her name was among them and only increased pressure on her back.

It was fascinating that the spine implants did not affect the pain whatsoever, but she did not like to linger on it for long. There were more important things than finding the reason behind the inescapable sorrow, like how the medical tents began to get targeted. The thought did not entrap her for long. Their company had already asked of the assistance of a security team, all she had to do was continue working and keep her pistol reluctantly close. That's all.

Instead, she was met with a ghost.

Captain Fareeha Amari looked so much like her mother, having grown into a tall soldier with a steady gaze. The Raptora suit did nothing but add to the calculated stance that she had while guarding, its royal blue and yellow shining brightly in the sun. She too often had to give the Captain more than one glance, her heart-rate skyrocketing as she caught sight of the tattoo adorning her eye.

But then they began to talk, and that was the hardest part.

At first it was a little awkward, having to find the place to switch between professional and casual. The Captain, however, was just as friendly as she was stern. Captain Amari managed to ground her before her thoughts carried her too far, with a certain tone that many soldiers probably thanked. The Captain managed to find time to ensure that she ate meals, joking that the “best doctor in the world” needed someone to give her a checkup every now and then. In return, Dr. Ziegler reprimanded her when she would push herself too far for others, even if the Captain insisted that it was for the greater good.

Stubborn, the doctor thought at first. Strong, came next as Captain Amari finished a fight and carried the wounded to her tent. Charming surprised her as the Captain sat by the tent and smiled at her.

At night, she was Dr. Ziegler again, talking to a wonderful friend. Just in a couple nights, they had managed to catch up despite the many years they were far apart. It was one part of the past that she did welcome.

But of course the Captain was connected to the other parts that Dr. Ziegler wished to forget, and where she had already been a part of the good, the Captain never had her chance. She still spoke of Overwatch with softness in her voice, dreams from long ago that shattered when everything burned to the ground. Dr. Ziegler could still see her holding onto the presence of old soldiers long gone, and wondered if the Raptora's color was something Captain Amari chose or if she simply approved. They were her family too.

Her secret ate at her every time their thoughts turned to previous days. She could see the Captain doing well with the newly-reborn team, to the point where her own sense of justice might prevent another fall. The stubbornness and battle-prowess the Captain managed to carry on her wings would help Overwatch to no end, as would her charm and kindness.

One night, she had managed to speak up about the unwanted recall. The Captain's eyes were a mixture of emotion that she could not decipher.

They discussed-argued-about it through most of the night, though Captain Amari never raised her voice. She did not need to. Her points were precise and clear, Dr. Ziegler was the one who could not understand again.

“You should think about it,” the Captain said while paused in the exit, her eyes pained at the sight of Dr. Ziegler's walls crumbling and revealing fear. “You could do them a lot of good, Angela. More than you think.”

She wished she could think about it but she remained there, heart stuck in her throat as Fareeha's voice rang in her head. Dr. Ziegler sat in her bed that night, staring at the ceiling and unable to sleep. For the first time in a long while, her name was said warmly. For the first time in a long while, her back did not hurt at the name's utterance. Not for the first time, her eyes welled with tears and she missed her family and the one she so willingly threw away.

“You should come with me,” Angela replied the next day.

Overwatch was the opposite of paradise, something Dr. Ziegler learned long ago, but the new operations still carried a lighter weight despite the overwhelming odds. It was still illegal for many of the previous members to even be in the same room and yet old friendships met in the dark of night, sharing hot drinks and memories.

At first, it felt like torture to Dr. Ziegler, as she had to face some of her greatest regrets. Her doctor persona served her well however, and she was able to keep the biting questions down as she looked over Genji's suit, glanced too long at Jesse's arm, or even seen Torbjörn.

She had to wall herself while stabilizing the remaining few that were capable of fighting for the world.

And yet it did not stop the Captain.

She would walk in at hours that Dr. Ziegler was not paying attention to and nudge her over to the mess hall. Early mornings and late night regrets had the Captain meeting her in the kitchen with an extra cup of coffee, just how she liked it. She would even foolishly hurt herself only to come into Dr. Ziegler's office with a grin and a cheeky remark, even when it was just a light scratch, all because she knew Dr. Ziegler would not let her stay in her office otherwise.

If she were capable, Angela would have said that the jokes and the visits were flirting.

But her back itched, burned, with pain and sorrow and overwhelming guilt.

She decided long ago that she had caused enough pain. She would not drag down the one person who made her feel lighter, above the clouds, even without the Valkyrie suit.

