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#her words in 5x03 reminded me of this song
minttobe-treehill · 2 years
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Bring me to your house and tell me
‘sorry for the mess’, "hey I don't mind".
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gates-keeper · 3 years
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Part 1: “Words of Affirmation” Destiel Quotes & Parallels
I’m sure someone’s done this before me and done it better, but I’m compiling a huge Destiel evidence docket for no reason. Anyone got any quotes to add?
Comments From Outside Characters
To Dean
Uriel: “He has this weakness. He likes you.” (4x10)
Balthazar: “You have me confused with the other angel. You know, the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you.” (6x17)
Hester: “The first time Castiel laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost.” (7x21)
Meg: “He was your boyfriend first.” (7x23)
Charlie: “What about Castiel? He seems helpful. And dreamy.” (8x20)
Marie: “Although we do explore the nature of Destiel in Act 2.” (10x5)
Sam: “Shouldn’t it be Deastiel?” He then goes on to tease Dean with “Sastiel” which Dean takes negatively. (10x5)
Dean: “This Cas is looking at me weird.��� Sam: “So like the real Cas then.” (15x14) 
To Castiel
Hannah: “We gave you our trust. Don’t lose it over one man.” (9x22)
Metatron: “His true weakness is revealed. He’s in love…with humanity.” (9x22)
Metatron: “Oh, that’s right. To save Dean Winchester. That was your goal, right? I mean, you draped yourself in the flag of heaven, but, ultimately, it was about saving one human, right?” (9x23)
Ishim: “I’m going to cure you of your human weakness [i.e. Dean]” (12x10)
The Empty: “I have tiptoed through all your little tulips. Your memories, your little feelings, yes. I know what you hate. I know who you love…There is nothing for you back there.” (13x4)
Demon: “I thought you were joined at the… (looks down) everything.” (14x01)
There are also several instances where other characters try to poke at insecurities regarding their relationship.
Naomi: “You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way.” (8x19)
Casifer: “There comes a time when every relationship has run its course.” (11x18)
Michael!Dean: “You only tolerate the angel because you think you owe him, because he ‘gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition.’ Or whatever.” (14x10)
Comments From Dean
To Cas
“There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. And two, you are not going to die a virgin.” (5x03) 
“So what? I’m Thelma and you’re Louise and we’re just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?” (5x03)
“You know what? Blow me, Cas.” (5x18)
“Cas, not for nothing, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.” (5x18)
“Look, I don’t need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I’ve failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don’t need it!” (8x07)
“We need you. I need you.” 
For more on this quote see the “We vs. I” section.
To Other Characters
Bobby: “I think maybe it’s time you made a call.” Dean: “Why does it always gotta be me that makes the call, huh? It’s not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude’s busy.” (Cas appears) Dean: “Get out of my ass.” Cas: “I was never in your… (head tilt)” (6x19)
“On my car…. He showed up naked… covered in bees.” (7x23)
While Cas suffered from some mental issues at the time, it seems somewhat significant that he sought Dean out under the circumstances, not Sam, etc.
“There’s things… people… feelings that I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time.” (10x16)
“My shy but devastatingly handsome friend here” (12x12)
“He came into my room and he played me.” (12x19)
“Let’s see. Crowley’s dead, Kelly’s dead, Cas is—Mom’s gone.” (13x01)
Dean’s inability to list Cas’s death singles him out as the most devastating of the losses.
“We’ve lost everything. And now you’re gonna bring him back.” (13x01)
While some people have heard this as “bring ‘em back”, the Netflix captions and transcripts I have been able to find say “him.”
“And Cas bought it. And you know what it got him? It got him dead! Now you may be able to forget about that, but I can't!” (13x03)
“I have a family.” (In response to John Winchester lamenting Dean doesn’t have a wife and kids) (14x13)
Comments From Cas
To Dean
“I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. They feel I've begun to express emotions. The doorways to doubt.” (4x16)
“I’m hunted. I rebelled. And I did it—all of it—for you.” (5x02)
“I gave everything for you. And this is what you give to me.” (5x18)
“I do everything that you ask. I always come when you call.” (6x21)
“So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord.” (6x22)
Before taking on the role of God, Cas seemed very concerned with Dean’s forgiveness/acceptance/love. It is interesting that, as God, that was the first thing he asked for, turning from Sam (who had just stabbed him) to Dean to ask for love.
“Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me.” (10x22)
“I love you. I love all of you.” (Arguably to the group, but the first “I love you” can be seen as Dean-specific, especially since it cuts to Dean after being said.) (12x12)
“You mean too much to me. To everything.” (12x9) (To Mary, Sam, and Dean. However, the camera immediately cuts to Dean specifically, even though he is in the back of the group).
“I’m your Huckleberry.” (13x06)
Cas love confession (15x18)
To Other Characters
“Dean and I do share a more profound bond.” (6x03)
“I won’t hurt Dean.” (8x17)
This is said as Castiel is breaking away from Naomi’s mind control—mind control she fostered specifically by having Cas kill a thousand versions of Dean. This implies she knows that Cas’s strongest loyalty is to Dean, not Sam, or humans in general.
“The point is that they [Dean & Sam] were here at all and you got to know them, you -- When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.” (14x14)
“You know, Dean, he... he feels things more acutely than any human I've ever known.” (15x13)
Other Comments
Reaper: “How do I start looking for this... Castiel?” Bartholomew: “I got one word for you. Winchester.”
Rowena: “An Angel of the Lord, shattered at the altar of Winchester.”
Use of We vs. I
In the crypt scene in Season 8, Dean tells Cas, “We need you.” This is not enough to stop Cas’s actions. When the language switches to “I need you,” Cas drops the angel blade.
We can clearly see that Dean tries to put up barriers about how he really feels about Cas in his use of “We.” For example, after showing the audience many scenes of Dean, not Sam, frantically trying to call Cas, we get the following lines:
“So not only were you ditching us, but you were also ignoring us?”
“With everything that's going on, you can't just go dark like that. We didn't know what happened to you. We were worried. That's not okay.”
It’s clear that these “we’s” are really “I’s”
In the alternate future presented in 15x9, Sam asks Dean, “What’s happened to you Dean… ever since…?” to which Dean responds, “Ever since what? We lost pretty much everyone we’ve ever cared about? Ever since the Mark made Cas go crazy and I had to bury him in a Malak box… ever since then?” While he acknowledges Sam’s losses as well, his switch to “I” in reference to Cas implies that Cas’s loss belongs especially to him.
(Mostly) Verbal Parallels to Other Couples
In 1x01 (start at 2:27), Dean pulls Sam away from a dead Jess in a direct parallel to how Sam pulls Dean away from Cas in 12x23
Following Jessica’s death, Sam keeps seeing glimpses of her as he and Dean travel around in the Impala. Dean does the same in Season 8 following his return from Purgatory without Cas.
David from “Bloodlines” (9x20) tells his love interest, “I was there. Where were you?” which is the same thing Dean says to Cas in “The Man Who Would Be King” (6x20)
When asking Dean whether he’s in love with Cassie, Dean gives a similar response to what he will say in 10x5 when asked about Destiel.
Destiel is paralleled with their counterparts from the Supernatural play who are “a couple in real life” (10x5)
Cain compares himself to Dean in Season 10. He describes the significant kills of his life (The Knights of Hell, his wife Collette, and his brother Abel) and tells Dean that he will follow his same pattern by killing the King of Hell Crowley, Castiel, then Sam. It is also mentioned that all Collette asked of Cain was “to stop,” which is the same language Cas uses with Dean in 10x22.
Dean explains how his parents fell in love to prove his identity to Mary in 12x1, “He was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed.” Later in this same season (12x19), Dean gives Cas a homemade mixtape of his favorite Zeppelin songs.
Ishim fell in love with a human named Lily Sunder who ultimately left him for someone else. When trying to recruit Castiel, he compares Dean to her.
Dean questions how much of their life has been controlled by God. Cas states, “You asked, ‘What about all of this is real?’ We are.” (15x02) Later, they find out that God has been using Eileen to spy on the Winchesters. She says, “After what happened, I don’t know what’s real anymore.” Sam kisses her, stating “I know that was real.” (15x09)
PART 2 “Physical Touch” Now Finished
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Those who weave (Act I, Ch 1)
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Those who weave Masterlist
Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Ivar/Freydis (I warned ya)
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: 18+, smut, and then just the usual stuff for this story. The general warnings can be found on the masterlist, please keep them in mind because I won’t warn those in specific chapters.
