#because if I’m special ordering a ream down the road

[nerdierholler]

Probably going to print out my text block today. Here’s some comparisons to the first one I bound. The first time I was intentionally trying to make it as short as possible with little text and small margins so I was dealing with fewer signatures. This is over 100 pages longer (150 ish -> 280 ish) but (I think) looks more similar to a “real” hardcover typeset.

Debating just printing it on regular printer paper because I can’t find letter sized paper in the right color and weight that won’t require trimming and I’m not sure I’m ready to drop $50 on the right paper. Though for 1000 sheets it’s not a bad price for specialty paper.

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

The Valkyries Men: 1

Masterlist

The Valkyries Men Masterlist

Bucky Barnes X Plus!Size Reader X Steve Rogers

Warnings: Nothing major, cursing

A/N: This is just the first chapter getting introductions out of the way! The reader is a Valkyrie that was brought to earth by her mothers to protect her, reader doesn't know her father but it isn't Thor or Loki! Once again I make no promises on chapter length or how many they will be! Or when I will post more!

Words: +3,300

June 1943

It was bouncy over the rutted out muddy roads, the entire unit that sat in the back of the convoy van was trying to sleep, but it was obvious the driver wasn’t going easy on them. The snappy special forces agent as they had been calling the man, regarding him with more authority than the others reached up to the front through the small port between driver& passengers. Calloused, bare hand smacking the shit out of the back of the driver’s head for the last rut that he had purposefully hit.

“What the fuck,” the driver yelled out, slamming on the brakes to lurch the truck to a stop, the one bent through the small window holding tight & glaring at the driver as he snapped back to begin chewing the man’s ass that had hit him.

“Goddamn it! I know you hit that one on purpose shit head! These men are trying to get some rest back here,” the Y/H/C ‘man’ snarled out apparent that the drivers rank meant nothing.

“Who the fuck are you…,” the young driver began to snarl out at least until he seen the glittering special forces insignia with the eagle, SHIELD, which meant this officer out ranked them all.

“Special Forces Gunnrdottir. Now, by my watch,” the agent began looking to the futuristic watch that had a golden Stark insignia in cursive across it's face, “we will still arrive on time even if you miss all the pot holes in Germany is that understood?”

“Uh… yes sir… it's no problem,” the man stammered the officer shooting him a smirk before patting him on the head.

“Good, now let’s go,” Y/N laughed to herself thinking if the men knew a female officer had just reamed the drivers ass that would make it twice as funny, but these Midgardians were funny about their woman.

A thing Y/N & her mothers had to get used to when banished here before she was born a few weeks shy of 26 years ago, gods only knew who the young Valkyries father was. Y/N’ sire was Aesir but neither mother would tell her just who they were, citing it was a danger to know the man.

Plopping back into the cramped seat she occupied next to a guy her age that introduced himself as Sgt. Barnes of the 107th , the agent not meaning to jar the poor guy who had been trying to sleep, arms folded across his chest, hat pulled over azure eyes in attempts to rest. The pistols she carried knocking into him from how haphazardly they were strapped against ample curves but then again they were all packed like sardines.

“Sorry bout that,” the officer apologized for hitting the sergeant who let out a huff at the inconvenience but once he peaked out to the special forces agent he thought the hateful remark wasn’t worth the risk of being reprimanded.

“S’okay, thanks for speaking up for my men,” he began, deciding the guy couldn’t be all that bad if he went up to bat for the troops that had been dropped off mere minutes ago & suffering jet lag.

“No problem, we could all use the rest,” the agent sighed out, relaxing back to do the same as him, but shocked as the man formally extended a hand to shake as the truck started out slowly & not hitting every hole possible.

“James Buchanan Barnes, friends call be Bucky,” he smiled watching the agent extend his own calloused hand to take it.

“Bjorn Ivar Gunnrdottir, um don’t really have any friends so call me Bjorn,” the agent laughed with a hardy hand shake before taking it back with a smirk.

“Where you from? I'm just asking because that is a very complex name,” Bucky laughed finding the agents moves mesmerizing now that he was awake from the sudden jerk of the convoy that was thankfully avoiding the ruts.

“My mom is from Norway, very old fashioned, but they moved to the Appalachian mountains when I was 5. What about you,” Y/N asked quietly, obvious some of the others were getting back to sleep.

“Brooklyn,” Bucky smiled with pride Y/E/C orbs looking him over quickly thankful he didn’t notice, he was a fine specimen of a man, even if men weren’t her type she could see him in her bed.

“Well that explains the attitude,” Y/N laughed out making the Sargent realize the agent was trying to lessen the tension between them.

“So, what brings special forces to camp,” the soldier smiled at the agent it seemed he was awake now & needed someone to talk to.

“Besides the obvious? I have battle plans for the Col. Philips, new maps that I have been drawing to show where hidden bunkers are & all the other intel that comes with spy work,” Y/N smirked, leaving the sergeant to guess if she told the truth of if she was pulling his leg.

“Sniper,” Bucky asked hinting to the riffle case that had banged against their legs but now thankfully rested under the seat with little movement, Y/N smirking back to the one he had slung over his shoulder.

“I should ask you the same, but yeah, when I need to,” Y/N smiled, both finally relaxing back to enjoy the quiet & smoother ride.

“Good to know,” the soldier smirked as they both attempted a bit of sleep before they made it to camp, Bucky quick to steal one last glimpse, in awe at how the agent sat & relaxed back, actions that told him this was more than just any man.