With the suit, however, the two made an inseparable pair: Mercy and Pharah, and her back felt light as another's wings lifted her higher.

With Pharah, Mercy was able to reach vantage points and fly quickly to anyone who had strayed from the group and needed help. If the doctor called it, the Captain would execute their plan flawlessly, providing cover fire and planning an escape route, even if her shining cobalt suit attracted the worst kinds of attention.

It left Mercy with determination and allowed her to finally reach those who were injured in rough spaces.

But Dr. Ziegler criticized the slight recklessness in some of the gestures. Even though she trusted Pharah with her life, there were times where close sniper fire and misplaced rockets happened and it would cause her heart to leap out of her chest and her wings to burn as if they were fire. Yet Pharah remained calm, unless there was a quiet moment and she would turn and her mouth would quirk up into a smile that flared up Dr. Ziegler's anger. Or at least, her temperature, as the Valkyrie system would pick up on her heated face.

Even after the battle, after Dr. Ziegler patched up those in need, that smile would be there again, waiting in front of her office door with a bottle of water and a question of how she was feeling.

“We can't have a doctor get sick now can we?”

The point was sound but...

She couldn't understand it all.

Until Lena started smirking at her as she thanked Fareeha for the coffee.

“What?” She sharply whispered, unnerved by her old friend's gaze.

“You two are so cute,” Lena simply giggled. “You guys remind me of me and Em!”

Oh.

Dr. Ziegler could feel her face heat up and her stomach twisted with something that she refused to believe was embarrassment.

“I,” her voice cracked despite her throat being completely fine. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Aw, see? You get all flustered about her!” Lena smiled and twirled her fork in her hand. “Don't worry any, doc. It's okay to get flustered around cute girls!”

Something within her willed Dr. Ziegler to slap a hand over Lena's mouth, just in case Fareeha would overhear.

It proved to be a bad idea, since the Brit licked her hand in response.

“Lena!”

“Ugh, that was bad,” Lena twisted her face before gulping down some water. “Sorry Doc, instinct. But really, you two work well together. Maybe give it some thought, yeah?”

So she did.

Night after night, long after the subject of her troubled thoughts had walked her to her room, Dr. Ziegler would lie there and analyze everything she could. Occam's razor, she decided, was not as reliable as others said it was. All mild symptoms pointed towards a more emotional problem than she usually thought of. Or more she didn't want to think of.

The sorrow on her back only lifted when Fareeha would approach her as she always did. She would catch herself smiling long after Fareeha had left. Pharah's suit always caught her glance as her breath would get caught in her throat.

She was in love.

Angela was in love, despite every part of her that screamed that she did not deserve it. Except for the words on her back, which only lessened its pain as the revelation clicked in her mind.

Angela cried that night even though she had not slept enough for a nightmare.

She had believed that enough makeup and coffee would get her through the coming day as it had during university, however, she had overlooked the very variable that occupied her mind.

Fareeha walked into the kitchen with brief surprise before exchanging the look for harsh suspicion. The doctor said good morning, but only glanced at her once, trying to prevent her eyes from straying as she knew they would, and repeating to herself the phrase that stuck with her last night: Fareeha deserved better.

She deserved someone who could fight alongside her without casting disgust upon drawing a weapon. She deserved someone who was emotionally stable, who could help with the nightmares and worries. She deserved someone who could help her protect life instead of trailing guilt, regret, and death behind them. She deserved someone who did not lie to her when she asked if they were okay.

“Angela,” her back burned as Fareeha sighed. “I know you're lying. If you can't trust me, that's fine, but do take care of yourself.” Her hand moved over Angela's, which was shaking.

“I...I do trust you,” she managed to choke out. “I just...”

Fareeha's gaze softened and it hit Angela's heart. She did not deserve someone so kind or so strong, who wrapped her in a hug and made her believe she would not let go.

“Deep breaths…” She gently soothed the sadness welling in Angela. “You'll be okay.”

She wasn't okay for a moment and in her emotional state, she admitted her closed-off heart.

“I like you Fareeha. I just don't want...” Her parents, her disintegrated relationship with Torbjörn, Jack, Gabriel, Ana. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Fareeha's mouth quirked up before settling down.

“You won't. You haven't.” She smoothed down a part of Angela's unruly hair. “You care deeply about your friends, your family. To the point where you're willing to chase them down and tell them how stupid they can be while you heal them. To the point where you hide your own problems in favor of others.”

Angela tried to speak up, but Fareeha's look cut her argument off.