A/N: So, here’s the first chapter! I hope you like this, I would love to hear your thoughts on this! Fair warning this takes place in an very Alternate Universe lol, I hope to explain it well within the story itself, but if I don’t just shoot me an ask and I’ll bullet point the main changes or smth. For character ages, think around 6b, diverts greately from 5b canon onwards tho.
Also, there’s passing reference to an AU version of Ivar and Freydis’ first interaction (in 5x03), you can find it here. Passing mention, nothing more, but still, it’s there if you wanna read it.
The dream is always the same, the boat is always flimsy underneath you, the waters are always gentle around you.
And the wanderer is always kind towards you.
“If you could ask the Gods for one thing, and one thing alone…tell me, wanderer, what would that be?”
The question is always the same too. And so is your answer.
Looking into his eyes you cannot help but think back to the waters you are so used to seeing around you in your dreams. The endless blue of his eyes that, like the all-encompassing waves of your dreams, try to understand it all, reach it all, by a look alone.
Like now, as he puts heavy hands on the sides of your hips and brings you closer, until you are standing between his legs.
You search his gaze, and though all you can think of still is the endless blue of a surprisingly calm sea, it is you who asks,
“What is it you want, Ivar?”
Head tilted to the side, he doesn’t hesitate to retort, “You.”
“You have me.” You promise playfully, endlessly amused at the annoyed narrowing of his eyes.
“Are you planning on being difficult for much longer?”
“That depends.” You reply, a little sing-song in your words and a growing smile on your lips as you wait for Ivar to bite the bait.
“On what?”
“Will you tell me what it is you want?”
His shoulders rise and fall with a deep angry sigh, but after a moment he gains a glint in his eye, and his hands on your sides creep lower, venturing down the curve of your ass.
“I want to use my tongue on you, have you hold yourself over my face as I make you shake and scream my name,” He tells you, sending a pang of heat through you. His eyes remain on you, hungry, as he continues, “And then I want to be inside you, deep inside you while you are still coming down from your high so I can feel you tight over my-…”
“That is not what I-…”
“You asked, love.” He interrupts, annoyingly satisfied with himself.
You cannot help the effect of his words on you, and even as your roll your eyes pushing lightly at his chest, there’s a part of you that feels heat settle low in your belly at his words.
Ivar grasps your wrists as he falls back on the bed, tugging you forward until you are held above him face to face.
You don’t even consider stopping yourself from leaning down and kissing him. How could you, when he looks so lustful and open and yours?
The errant thought that he very much isn’t all of those things is quickly pushed away by the heady daze of lust that settles over you, even now as you exchange slow and languid kisses. Fire-like warmth takes over, an ember awaiting only the faintest change in the wind to start a wildfire.
You kiss him and let yourself forget, you kiss him and give your hands free reign over him, you kiss him and forget to think or feel anything that isn’t him, that isn’t this.
Ivar pulls back, just slightly, just enough so that he can speak, but when your eyes open to look at him the words die in his throat.
You take in the way his cheeks and the top of his ears still after all this time sport the faint shade of red, the way his gaze seems a little out of focus when your kiss-bitten lips pull into a smile, and realize whatever it is he was to ask for you would gladly give.
Thankfully, his request is simple enough, in more ways than one.
A petulant tug at the edge of your nightdress, and a gruff, “Off.”
You quirk your eyebrow, teasing, “Is that what you want?”
His chest expands under you with a heavy breath, “I swear by all the Gods, woman…”
“Don’t try to threaten me,” You chastise, one last peck against his lips before you lean back to take off your dress. “It never works.”
His eyes rake over you, painstakingly slow and burning you in the hunger that shines in them, a reverent edge to the way he licks his lips as he takes in your naked body that makes you feel as if this were the first time.
You take a step closer, and when Ivar’s eyes return to you, he tilts his head to the side, “Doesn’t it?”
You roll your eyes, “Arrogance isn’t a good look on you.”
“That wasn’t what you said wh-…ah.” His words die in a soft sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan when you slide one hand between his legs, cupping his hardening cock and drinking in the sight before you.
You don’t think there will ever come a day you don’t treasure this, the way he gasps, the way his eyes flutter shut, the way he tilts his head back and bares his throat to you.
Pressing your body against his, you move your hand to reach for him under the pants he wears, grasping at him just in between softly and roughly, and kiss a trail along his jawline as you move your hand up and down over his cock, passing the pad of your thumb over the tip.
A call of your name, breathy, beseeching, and all thought other than having him leaves your mind.
You make quick work of the laces of his pants, and slide them off his legs until there is nothing in between the two of you, until the warmth of his skin seeps into yours and makes the already flaming embers flicker and rage into heat that pools low in your belly and clouds your thoughts.
Straddling him, you kiss him as his hands bring you flush against him, unintentionally torturous drag of his hard cock against your center making you tremble.
Ivar surges against you, one hand splayed at your back to bring you as close as he can, chest pressed against yours and mouth hungry over the skin of your neck. Your hands grasp where they can at fever-warm skin, but before you can lost much more of your mind, your hand presses lightly at the base of his throat and forces him once again on his back.
There’s a growing smile on Ivar’s lips that speaks of hunger, a hunger you feel snarling and desperate inside of you as well, a hunger that pools low on your belly, that makes you bite your lip as you take him in.
There’s a moment, a breath or two, a pause that tortures you as much as him, where you just admire the way his body looks, naked in the low and warm light of your home.
Unable to wait any longer, you straddle him once again, a pang of heat running through you when he dutifully stays on his back, looking up at you with hunger and desire clearly written in his darkened gaze.
Holding yourself above him and grasping his cock with the hand not on his chest, you line him up with your entrance, but not before betraying a smile and pressing,
“What is it you want, Ivar?”
This time it is a surrender, it is a plea, it is a gasp, “You.”
____
It is known men sleep with other women when they are away from their wives, you know this. It is known they sometimes bring women bearing their child back to their homes, a bizarre war prize. Though the most likely outcome is that the two part ways, and the men return to their homes and their wives; and the women they chose to keep their bed warms during the raiding season move on, marry another, one that is free enough to call them their home.
You know this, and as you absently pick at a piece of bread, watching as Ivar works expertly through the process of securing the iron braces around his legs; you cannot help but remind yourself you also know many new things.
You know the cold makes his pain worse, you know he is very good with a bow and arrow, you know a flickering and soft smile can always be found on his lips when you tell him you want him, you know he has days when he irrationally tries to keep his legs a secret from you. You know him, and…that has to mean something, doesn’t it?
You are distracted from your thoughts by movement, and you watch silently the by now familiar wobble of Ivar’s crutch as he stands up, quivering under his weight until he easily finds his balance.
Straightening in his place, he extends a hand to beckon you closer.
“My love, come here,” He orders, and by the way the term of endearment you’ve stolen -taken, borrowed, but always hers- rolls of his tongue alone you have your feet helplessly trailing the distance between you. Ivar’s free hand grasps at the side of your face with more gentleness than you would have expected out of him when you first met him, and he tilts your head up to capture your mouth in his. He kisses you slowly, sweetly, reverently, and your heart breaks further with each breath you share. When you part, his brow rests against yours, and though you can feel his piercing blue gaze on you, you keep your eyes closed, “We will be returning soon, you know that.”
“I know.”
“You will be returning to Kattegat with me.” He tells you, and your body stills at his words, a furrow between your brows that Ivar reaches up to smooth with the caress of a rough thumb as if he hadn’t just said the words he did, as if things were normal.
“No, I…I have responsibilities here, I-…”
“I want you to come with me,” He insists, and any softer tone you may have fooled yourself into thinking you heard is lost when he meets your gaze with his piercing blue eyes and promises lowly, “I am not asking.”
“You never ask.”
He isn’t swayed or insulted, offering only a smile that tugs at your heart.
“Yet you still love me.”
It is an arrogant boast, nothing more than that, and it serves as a reminder for you of the mess you’ve gotten yourself into, it serves as a warning of all the ways this could end in disaster.
During the winter you spent apart, him in Kattegat with his wife and you still here in York with your duties, you told yourself you would forget about him, and life would return to the way it was before he came into it. Yet it didn’t, and somehow it didn’t for him either, because when the warriors from Kattegat returned to continue raiding into England, Ivar found you again, and…life did return to the way it was, the way it was before he ever left.
And now he will leave again, and you have made peace with it. You have made peace with him leaving you once again for the winter, and you have made peace with you not being there to be found when spring comes.
You shake your head, and insist quietly, “You are a married man.”
“I was a married man when we met, and that didn’t stop you,” He retorts, a quirk of his mouth, “I was a married man this morning.”
You look away with a sigh, “Ivar…”
His hand on the side of your face brings your eyes back to him, but you don’t find softness looking back, you don’t find the jarring warmth of eyes the color of winter; you find the probing gaze of a man looking for the answer to a question he hasn’t yet asked, you find something that looks a lot like distrust.
“What reasons do you have to stay here, hm?”
“The same you have to leave. Your life is in Kattegat, as much as mine is in York,” The words leave your lips as the hope leaves your heart. You have known, you have accepted it, but to say it is something else entirely. If you had met before, if you had met in another life, then maybe…but not this time. Searching his gaze, you sentence, “It is Fate we part ways.”
“Why is it Fate? Because you say so, hm?”
“Because you have my heart,” You sentence, trying not to show weakness at the flicker of emotion that crosses his features. “But yours belongs to someone else.”
Ivar’s eyes fall closed, and he shakes his head.
“No, no,” The barest hint of a smile, “It is yours. It was Fate that I found you,” He insists, hand trapping yours, making you pliant under his touch with the warmth of his skin and the openness in his gaze. “I believe…I believe the Gods sent you to me. If anything, finding you proves that it was true what I was told, about the Gods rewarding those who endure pain.”
And not even the warmth of his skin could stave off the cold that creeps over you when you hear the familiar words.
“And who told you that, Ivar?” You ask, a sad smile on your lips because he knows you know the answer.
“Did you believe her?”
Ivar’s shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, and you lift your eyes from their lazy exploration of the traces of ink on his bare chest to meet his eyes.
“Freydis does. To this day, she still claims there is a reason for pain, hers and mine.”
That isn’t an answer.
“Did you believe her, Ivar?”
“Of course I believed her. I wanted to believe her, I wanted-…” A sigh, and he stops himself. Eyes searching yours, Ivar’s features tighten momentarily, as if trying to not give away something in his expression. “I want it to be true.”
“Why?” You ask, just as quietly.
“So there’s a reason for all of it. Any of it.”
“There is always a reason, Ivar,” You tell him, leaning up on one elbow. He looks up at you, silent. “It just might not be the reason you want it to be.”
“What do you think the reason is, hm?” He prods, the backs of his fingers trailing up and down your arm.
You shake your head, “You won’t find answers in me.”
“But you believe in something.”
“I believe in Fate. I believe…I believe that just like the Völur weave their spells, just as Freyja weaves her secrets, the Norns weave our Fates, our lives.”
“Without reason?”
“Without any reason we can understand.” You correct him, a small smile curving your lips at his insistence.
You bring her up and the reminder that across a sea she exists, she waits, she claims; and it is enough for the warmth to leave you completely, to drain from your skin like the last drop of blood after a deep wound.
You grit your teeth and lower your head, trying to hide weakness that has been there from the first day when you sat before the King of Kattegat as he watched you methodically work on mending the stitching on his armor and smiled stupidly at each clumsy attempt he made at making you laugh.
You turn to the door and open it, but you are quickly stopped.
It is almost a stumble, iron-braced legs not quick enough for how he wants to move, but Ivar reaches the door before you, slamming a strong hand on it and keeping it closed.
You are well used to his temper and his demanding ways, but that doesn’t mean anger doesn’t flare within you now, or that you will simply accept him trying to keep you from moving freely.
“Whatever it is you intend to do, Ivar, I suggest you think twice about it.” You warn slowly, before turning around.
But when you lift your eyes to meet his you don’t find ire, you don’t find rage. You find desperation, you find…fear?
He grits his teeth, breathing sharply through his nose before asking, “Why are you trying to leave?”
He isn’t asking about you leaving the room.
Ironic, you suppose, that he is the one set to leave for Kattegat before the week is over and yet you seem to be the one intent on leaving him behind.
“Spring is over, you ought to return to your home.”
“And you will come with me.” He replies automatically, ever so petulant, arrogant.
“No, my home is here.”
“Your home is with me. You will be coming with me to Kattegat.” He insists, more agitated, yet more fragile in his certainty.
“Is forcing me to be by your side what you want?”
“I want you,” He snarls, leaning even closer. So similar to the words he would speak last night and so many nights before, yet the meaning is so different. Or maybe it is the same, and you just haven’t been listening. Ivar presses his lips together, taking an angry breath before offering, “I don’t want to lose you.”
I am not yours to lose, you want to argue, but it tastes like a lie before your lips even form the words.
There is nothing to lose, you almost try, but the mere thought of it breaks at what is left of your heart on your chest.
“You won’t.” You promise instead, dooming you both. Or maybe you are just dooming yourself.
Ivar leans closer, but you notice him swallow thickly, you notice the way he lowers his guard a bit, no longer so much so on the offense.
“Come with me.” He says, asks, beseechs.
With your eyes searching his, you cannot help but think of the waters you see in your dreams, you cannot help but remember the question you were once -many times, or maybe never- asked.
You cannot help but think of your answer, and realize maybe this is what you are granted, maybe this is the gift you are offered at your answer.
____
Settling in Kattegat proves equally difficult and easy.
It is easy for you to keep yourself occupied; the dawning of winter means people are in search of warmer clothing that now that the men are back from raiding they can afford to purchase, so your days are easily -comfortably, familiarly- busied with sewing and weaving.
It is difficult however, for you to forget what brought you here, what foolish and reckless desires -your own and Ivar’s- have left you here in Kattegat. And it is still easy, to let him consume your nights, to let him take the space he demands in your life; it is still easy, and that is the difficult part.
Ivar is many things, but he isn’t subtle. He wasn’t subtle about keeping you close in York, he wasn’t subtle about how everyone ought to treat you on the journey to his home, and he hasn’t been subtle about where he spends his nights.
And you cannot help but feel strange, intruding, invasive. Stupid, really, that you feel guilt when the man that is married to her doesn’t seem to, but you cannot help it.
You haven’t met her, and there is really no reason why you should, but you have seen her. By all the Gods, she is beautiful, and carries herself in a way you have scarcely seen.
You see her in scarce moments, pass her by on a feast or meet her tranquil gaze across a room. Sometimes you see her with Ivar, a barely-there moment that you feel an intruder for witnessing, her hands carefully folded over her stomach, her a back stiffly held straight, her expression coldly controlled. Sometimes you see her with thralls and young girls around her, and you pretend not to notice the way she sometimes shies away from their touches.
You see her, not long enough to be able to claim to truly know her, but long enough to no longer be able to pretend she doesn’t exist.
Almost a month goes by as you live in this strange in between, as you settle into life in Kattegat as if you were still in York, pretending winter is nothing but another spring.
Tonight, as you sit across from Hvitserk as he animatedly talks about what his travels to the Mediterranean were like, Ivar at your side with a hand -heavy, comforting, possessive- on your leg; you find your gaze finding the Queen where she sits alone, across the room.
She has this way about her, this jarring contradiction between meek and steadfast. She lowers her eyes, she keeps her gaze pointed at the ground quite often, but she has this manner of looking up and meeting people’s eyes that has nothing to do with passivity.
She smiles often, a sweet smile just on the edge of being too wide, but there’s this shine in her eyes when she smiles when people are looking that reminds you of the easily-cracked seashells you could put to your ear against and hear the mournful cry of the sea from.
“What are you so distracted by, hm?” Ivar asks, pulling you away from your thoughts with the sound of his voice alone. You turn to him, offer a smile and a shake of your head.
“Nothing,” You reply, but your focus still lingers on her. This isn’t your place, she should be sitting where you are, or maybe he should be there sitting by her side. You shouldn’t be here, and the realization of it dawns on you like a weight dropped on your chest. You feel sick, and you don’t think there’s any hiding it. “I…I think I’ll retire for the night.”
As you stand up, a hand running down his arm in what you hope is a gesture soothing enough to keep him from asking questions, you steal another glance her way.
She isn’t there anymore.
____
That night, as too-many nights before it, as you settle for bed Ivar appears at your door, comfortably taking room in your space with a familiarity, an ease, that feels wrong even if it fills you with warmth.