“I know you don't get good sleep, don't hide it further. It's not uncommon; nightmares.” She sighed before smiling and building warmth in Angela's chest. “But it's okay.”

She didn't believe it was, but if there was one thing she could believe in, it was Fareeha.

When she was younger, she was fearless. Limits were challenges: sneaking off with a packet of sweets, climbing the highest tree, and visiting a young man with a Stetson. Her mother often warned her of things she should not do, but if her mother did them, so could she. She was destined to be great, powerful, and protect all, a couple broken bones were nothing despite her tears' best efforts to say otherwise.

Her mother would still sit and look over her wounds with a sharp eye, click her tongue, and bring her close for either a story or a lecture. She infinitely loved the stories more than the lectures, but her mother so often opened her mind more to the world every time a lecture clicked. A rough hand would reach out to pull her away from fire and towards adventure and she always looked forward to it.

Cuts and bruises meant little in the grand scheme of things, Fareeha decided early. Her mother would stop her before too much damage could be done and more often than not, her excursions ended up helping someone. And that's all she wanted to do.

Her mother was a hero, Reinhardt was a hero, Gabriel was a hero, Jack was a hero, and she wanted to be one. Her announcements and declarations were often met with laughter or smiles and she honestly did not know whether to think of that as a victory or not. It wasn't until later that the smiles became sadder and the laughter more hollow, but at the moment, she enjoyed making people “happy”. It was a natural to see her walking around and cracking jokes at anyone who passed by. Adults were too gloomy sometimes, but at the time she still was not allowed to know why.

But her mother never accounted on her finding out on her own, even if it didn't completely click at once.

Little things, like spiked coffee, rings under eyes, tired laughter, all started piling up overtime, letting her see tears, nightmares, and pure panic.

The heroes needed a hero, so she tried her best to continue onward. Despite the length of her limbs feeling too long, her sudden spikes of growth, and harsher environments, she still carried that unspoken promise for years. But when she finally spoke of it, a casual comment on the recruitment of the Egyptian army across a small table, things only grew harder as her mother's gaze grew heated.

She forbid her from joining any sort of military, which barred her entry to Overwatch completely and churned anger and fire in Fareeha's chest.

Her mother, a hero, would not allow her daughter to follow in her steps. For once, Fareeha could not understand her mother, her choice. Everything she did, her mother walled off, preventing her from feeling like her own choice was something she could choose.

But then her 18th birthday rocked the heated arguments and burning pain in her heart. On her 18th birthday, like any others, the final words of her soulmate appeared. Stretched across her back, the messy scrawl of English spread, and Fareeha's eyes widened.

She gripped the counter until her knuckles were pale, tears threatening to break into sobs. The words across her back might have been hopeful in other situations, but the bittersweet taste rolled over her tongue. When she was younger, and did not quite understand death, she thought that soulmates would last forever, much like her mother's love. But as she looked back on the words, she smiled. If her soulmate had such hope, then Fareeha would make sure to carry it until her last breath, and she would make sure that it would never be too soon.

“You will be okay, Fareeha.”

It was not easy, but the path she tread, she made sure, was fulfilling. Her mother had passed, on the field and with no body to speak of, and Fareeha laid her to rest with a promise to make her proud. The military gave no leniency, after all, she was the child of the world's greatest sniper but she was also her own woman. It gave her a mixed bag of feelings, one she tried to drown out as much as she could as it would definitely not help on the battlefield if she suddenly could not breathe when sadness choked her heart. She simply added it to the weight on her back and carried on.

Her determination ended up completing any mission she was sent on. Exemplary, some of her commanding officers commented, while others stood in her face and told her instead “Expected of an Amari”. It took her all of her will not to snap back, but to instead advance past them.

She was an Amari, but she was also her own woman, one who would live no matter what.

She was a powerful force in battle, they started to say. Someone who turned tides of fate and changed many others' goodbyes into “welcome homes”. And yet, she was still honorably discharged. The “honorably” felt silent though as her legs collapsed underneath her weight.

Fareeha was out of control of her path for a while, her feet misstepping whenever she tried to go off the path the doctors recommended. It felt frustrating and humiliating. Whenever she wasn't focusing on her recovery, she thought back to previous battles and previous losses. She remembered bullets and explosions that shook her core and rocketed her heart rate to the point where the monitors alerted the nurses. But she was fine. Wounded, but they closed after months.

She was finally able to walk out of the hospital and back to her apartment where the doors for her future closed again.

Overwatch was no more. Her aim was shaken. Her mother was alive. No matter what the words along her back said, she did not feel like it was going to be okay.