You sit before the small mirror in your room, your back turned to the bed where Ivar sits, your eyes focused on the task of brushing your hair.
“What is the matter with you, hm?” He asks. You keep your gaze on the mirror, working on detangling your hair where it is thrown over your shoulder.
Slowly, you start, “You aren’t…subtle.”
He doesn’t need you to be any clearer about what you mean, understanding your meaning immediately, and you are almost grateful for that.
“Why should I be?” He retorts, almost affronted. “You are my woman, I don’t need to-…”
“You have a wife.” You enunciate slowly, eyes wide as they meet his over the reflection in the mirror. Your hands, by force of habit alone, are working on parting your hair in three different portions to ready the braid you are used to wearing to sleep.
Ivar’s mouth curves downwards in a nonchalant gesture, a furrow between his brows.
“Do you think Freydis didn’t know how I spent my time in England? Do you think she doesn’t know about you?”
You still your hands for a moment, before you continue the path of the braid down.
“That only makes it worse.”
“We aren’t…we aren’t as we used to be. Freydis and me.”
You offer a look over your shoulder, and a clipped, “Surely you bringing another woman to her home has nothing to do with it.”
A fake smile at your response that only speaks of annoyance, and Ivar explains,
“It has been this way before I met you, and you know that.”
Hushed conversations by the lapping shores of the river port of Yorktown of how after the loss of the second child grief was made into weapons on both ends, and her words of how it was his seed what had cursed their children to die on the womb was still a thought that haunted him. The rumors that walked with you through the streets of the big city of how Ivar the Boneless had chosen another woman to keep by his side and yet still was only able to remain loyal to one, rumors that you understood much later when you were told Kattegat’s king and queen slept on separate beds.
You grit your teeth, tying the end of the braid tightly, and ask the question you haven’t dared for too long already.
“Why doesn’t she divorce you? Or you her?”
It is idle curiosity, you have never had the intention -the imagination even- to think Ivar would divorce his wife, but after all he has told you it is a question that has ran through your head often, and now that you have been a witness to how they interact, to at least part of it -his nights are spent with you, and that alone is enough to make you question what is the point of any of it- the questions grow louder.
“People would talk,” He replies as if the answer should be apparent, as if that is reason enough, explanation enough. To him, you realize, it is. “They talk enough already, even if I were to be the one to end it, they would-…the rumors would grow louder, people would talk about how she left me.”
“They would be wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter,” He sentences, “I won’t fail, I won’t lose.”
“Fail?”
“The cripple can’t satisfy his wife, can’t father a child, can’t…can’t be a normal man, so she leaves him.”
Your heart feels strange in your chest, as if it is being squeezed tight.
“Ivar…”
He grits his teeth, looks up at you past stubbornly furrowed brows, “You know that is what they would say, I can’t…I can’t let them say that.”
“It wouldn’t be true.”
His eyes fall from yours, “It doesn’t matter.”
He refuses to talk much more about any of it, and if you are honest you are almost grateful for his stubbornness, because you don’t want to discuss anything else any further.
It is with painful ease that you two settle in bed together for sleep, your head on his chest and his fingers absently tracing the dips and curves of the braid you wear.
Sometime in the middle of the night you wake up to a darkened room and a low call of your name in a voice you know well by now, even if you hate to hear it when you are peacefully sleeping and he insists on disturbing that.
Ivar’s fingers are running idly over the side of your face, tracing the contour of your cheek. You reluctantly open your eyes.
“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” You mumble, irrationally annoyed. Your brow furrows, and eyes narrowed, you lift your head, “Better yet, why are you punishing me for your inability to sleep?”
His fingers trail down from your face to the base of the braid on the side of your neck, and ignoring your question he prompts, “Do you regret it?”
Biting back an argument about how this is very much not the time to continue this conversation, you ask, “Regret what, Ivar?”
“Coming here. With me.”
Your annoyance fades away like smoke between your fingers, and you sigh.
“No.”
More easily than you would like to admit Ivar maneuvers you until you are on your back underneath him, looking down at you with a small smile.
“Good.” He sentences. You lift your eyebrows.
“Good?”
He hums an affirmation, leaning closer and stealing a kiss from your lips.
“You are mine,” He reminds you, eyes piercing on yours. Before you get too lost on the way the flames flicker in the blue of his eyes, Ivar leans once again to kiss you, slowly but with an edge you can’t help but notice. When you part, he licks his lips, before admitting, “And I am yours.”
“And hers.”
A smile, a slow blink of his eyes, and he ignores your words.
“I didn’t bring you here to keep you a concubine, and when spring comes I will leave but you will still be here.”
You frown, “What are you saying?”
“I intend to make you my wife.” He states, jarringly certain, unmovable. Your eyes widen, and in the back of your mind you think your breath leaves you in a gasp.
“N-No, you can’t-…”
His eyes search yours, trying to find the answer to a question he hasn’t yet asked. It is still enough to silence your words before they even leave your lips.
Voice quiet, he asks, orders, pleas, “Marry me.”
____ ____ ____
“Whether you love what you love, or live in divided ceasless revolt against it, what you love is your fate.” (F.B)
A/N: I certainly didn’t plan for the first chapter to open with smuttish themes, but I need the practice writing it and I suppose it works well for establishing the relationship between these two. Idk. Hope this was alright, thank you for reading!
Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​ @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​ @fae-sedai​  @zuxiezendler​ @crazybunnyladysworld​ @stupiddarkkside​ @northumbria​  @aprilivar​ @punkrocknpearls​ @heavenly1927​ @ladynightshade30​
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macandriley · 3 years
Text
5x06 - A Very MacRiley Analysis
Obligatory post to answer the age-old question: What do you see in MacRiley?
I’d like to start this off by saying, like a lot of you, I had very minimal hopes for this episode. I really didn’t expect anything to happen on the MacRiley front—especially not something that would significantly impact that storyline. 
But...I do enjoy being wrong.
Full transparency: this is not an episode review. If it were, I’d have to talk about the glaring plot inconsistencies and strange timeline. And I feel like I’ve already talked myself hoarse over that. 
So, without further adieu, let’s get into the long-winded analysis. 
The Cold Open
Absolutely irrelevant to the overall story and to this analysis. I just really like the way Mac says, “Riley, take the wheel,” and I thought it deserved an honorable mention.
“2020 Is Gonna Be Awesome”
Here, we cut to quarantine shenanigans. It’s cute. Fun. To see Riley and Bozer interacting like siblings again after so long just felt right.
Now, this is the pandemic, so of course conversations of toilet paper shortages arise. So Mac, in true MacGyver fashion, throws out some fun alternatives like newspaper and pine needles. And Riley shoots them all down, as she should. 
Because in the immortal words of Desi in 5x04, “Ew.”
This is when Bozer mentions that they could use the cardboard from Riley’s moving boxes. A seemingly innocent suggestion on the surface. If you don’t pay much attention to it, it goes right by without any fuss. 
However, at this point in canon, here’s what we know:
Bozer knows about Riley’s feelings for Mac
Riley has verbally told him that the reason she’s moving out is because of MacDesi. (Though her exact reasoning might’ve been intentionally misleading on her part)
So what does this mean? Well, to put it simply, Bozer is encouraging her to embrace living with Mac. To unpack her bags and stick around a while. A suggestion that Riley seems to ignore, as she says she’s dead set on getting out of there the second the pandemic allows.
Of course, the second she mentions moving, Mac picks back up with his beautiful Fauci song. Could it be that Himbo Barbie doesn’t like talking about Riley leaving? That’s open for interpretation.
Bonus points: Mac (incorrectly) blames Riley for not doing the dishes and it’s just adorably domestic. 
Getting Fed
Again, this scene is insignificant. The OG trio sit down to dinner, with Desi and Matty on video chat. It’s cute. 
But there is definitely something to be said for the way Riley looked at Mac when he mentioned having a private chat with Desi. My heart really went out to her there, because it must seem to her like she’s constantly being overlooked. 
After dinner, Riley and Bozer share a brief conversation. She expresses a disinterest in discussing her feelings, and reaffirms her choice to move out.
But Bozer reminds her that she’s only moving out so she “doesn’t have to watch Mac and Desi together,” and that “At this moment, it doesn’t seem like they are.”
This scene is important for two reasons: 
Bozer is clearly more supportive of MacRiley, which makes him honorary ship captain (as far as I’m concerned). 
it reaffirms the fact that her feelings are still very real, no matter how hard the lady doth protest.