She felt aimless during that time, too much energy to be contained inside of a room, looking at articles and job offerings. Her feet turned to walking out in town, helping anyone along the way who needed it. It usually ended up with a couple scratches or bruises for the morning, but she would never turn away when someone thought they could bully another. She met peculiar people that way.

One was an old woman who specialized in tea making for any occasion. Because of her insistence after Fareeha caught some of her packages before they fell, they both had a cup of tea together. Admittedly, she had not had one since she left her mother's care. When the woman asked, Fareeha chuckled and omitted that she tended to add sweets to her tea that drove her mother crazy. That night it made her think of an Omnic pair that she had met and called the number on their business card. Fortunately, they knew someone who specialized in tattoos.

With the Udjat under her eye, she had taken wing underneath Helix International. Quite literally as her history in college and in the military signed her up automatically towards the Raptora project. Not much but crude designs and brief ideas were shared, as they only intended her to pilot it, but had her interest hooked.

During the development of the new line of suits, they had her squad run exercises, tests, and basic greetings. It felt silly almost to open up to them, so she stayed professional, they had their missions to complete after all. But there was something special about the group, much like a group of birds in the sky. They each had their own ways of dealing with the suit and flight, it was rather dizzying to think of the strategic possibilities. The Captain managed to adapt the most, offering a hand to those who needed it. Lieutenant Amari did not need it.

Their names came easily, as did their codenames, when they were sent on their first mission.

The second had one different name.

The third had more.

The fourth nearly took her life as one blew up beside her.

The fifth made a smaller change.

The sixth, she made herself stop counting.

Missions came and went, but each one benefited the Raptora, whether or not the rest of her squad believed it. The Captain met her with a tight frown and a tired sigh, but she knew not to budge. They were helping the world by following the missions. Even those fallen had helped, and engrained their names into her mind whether she liked it or not. At times, she would close her eyes and thank them for their service. Other times, she would jolt up in bed and her back felt as if it were on fire. As if the jets on her back were hit and redirected their force right across her shoulder blades.

As if the wings she carried herself on were clipped.

She stumbled out of her quarters and into the large room that connected her squad together. Her body was coated in sweat despite her __ to the heat, and her head felt heavy. Echoes of the past ringed in her ears as she grabbed a bottle of water, making her miss the footsteps behind her.

“Horus, right?”

Her body tensed as she was knocked out of her thoughts by the voice and presence that joined her.

“Udjat, the eye of horus. Protection,” Okoro hummed. “I assume it would look better without bags under your eyes.”

His tone was light, as if weary of treading to close to the “cold, calculated Lieutenant” as some of them called her. She snorted.

“Just a rough night, Okoro, I will be back in bed shortly.”

And yet he stayed there as the silence between them grew, leaning against the counter as she downed the water. It felt slightly unnerving, not knowing if he wanted her to speak or if he was trying to think. She was a hardened soldier, one who had taken many lives and great leaps for the sake of the world, and yet she felt awkward towards interaction between coworkers. Perhaps it was because she did not want to think of fallen coworkers' lives. The very thought made her back burn again and she tossed the empty bottle in the trash.

As she turned to leave for her bunk, he spoke up again.

“It is not uncommon, you know? Nightmares?” Okoro looked up from the wall he had been staring at and the writing on her back tingled. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, Lieutenant Amari.”

She unconsciously clenched her fist.

“I know, Okoro.”

He waited a moment as her tension faded.

“I'm always available if you need someone to listen. I promise I don't just dream of electric sheep.” His voice lifted in humor, letting her know she was free to laugh. She chuckled.

“I'm sure you don't. It's just a bit personal.”

“When is it not? But it's what makes you you.” Okoro seemed to be smiling. “And I know that if you care that much about people, you are a good person.”

She flinched slightly.

“How did-”

“It is not uncommon in soldiers,” Okoro repeated. “Nightmares, that is.”

“Ah,” she said, unsure of what to say. He seemed to take it as acknowledgment.

“Remember, I'm always available. We have to stick together in these times…” His voice trailed off as the weight of recent anti-omnic activity popped in her mind. “Ah, and if I am not, I'm certain the rest of the squad will be happy to.” It made her nod towards him.

“I will keep that in mind, thank you Okoro.”

“No need to thank me,” he asserted. “I merely wish look out for you all...” He seemed almost embarrassed. “Everyone is like a family here.”

She paused, a small piece of her mind clicking. A family. She had already lost one, she could not cling to another. But her family wanted what was good for the world and as luck would have it, so did this one.