Kitchen Floor Confessional
You all know this one from promo. After a tense conversation with Bozer, Mac heads inside to do the dishes. Riley, being the helpful person she is, offers to lend a hand. 
One thing leads to another, and the two wind up sitting on the floor by the sink, side by side. Just talking. The conversation comes to an end when Riley, who looks as though she wants to say something else, decides against it. (This “something else”, of course, would have been her confession). 
Cue the somewhat longing, emotionally charged staring from both parties. 
At this point, Mac says he’s going to go for a jog and abruptly leaves Riley alone in the kitchen. It’s clear by the look on her face that she feels, in some way, rejected. And the viewer is, at least for now, left to ponder why Mac seemed to cut the moment off so strangely. 
Though one could hypothesize that, just like Riley’s being packed and ready to go, Mac’s running has a little more to do with the emotional distancing than physical. 
The Parking Lot
Here we see Mac run off to speak to Desi. A scene I will not discuss at length, because the idea of playing footsie makes me cringe in the deepest recesses of my soul.
A little ways away, Bozer asks Riley if she told Mac about her feelings. She tells him she didn’t and that she’s glad, because she doesn’t want to be the thing that comes between them and their “happiness” (happiness is in quotes here because it seems like “anger” and “annoyance” are more common for them).
The dialogue in and of itself is not what I want to focus on here though. It’s the way the scene is framed.
Outside of the close-up shots for MacDesi’s conversation, much of the camera angles are from Riley’s perspective. Distant. Detached. The standpoint of an outsider looking in—of a girl watching the man she cares about being happy with someone else. 
The camerawork here makes this more of a Riley-centric moment than a MacDesi one.
Which is important because, from a narrative standpoint, there is no reason to frame it that way unless her emotions are going to be focal later on. This entire exchange implies that, in some way, Riley’s feelings are, were, and will be important to the plot. 
Yay for directorial story telling. 
A Moment
What to say about this scene? 
Mac has a heart to heart with Bozer and promises to be more present in his life. Bozer thanks him and begs him to finally clean the damn kitchen.
And agreeing, Mac turns away to do just that. Only, he stops himself short and tells Bozer he has one more thing he’d like to discuss.
The quote went as follows: “Kay, so...in the kitchen here a couple nights ago with Riley, there was a, uh...I don’t know, a moment.”
As I’m sure every MacRiley knows, him acknowledging that scene as a legitimate moment between them was incredibly unexpected. They’ve arguably had “moments” before, but only Riley ever seemed to notice them. Mac never mentioned having feelings, or even seemed like he might be aware of them.
This scene is the first time we’ve ever had direct confirmation that he feels—at least, in some capacity—the same way. 
To make it even better, this scene happens directly after MacDesi’s footsie match in the parking lot. Which means that, even when he’s got positive momentum with Desi, he’s still got Riley on his mind. 
Side note: I personally think this explains his behavior in 5x03. He doesn’t see Riley reciprocating, and he’s probably incredibly worried about screwing up all their history—an issue he doesn’t have with Desi, since they didn’t have much of a friendship first. 
So he throws himself back into that in an attempt to smother his feelings. Will it work? Only time will tell.
Ending
After cleaning up the kitchen, Mac picks up the piece of glass he’d left on the floor and, surprise surprise, finally gets an idea for his ventilator. Some fans say this is Riley’s influence, which I can honestly see. 
Especially given the quote Mac says at the end:
“When the world feels like it’s so turned upside down that it’s impossible to fix, it helps to look at things from a different angle. Because no matter how broken something appears—whether its your grumpy neighbor, your terrified best friend, your estranged girlfriend, or a shard of glass—that broken thing could inspire something new...Maybe even something better than before.”
I believe this is a direct foreshadow to MacRiley. Somehow, his fractured relationship with Desi will make him see what he COULD have with Riley. This “new angle” might even help him see that he’s better off as friends with Desi (something new), and that he might be happier in a relationship with Riley (something better).
And if you still don’t buy that, well...the scene transition seems pretty damning. 
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There was absolutely no reason the camera couldn’t have faded to Bozer. Or to a shot of all three of them. This feels incredibly intentional, no?
In Conclusion
“Codex Adrenaline” and “Quarantine Cabin Fever” are cop-outs. Riley still likes Mac. Mac now likes Riley. And we are 100% going to see more development on that front. So is this a win?
I think so.
But I wanna hear from y’all. What did you like about this episode? What did you hate? Do you feel like they’re leading up to something bigger for MacRiley?
I’d love to hear y’alls thoughts. 
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thatiranianphantom · 4 years
Text
Riverdale S5, the collaborative “It’s Going To Be Fine” post.
Okay. So I’ve seen a lot of worries in the fandom about Season 5. I’ve had lots of conversations with lots of really insightful people, and I’ve always been a pretty good predictor. So, by my (and others) educated guess, here is what’s going to happen in S5. 
(For this, we are operating under the assumption that this is a full, 22 episode season. 
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5x01 - The prom episode. Likely, Veronica finds out about the kiss in this episode. We also know Archie sings his...song again in this episode, so there is very likely some Barchie content, whether that be happy content or sad. 
5x02 and 5x03 - These episode are the original penultimate episode and finale, and they will likely reflect that in their content. I do not see them continuing the Mr. Honey plot past this point, and if they haven’t forgotten about the Charles/Chic plot, it will come to a conclusion here. This will also be where we will see Barchie “exploring their feelings”. Additionally, this will be the episode where Jughead and Veronica will DEFINITELY find out about the Barchie kiss. We can expect them both to break up, and all 4 to go their separate ways. I have stated this before and I will state it again: I will gobsmacked if they continue Barchie past this point. The very POINT of all this was to get them all going their separate ways, and they needed something big to make sure not only the relationships imploded, but the friendships did too. We end on them all going their separate ways. It’s possible that this will end with us getting a glimpse of where they are in 7 years at the end. I could definitely see that happening. If so, we will catch a glimpse of Jessica, Jughead’s new girlfriend, as a hook to lure people into watching the next few episodes. 
5x04 - This episode will likely be all exposition. We see where they are in 7 years. Casting spoilers tell us Veronica is married, somewhat unhappily, with a busy career. Betty is single and works for the FBI. Archie is returning from the army. Jughead has a live-in girlfriend and is writing a book. I’d think that they’d all be given a section of time for them to exposition the last seven years. Then we’d end on them getting called back to Riverdale for the Big Mystery of the season. Jughead and Veronica will leave their significant others behind. I think in the case of Jughead, he is assuming it’s over, without actually saying the words (and we are to remember that, because it will come up again.) 
5x05~5x07 - This is the episode that brings them back together. My guess would be that this introduces us to the season’s big mystery and tells us how they interact now. It’s Riverdale, and as @go-ldy​ says, Riverdale sucks at slow burn. But in these episodes, we will likely have the awkwardness. They’ll be latently angry, unsure of where they fit in each other’s lives anymore, and very standoffish. That’ll start to thaw around episode 7. 
5x08~5x11 - Here we’ll start to see the couples come back together. For Bughead, you know the mystery will bond them, and because it will inevitably involve Veronica’s father since Riverdale has 0 other stories for Veronica, Varchie will come back together over that. They’ll start to talk, laugh and bond again. It’ll look like they’re starting to come back together, you may even see some kissing (this would fit with covid stuff too, since until here, they’ll be fairly standoffish. When they finally start to work it out, boom! Time for more contrived drama. I said this to @heartunsettledsoul​ and I’m almost sure it’ll happen. When our core four start to work their way back, it’s time to throw the plot devices back in. I highly predict Jug’s girlfriend and Veronica’s husband will come back here. 
Now don’t go thinking they’ll be made into sympathetic, humanized characters. Please. Of course not. It’s Riverdale. They’re meant to be the shrews. They’re there to screw up the relationships again, and for that reason only. And then we got to....
5x12~5x15 -The pining episodes! The plot device significant others do their plot device thing. The mystery (which is apparently moth men. Please kill me.) will begin to ramp up and throw down what emotional stakes they’ll be ending the season on. The plot devices will likely not stick around much past this because writing them is too much effort for the terminally lazy writing staff, but the emotional damage is done. 
5x15~5x22 - Recovery to finale. Historically, Riverdale doesn’t end on cliffhangers. I’ve actually always appreciated that. Season end cliffhangers are cliched and played out, imo. But this is when the relationships will be repaired. They’ll likely be back together before the end. Again, too much time and effort to keep them apart. Much like Varchie in S3, they COULD only resolve this in the finale, but I would be shocked if they could wait that long. Likely it’ll be before then. 
I think if we look back, yes, Riverdale is bonkers, but that really is mostly the overarching mystery plotlines. It’s hard to predict those because the writers can make shit up as they go along. But because they are fundamentally lazy and bad at their jobs, it’s fairly easy to predict the relationships. 
I would really like to hear what @earthlaughsinflowersblog​ thinks, I love her very insightful thoughts from someone with knowledge of the industry, and now that this is done I can finally go back to reminding @latenightcoffeetalks​ how wrong she is about winter. 
Apologies for the length. Be well, my lovelies!
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verobatto · 5 years
Text
Destiel Chronicles
(Vol. XII)
It was a love story from the very beginning.
First date Illusion for a broken man
(5x03//5x10//5x11//5x13//5x14)
Hello Friends! I'm here again with another volume from my Destiel Chronicles.
In this meta I'm gonna trace a parallel between 5x03 "Free to be you and me" and 5x13 "My bloody Valentine."
I want to say thank you to my friend @agusvedder who made the gifs for this meta! You are amazing, girl!
Now, let's start this...
First hunting date
When Dean and Cas went on their first hunt together, it was like a first date, and as we saw in 5x03 "Free to be you and me", Dean really enjoyed being Castiel's partner and hunt with CAS.
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Trying to teach him human's stuffs, giving him advices, and even going out to a brothel with him was so fun, that he admitted he was happy with him, as he wasn't in a long time.
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Yes... Seeing Castiel having a bad time was funny too, he was discovering being around the angel was exquisitely entertained. He had tried made him mad, and locking him with pop culture, and now watching him so nervous was delicious.
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That had been a great first date, he even tried to seduce him by flirting... But Cas was such a cute clueless angel...
But I'm a broken man
Coming back to 5x10 "Abandon all hope", Jo gets hurt bc she saved Dean from the hellhounds. And she dies later with her mother Hellen.
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Dean let the guilt to consume him again, and we had, immediately after that episode, 5x11 "Sam interrupted", in which we saw Dr. Cartwright, as a construction/illusion, from Dean's mind to question himself about the mission, about his duties. The program he had in his head as THE BIG PROTECTOR and the FIRST BORN. The mission to protect everyone to any cost, even his life. He was questioning that because he felt Jo and Hellen had died for him. And that was too painful.
The first time Dr. Cartwright appeared, she asked Dean about his father, but the second time... He asked about the Mission Heritage.
DR. CARTWRIGHT: Why you?
DEAN: Why me, what?
DR. CARTWRIGHT: Why do you have to hunt monsters? Why not let someone else do it?
DEAN: (shrugs, smiles) Can't find anybody else that dumb. (thinks for a moment) It's my job. Somebody's gotta save people's asses, yours included.
Here is Dean asking himself why he has to do this. Why he has to hunt and keep saving people. And he answers himself. IT'S MY JOB. IT'S MY DUTY. BECAUSE I'M AN OBEDIENT SON. I'M A GOOD SON.
Then this...
DR. CARTWRIGHT: So, is there a quota? How many people do you have to save?
DEAN: All of them.
DR. CARTWRIGHT: All of them? You think you have to save everyone?
DEAN: Yep. Whole wide world of sports.
Dean has to save and protect anyone. So... Why he couldn't protect Jo and Hellen? That's the huge guilt that is now on his shoulders... But this didn't end there... When the Doctor asked how he would protect and save everyone, he said...
DEAN: It's the end of the world, okay? I mean, it's a damn Biblical apocalypse, and if I don't stop it and save everyone, then no one will, and we all die.
DR. CARTWRIGHT: That's horrible.
DEAN: Yeah, tell me about it.
DR. CARTWRIGHT: I mean, apocalypse or no apocalypse...monsters or no monsters, that's a crushing weight to have on your shoulders. To feel like six billion lives depend on you...God...how do you get up in the morning?
DEAN stares contemplatively for a moment.
DEAN: That's a good question.
How can Dean avoid all of this and wake up in the morning? He can't... He is carrying with it the whole journey... As we will see in the following scene.
Free will is an illusion
In episode 5x13 "The song remains the same", Dean talks with Michael!John, and that was one of the huge points that settled the Dean's despair that will lead him to say Yes to Michael and I will talking about that in the next volume, I just wanted to point here this phrase from the Archangel...
MICHAEL: You're my true vessel but not my only one.
DEAN: What is that supposed to mean?
MICHAEL: It's a bloodline.
DEAN: A bloodline?
MICHAEL: Stretching back to Cain and Abel. It's in your blood, your father's blood, your family's blood.
Michael is announcing everything is part of a plan, everything was constructed with a reason and with a destiny.
MICHAEL: You know, my brother, I practically raised him. I took care of him in a way most people could never understand, and I still love him. But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to.
DEAN: Oh, because God says so?
MICHAEL: Yes. From the beginning, he knew this was how it was going to end.
DEAN: And you're just gonna do whatever God says.
MICHAEL: Yes, because I am a good son.
DEAN: Okay, well, trust me, pal. Take it from someone who knows—that is a dead-end street.
Michael is the good son, the obedient, as Dean is. This similitude is traced intentionally, and is one more proof that reveals everything was written to be like this. Even Mary and John were made for each other by design of God.
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This lasts words from Michael will stay in Dean and will be part of the following events I will analyze in the next volume, will show us why he was about to quit to his free will.
Tryin to remember that first date when I was happy with you...
So, after these two things that happened to Dean, after questioning his duties, Famine arrives to the town on 5x14 "My bloody Valentine". And is Saint Valentine's day... But Dean was so broken and sad, that he didn't want to celebrate as always...
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They start to investigate in the Morgue, and when they found enochian in one of the victims, they decided to call Castiel... And this classic Destiel scene happened...
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Again he has this dorky angel in front of him, and is incredible he is doing that. But Dean and Cas are looking at each other's eyes again, with that intensity the hunter is use to by now... But is not less captivated.
And then, when CAS is explaining the boys about Cupid, Dean made a joke again...
DEAN: You mean the little flying fat kid in diapers?
CASTIEL: They're not incontinent.
SAM: Okay, anyway. So, what you're saying--
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CASTIEL: What I'm saying is a Cupid has gone rogue and we have to stop him--before he kills again.
Castiel got a little anxious here, and Dean enjoys this. He enjoys this as he enjoyed putting him nervous that time in the brothel. He enjoys seeing Castiel mad too.
With all the things that happened to Dean, sad things, seeing Cas and... As we could see later on this episode, hunting alone with him, it reminds him that first date/hunt they had, when he was happy. When he enjoyed Castiel's company. So yes. Dean wasn't interested in food, in sex, in celebrating Valentine's day, he didn't feel Famine influence on him... The only thing/person that caught his attention was this dorky angel again. Because with him he had a good time. And now, admiring him and looking at him that way, checking him, he was trying to enjoy Castiel's company. (Even if people could say this was a cockles scene... The writers and the producers let the thing in the episode for one narrative reason.)
That's one deep, dark nothing Dean got there.
When Castiel realized Dean was the only one not having symptoms with Famine on town, he get curious.
CASTIEL: (...) What I don't understand is...where is your hunger, Dean?
DEAN: Huh?
CASTIEL: Well, slowly but surely, everyone in this town is falling prey to Famine, but so far, you seem unaffected.
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But the truth was, the big hole Dean's had inside and Famine saw...
As I analyzed in my meta "Let's make a tour inside Dean's soul", that hole, that nothing, will be filled with love, family love and romantic love. But now, Dean is feeling empty, dead.
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To conclude:
Jo and Hellen's deaths incremented the guilt inside Dean, he questioned his whole mission as the Big Protector.
The first date/hunt Dean and Cas had in 5x03, is a very nice memory for Dean, because he was happy and having a good time with CAS there.
In 5x14 "My bloody Valentine", the only thing/person Dean showed interest was Castiel, going to a hunt with him again and seeing him acting like the weird, dorky, little guy he is, should brought Dean good memories from their first hunt together.
The emptyness Dean have inside, pointed by Famine, is one another huge point for the following events, and later will be filled with Love.
I hope you like this!! C-u in the next volume!