“Okoro?” She chuckled. “I agree.”

The man or the mission?

The man or the mission, Fareeha?

The question rocked in her mind as the Omnics closed in and Anubis towered above them and her family was in shambles again.

Tariq was going to be crushed, Saleh was shot, the Captain was gone, Okoro took his own life to protect them.

His family.

Her family.

She abandoned the clear shot at Anubis to instead grab Tariq.

Justice did not need the protection. It did not need their missions. It did not need her chasing after the criminals first and leaving the victims behind to thank her later. Justice was the protector.

She needed to protect the innocent, not just punish the guilty.

And as she looked back on the graves of the fallen, she made them a promise to. Later she chuckled, watching Tariq and Saleh squabble over dinner, and wondered if she should start keeping a list of large promises she made.

Captain Amari did not expect one promise she made to herself come true, however. After having met Dr. Angela Ziegler, a whole new aspect of life crept up into her heart. She found herself joking with the doctor more, stopping by to check on her more times than needed, and even bringing out meals for her because more often than not, she found that the doctor was really bad at taking care of herself. “More” was the whole crux of it, she simply did more when the doctor was involved, something that her squad took notice of.

“Soooo,” Saleh slid over during dinner with a smug smirk. “Heard you were with Dr. Victoria?”

The Captain blinked for a moment before remembering the doctor's fake name.

“Ah yes, she needed assistance carrying a patient and there was no nurse nearby.” A partial lie, she was checking up on the doctor when she saw her lift a patient with great care. The sight of the man being quite larger than her prompted Captain Amari to ask if she needed help. Angela answered with a snort before laying the man down on a clean cot and insisting that she was fine.

“Riiiight,” he drawled out and nudged her side. “But don't you want to be “with” her?”

His smirk only grew as her blush did and she placed a heavy hand on his shoulder to prevent him from standing up and shouting to the squad that their Captain had a crush.

“Tell anyone and I'll make sure you suffer.” The threat was slightly exaggerated, but she had before called them out for harsh training regimens and cleaning duty so Saleh shivered and backed off.

The thought never escaped her though, merely adding onto the attraction she felt. She tried shaking it off but something felt different this time. The jets on her back felt weightless and the skies above were clear.

Even when she found out about Angela's disagreement towards the recall. She had her reasons, Mercy was a hard title to keep when you had to harm others to heal, and Captain Amari respected that. Amari was a difficult title too, after all.

But as she saluted them, her squad did not seem to care that she was an Amari, but that she was Pharah. Helix signed her request fast and quickly brushed the statement under the rug, which was surprising but good. Her team also reasonably responded to the idea, copying her salute before each giving her their goodbyes.

“Be sure to write, alright?!” Saleh screamed over the sounds of the engines with his trademark stupid grin. “I'll be sure to take care of these clowns!”

“I'm sure you won't let me clown!” She smirked and boarded the aircraft before the groans reached her ears.

“That was terrible. You're terrible.” Angela stood beside her, holding back her laughter but failing to stop her smile that made Fareeha spew as many puns as she could as they made their way to Gibraltar. Each one managed to pull Angela further into the playful mood and lifted Fareeha's heart further.

Mercy and Pharah were terrors among the new recruits, being able to synchronize their patterns together to reach new heights both literally and metaphorically. Mercy, with her ability to heal and empower Pharah, found safety whenever Pharah was near. Pharah, with her might and her will, found peace and comfort whenever the Caduceus staff locked onto her. She battled within before sighing and admitting to herself that it was because she knew Mercy was still alive and fighting.

It was a peculiar feeling at first, it almost felt like the duo were invincible together. But nothing was invincible, nor perfect. Fareeha learned that long ago.

Angela avoided her gaze that morning, but she knew the doctor well enough to know that she had not slept well. Her eyes, though she did not get a better look, seemed to be red and puffy.

Fareeha could only guess, as she often did with the doctor and prayed that she could say something right, that the doctor had a nightmare.

She might have been wrong, but it did not matter as Angela's words made her heart flutter but soon plummet back down. Angela liked her; the statement echoed in her mind but she shoved it aside to instead pull the doctor into a hug. Angela's cries made the words on Fareeha's back gain weight, as if her tears were rain weighing down wings. But they would fly again.

They were not invincible. Far from it, but-

“You will be okay, Angela.”

They were going to be okay.

#my writing #overwatch #overwatch pharah #overwatch mercy #overwatch pharmercy #pharmercy #fareeha amari #angela ziegler #rocket angel #canon until said otherwise #soulmate marks au

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