Tagging @metafest @gneisscastiel @mrsaquaman187 @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @castiellover20 @whyjm @koshisekisen @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @cheerstofandomfamily @drsilverfish @savannadarkbaby @angelneedshunter @trickster-archangel @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfatmydoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @mishka-the-angel-of-saturday @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @hippyatheart80 @xsghn @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh
If you want to be tagged in the Destiel Chronicles, please let me know.
Links to previous volumes: VIII / IX / X / XI
Buenos Aires May 23rd 2019 1:21 AM
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snowbellewells · 6 years
Text
“Got My Angel Now”
So, I started writing this after 5x03 (“Siege Perilous”), and though I know that there are elements of it which were disproved or went another way in canon, I still don’t think it is so far off as to be unenjoyable, and I’m pretty fond of it.   I’d love to hear what you think once you’ve read.  The title comes from a line in “Halo” by Beyonce, and the lyrics within are from Christina Perri’s “I Believe”.  I don’t own either of those wonderful songs, nor either member of our lovely Pirate and Princess duo.  I only want to see them live happily ever after… (and in a way we did!! ;) 
I’m still tagging this for the #Ouat Fandom Crescendo for one more week.  I had a couple more I wanted to re-post!
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 “Got My Angel Now” 
By: @snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on ff.net) 
             They should never have trusted Arthur so blindly. Have they learned nothing yet after meeting so many heroes and monsters of myth and legend and discovering so many to be the opposite of how they are painted in the tales of old?  Oh, aye, the royal had been stealthy – welcoming them to Camelot, throwing a grand ball in their honor, knighting David as a brother-in-arms and seating him in the very Siege Perilous once held by Lancelot himself – but it had made them let down their guards…and now Emma was paying for it.
            Standing surrounded in the tower room Regina and Belle use as they research and experiment trying to find a way to communicate with and free Merlin, Arthur’s treachery suddenly comes into sharp focus for all of them.  An entire phalanx of Camelot knights – Dave’s supposed comrades – surround Killian, Henry, David, Robin, and Belle (unfortunately Regina is not present to wipe them all out with a wrathful fireball) with swords at their chests or throats, circled closely enough that breaking free or moving to help the last member of their party is impossible.
            Arthur himself stands facing Emma, his blade drawn and pointed just above her heart, poised to pierce her chest and make that precious, priceless organ spill its lifeblood and go still.  Killian feels himself practically vibrating with rage at the betrayal and fear for her, not to mention the bitter anger he can feel radiating off of the prince beside him, and he reaches out a hand to clutch Henry’s forearm, feeling the boy nearly jerk forward to his mother.  He doesn’t think these men would hurt one so young, but he is no longer certain.
           “Now Dark One,” Arthur spits, his voice harsh with controlled venom, “you and I are going to the tree.  Your magic and the mushroom your noble father so kindly procured for me,” here he slants a gaze at Charming, “will show me what to do to free Merlin and to trap you instead where you rightly belong.”
           Killian knows Emma now possesses enough magic in her little finger alone to blow all these men away, but she holds back, as afraid as any of them that magic use will only continue to give the darkness more footholds in her psyche.  She slants her eyes from boldly staring Arthur down to seek his.  He wants to tell her to fight, to disappear, escape, and he wishes to know what he can do to comfort her, but the words and the knowledge both escape him.  Instead, his only ease is found in knowing that Emma’s dagger is nowhere here – not where Arthur can lay his hands on it and control his love.  Though he does not know where Snow and Lancelot have taken it for safekeeping, it is at least beyond this broken monarch’s reach.
          There is nothing to do but watch as Arthur has two more knights bind Emma’s hands and force her none-too-gently from the room behind him, the rest of the guard linger menacingly, to be sure none of them can follow or try to help her until they are well away.
          It matters not; he will catch up, no matter where they take her.  Emma must only hold on, keep her faith…
 “I believe in the lost possibilities you can’t see                                                                and I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be;
I know that your heart is still beating, beating, Darling,
I believe that you fell just so you could land next to me, 
So hold on, hold on…
         Though naught but a quarter of an hour passes before the rest of Arthur’s men withdraw from them, it is well into the evening before Killian finds Emma in a moonlit clearing of the dense forest which encircles the kingdom.  Their group had split up in the hopes of someone reaching Swan that much faster, once word spread of Arthur’s failing to trap the Dark One and how she had used her powers to vanish from his grasp in the courtyard.  Killian still does not know what had been done to her before that, but he can only be glad she has outsmarted their treacherous adversary and saved herself.  He practically deflates with relief at the sight of her before him, appearing hale and in one piece.  He cannot be anything but glad that it is he who will have a moment to himself with his love. It does not matter that it has not even been a whole day, his relief upon seeing Emma again is almost too great to bear.  The vision of her before him across the clearing is like the first breath of fresh spring air to his weary soul after too long locked away in suffocating winter. The last few hours he has felt as if he is struggling for breath, consciously forcing his heart not to skip beats in agony and worry for her and what she might be suffering.  His joy is great enough to override caution, and he doesn’t take in the raw, unhinged look in her wild eyes, nor the way she fairly vibrates with some unknown strain or injury.  
          The air around Emma pulses with electric energy, and she throws up a hand to ward him off – pulling Killian up short when he feels the force pressing him back.  Drawing in a steadying breath and hesitating to truly study her expression of confusion and anxiety, he realizes with a sharp pang in his chest that he is not sure whether she is merely trying to protect him while out of control or if she truly doesn’t know him in this moment.
          Those lovely, mesmerizing green eyes which never fail to capture him in their depths, flit nervously from his face, to his hand and hook, to her own trembling fingers outstretched between them, to the trees that surround them, and back again nervously – clearly unsettled and pained. Their emerald depths have never appeared so dark before, as if the forces fighting within to color her very mind and spirit are attempting to spread into even the smallest details of her being.  His Swan literally shakes even as she attempts to hold herself steady, staring at him over the ground between them.  “What are you doing here?!?” she demands, looking shaken and angry, but at the same time as if she wants nothing more than to close the space between them, fall into his supporting arms, and hold on for dear life.  “I brought myself here for a reason, Killian!  I barely got away from them, and I had to use my powers to do it. I can’t risk something like that happening again.  I’m too dangerous to be near anyone until I find Merlin – and not when Arthur is waiting.  Not until I get rid of this, this…thing inside me.  I feel it swirling and clawing… even when it isn’t speaking to me in Rumplestiltskin’s voice, it’s trying to break free.  So…y-you can’t be here!  I w-won’t hurt you…” Her lower lip trembles, but she looks so firm in her decision and determined to suffer alone in her misery that his heart constricts in pain for her, breaking a bit more at the sight of her anguish.
            He cannot bear to see her suffering, to hear the agony in her voice; the yearning loneliness made plain beneath her warning to him makes him continue to inch closer to her, regardless of the threat Emma thinks she poses.  He had known the wretched feeling of hopeless despair she is feeling all too well himself – for years – until she came along and brought more to his life than revenge, brought back the man of honor he once was.  He takes another hesitant step forward, cautiously reaching out for her with a gentle hand and equally coaxing voice.  “Easy now, Love,” he practically croons.  “We can be careful…but you should not – and will not – have to do this alone.”
         “Please stop!” she cries out, shooting another regretful look of longing at him.
         Killian shakes his head, unwilling to let her go on this way, sure that he can help her, soothe her, and ease her pain if he can only reach her.  He watches as Emma continues to tremble and shake, but she remains still, allowing him to approach, even if she does so fearfully.  Finally, the very tips of his fingers graze her cloak, then his whole hand rests on her upper arms, gripping gently as if unsure that she won’t still flee from him.
          Just as she did in that circle of stones when their whole party first arrived in Camelot, Emma expels a terribly ragged breath and deflates, falling into his arms and clutching his shoulders as desperately as he clings to her.  Killian breathes again, having barely realized he was holding it, and smooths a hand through her hair.  He is not at all deterred by Emma’s moment of weakness, her nearly unhinged power, nor her fear.  He is only glad she has finally reached for him in time of need.  He will not give her up; he will find a way to help her, show her he will never fear her – whatever betide – and he will not fail to fight for her against any threat or foe.  Watching her battle the Darkness within allows him to see, not her faltering, but even more of her strength.  His admiration for her has only grown.  No one else could understand the allure of the dark and the valor needed to claw away from it as he can.
‘Cause I have been where you are before                                                                                                                                                                                                     and I have felt the pain of losing who you are,
I have died so many times, but I am still alive
So hold on, hold on….
            Tenderly, reverently, Killian’s hand travels on – down from the silken waves of her golden hair to trace Emma’s shoulders, then her back, pressing just enough to draw her closer, only to release her quickly when she cries out in pain at even the slight weight of his hands on her back. She tries to swallow her reaction in the next instant – hide it away – but she cannot conceal the wince that escapes as she curls in on herself protectively, nor can he fail to see the stiff way she holds her shoulders now that he is looking for it.
            His calloused fingers come to cup her strong chin, tilting Emma’s face up to meet his gaze, so she cannot avoid his eyes. “Where are you hurt, Swan?” he murmurs lowly, voice rough with concern and desire to help.  His words might be soft, but they are taut with worry and anger that these brigands would dare to lay a rough hand on his princess.  “What did they do to you?”
            Emma shakes her head, pulling away from his cautious grip and biting down on her lower lip in that way she has when trying to avoid baring herself to him, especially if the knowledge he seeks might be painful.  “It’s nothing, Killian.  Don’t worry over it.  I…I could have healed it already…if I weren’t worried about using my magic more than I have already.”
            Impatiently, he shakes his own head once, frustrated at her stubbornness and unconcern for her own well-being.  “It is not nothing, Emma.  Of that I am quite sure.”  His words are clipped with the force of his emotion, accent more pronounced, and Emma feels a shiver skitter down her spine that is as much from attraction as foreboding over what he will do when he sees her injuries. Carefully, but firmly, Killian places both hand and hook on her shoulders and turns her around to face away from him.
            For a moment, Emma clutches her cloak about her, trying to keep this revelation from his eyes in one last desperate effort, but when pain lances through her shoulders and she cannot bite back the whimper that escapes her, she knows it is a losing battle.  Slumping forward, she releases a sigh and ceases to fight against his gentle determination.  
            “There now, Lass,” her pirate coaxes in that warm burr of his.  His hand and hook barely skim over her form as he unclasps and pulls the cloak away. “Let us see, hmm?  Everything will be…”  However, his voice chokes and trails off before he can finish his gentle reassurance.  A strangled noise in his throat and the sudden heavy tension in the air around them tells her without doubt that once the cloak was off her shoulders the wide neckline and low back of her dress leave the stinging marks on her flesh exposed plainly to his eyes.
            Neither of them move for several long, silent moments, and Emma presses her trembling lips together tightly, trying desperately not to let the tears that are welling in her eyes fall.  She hisses when the cool metal of his hook gingerly traces the brand burned into her right shoulder, serving to mark her as a witch, and the scattered whip weals she bore rather than admit anything about where her dagger was hidden and endanger Merlin and all of them.  The lash marks pulse hotly along with the beat of her heart and the blood rushing through her veins.  Somehow, though, the tender care in his touch soothes her a bit, and she relaxes, almost sinking to her knees in relief and exhaustion as he continues. Her eyes slip closed, and she nearly feels safe again until he whispers in a broken voice.  “Oh, Love, how could they do this to you?  …I am so very sorry, Emma.”
            Her tears do fall silently then, and she turns back to him, wordlessly trailing her fingers across his face, up over his cheekbones, wiping his matching tears away.  Shushing Killian even as his shoulders shake with silent emotion, Emma leans against his chest and tries for the first time in what feels like ages to let down her guard and catch her breath at the safety she finds in his arms.
            Eventually, Killian pulls back slightly, brushing a loose tendril of her mussed hair off her forehead and resting his hand along the side of her face softly.  He shifts to take her hand in his and then leads her to the banks of the small river running placidly behind them.  Urging Emma wordlessly to sit on a large rock at the water’s edge, he pulls a clean black scarf from inside his long coat, bends to wet it in the cool water, then comes back to crouch behind her.  Clearing his throat in a nervous way that warms her heart, Killian asks gently. “Not to be indelicate, Swan, but can you shrug out of your frock for a moment?  Hold it up in the front if you wish, but I need to see your whole back if I am to clean your wounds properly.”
            Emma dips her head, blushing fiercely, and does as he asks, sucking in a sharp, pained breath once more as she eases the material from her shoulders and the movement stretches the torn skin of her back. Finally, she wraps her arms tightly around her torso, holding the front of the dress up and bracing herself. Hissing as the damp cloth first makes contact with the bloody stripes sliced into her pale hide, she tries not to flinch or wince and make Killian’s task more difficult; however, she can feel Killian’s hesitance and guilt at hurting her more, even in order to help, regardless of how she tries to hold her reactions in.
            Slowly, the water begins to cool the enflamed agony and she eases a fraction, feeling a bit like his ministrations are healing her as well as any magic could.  The feel of his fingers ghosting over her back and down her arm as he finishes and tells her she can pull her gown back into place remind her vividly of another time so long ago, when he used another of his scarves to bind a wound to her hand, seemingly reading her mind as he did so and seeing the attraction she had felt for him even then simmering under her skin.  His care that day atop the beanstalk had made her ache to trust him so desperately, and looking back now, it nearly floors her to realize just how completely she does trust him now – so much so that she would place her very life in his hands without question.
            Emma feels the warm exhalation of her pirate’s breath on her neck mere seconds before he lightly rests his forehead there, seemingly needing merely to hold her as he draws in a shaky breath.  They are silent for some time; the running water, bird calls, and scuffling of wild creatures in the brush are the only sounds around them.  Finally, he eases away and speaks once more, circling to face her as he does so. “Emma, I know you do not want to put yourself at more risk – nor do you want to be forced to use your magic again to defend yourself, or any of us – but you must return with me.  We can find some place for you to stay where Arthur and his sorry excuses for gallant knights will never know of your return. You must have some salve or medicine and better treatment than I can offer for those cuts, and especially the burn. I fear it could become infected. Regina will be near enough to guard you with her magic this time, and we will not be taken unawares again.  I certainly will not be making the mistake of trusting anyone else in Camelot again.”
            She wants to argue with him, to be strong enough to stay out here alone and in hiding, but she cannot make herself form the words.  In fact, she knows with painful certainty that she cannot bear to have Killian out of her sight right now.  Weakened and vulnerable, she needed his comfort and his strength, needs someone with some faith and hope that all which has gone wrong can still work out.  Not only will she worry for his safety and the rash action he might take to right the vicious wrongs done to her, but she yearns for his care just now, his steadfast love the strongest thing keeping the darkness at bay, even as her situation grows more dire.
I believe that tomorrow is stronger than yesterday,                                                                                                                                                                                             and I believe that your head is the only thing in your way.
I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty.
I believe that today it’s okay to be not okay…
Hold on, hold on…
This is not the end of me, this is the beginning
Hold on…
            Later that night, as moonlight filters into the isolated old hunting lodge that Killian and Henry have somehow located in a far-flung corner of the castle’s grounds, deserted and dusty from long disuse, Emma wakes from a light doze, still uneasy enough not to sleep deeply, despite her wear and strain. Sitting up stiffly, her eyes search the room, seeking her guardian knight, even as his name escapes her lips worriedly.  “Killian?” she asks, a soft, plaintive note in the single whispered word.
            He stands quickly from where his lithe form had been curled up on a settee near the window keeping watch, himself bathed in dark shadows and moon glow as he steals across the room to sit on the edge of the bed at her side. “I’m here, Love.  Are you in pain?  Regina is just outside, I can summon her…”
            Emma merely shakes her head, reaching her hand out from under the layers of warm blankets she remembers him tucking around her a couple hours before. Looking up into his fathomless blue, blue eyes, she closes her fingers around his hook, hanging on for dear life. “No, it’s not that,” she assures him, gazing up into his face, drinking in every perfect, adoring feature as he stares back at her.  “I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t disappear, that you were still with me…” She trails off, looking sheepish but also honest.  They might be more than she would usually say, but she cannot make herself take the words back.
            He traces his hand across her forehead soothingly, then lets his fingers tangle gently in her hair, pulling her up to press the softest of kisses to her lips.  “Don’t worry, Darling,” he murmurs, his caress easing her pounding heart.  “It took me centuries to find you.  I won’t be letting go of my saving grace now.  We will put an end to this darkness and treachery. Our love story is only beginning.”
            And with those words Emma is able to fall back into a healing, dreamless sleep.  
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