July 1943

Spine cracking as she stretched, letting out an exasperated sigh the binder had to be worn to bed to hide ample breast & cursing the Midgardians for their backwards ways. Gaze snapping to the entrance of the entrance of the large tent as the flap snapped back to reveal a drenched Sgt. Barnes that looked over the now shaggy haired Agent Bjorn as they had taken to calling the special forces officer that took up for their company.

“Fuck me Sgt Barnes! Your mom not teach you to knock,” Y/N snapped out at the drenched man that looked more troubled than usual, a harsh grip on the riffle sling that laid across his shoulder.

“Your mommas teach you to talk like that Agent,” Bucky shot back hotly drawing back to their private conversation about ‘him’ being raised by two women, the fowl mouthed agent laughing out as he jerked the shirt off of the foot of the bed & pulled it on over the t-shirt, having slept in the pants being they were wrinkled.

“As a matter of fact, Sgt, they did, so bite me,” Y/N sneered, buttoning the shirt to tuck it into the pants, noting it was still dark & the trumpet hadn’t sounded, thankful she kept a small lamp burning for emergencies like this.

“You're a feisty little fucker you know that,” Barnes laughed out before stepping forward as the agent laced up the boots & began throwing on numerous belts & straps that held an array of weaponry.

“Sure am, what’s wrong,” Y/N looked worriedly at the sergeant, despite how hard Bucky tried to hide his feelings she knew.

“Col. Philips said he needs two snipers to watch for the supply convoy that is headed this way & I don’t trust any of the newest recruits to have my back so the only other in camp is you,” he tried to joke but this was more than a supply run that was coming in this was some of Howard Stark's things that were due to come in ahead of Peggy Carter & the billionaire.

“No problem, you aright Barnes,” Y/N began looking at him running fingers through shaggy Y/H/C locks that needed a cut before pulling the hat on, throwing the coat on & riffle over her shoulder.

“Yeah…,” he breathed out following the agents every move, a habit he had taken to, studying Agent Bjorn the last month & a half unable to pinpoint why his were so different.

“No actually, haven’t heard from my mom about my sister being sick, letters haven’t been getting through,” he admitted to the agent that stepped forward handing an extra belt of ammo he usually carried to Bucky.

“Well that is supposed to be coming in on this convoy so good news, don’t worry,” the agent smiled, wanting to do more than just a pat on soaked shoulder before they both stepped out into the drizzling rain.

“Two,” Bucky began looking through the binoculars over at the opposite ridges spotting enemy that was waiting for the convoy like them.

“No, there are more, there down in the valley,” Y/N hinted to the road that looked clear from where they were positioned, watching over their men that were on the ground about 200 or so feet from them.

“How… you don’t have the binoculars…,” Bucky huffed out, moving to look where the agent hinted, Bjorn hadn’t been wrong before.

“The tree that is moving slightly, that aint wind,” the agent spoke Bucky finally finding what Bjorn spoke of barely able to make out the slightest shake before spotting several more that outnumbered them.

“We should move…,” Y/N began before the sounds of a convoy reached their ears.

“Fuck me… we should move,” Bucky began, both hurrying to their feet before it turned to chaos.

Each taking out what they could, both looking on in horror as one of the enemy soldiers threw a grenade in front of the lead truck, guts knotting painfully. Y/N cussing under fogging breath & rushing for it so it wouldn’t destroy troops or supplies. The sergeant at her back screaming for the agent to stop but it was too late grenade in hand, pulling it close to her chest & blowing body back into the muddy bank.

The impact of explosive & body into the earth blowing the entire convoy with bits of mud as it barreled through, ordered not to stop & thankfully they didn’t. Bucky running into the crater that should have been littered with bits of agent but only showed a smirking Y/N caked in mud & debris, gaze shooting down to realize the reason Bucky froze, boobs.

“Ohhh, fuck me, coat Barnes! Hurry,” Y/N hollered out to the stunned sergeant that slowly fell to his knees refusing to jerk the coat off, Y/N struggling forward quick to remove it herself tossing it on as others of the 107th approached.

“Get up Sergeant & keep your mouth shut. We will talk later,” Y/N hushed as she jerked the stunned Bucky to stumbling feet & pulling him with her out of the crater.

“Holy shit! You're alive,” one of the privates shouted as they neared the two, Y/N smirking while Bucky looked HER over for a moment before doing as she suggested.

“Sleight of hand boys,” Y/N laughed out, running muddy hand through slicked back shaggy hair the stunned sergeant just going through the motions to follow numbly, he no SHE should be dead, the one getting congratulated, the one that he was numbly handing a riffle to.

“It's alright Barnes, let’s get back,” Y/N smiled at him, the group beginning to walk the road back, Bucky not about to let the WOMAN out of his sight.

He was nervous holy shit why was he nervous, SHE had lied that she was a woman, he had paled along with Agent Bjorn for an entire month, catching himself studying how HE moved & realized that he moved like a woman. Though Bjorn wasn’t just any woman, SHE was one that could take a fucking grenade to the chest & live. The one he had been purposefully avoiding since they had made it back to camp thankful that as soon as they entered the muddy encampment she was pulled away to deal with the crates from stark.

Sitting in the mess hall Bucky kept to himself, still replaying the days events as he stared into the cup of coffee, motion at the door making azure eyes train on the MP stepping in & scanning the hall over before starting for him with letters in hand. Sitting back to puzzle at the older MP because he wasn’t the mail delivery kid but taking it & realizing it was all addressed to him.

“Agent Bjorn told me to bring these directly to you instead of the mail tent,” he explained Bucky noting they were mostly form his mom & looking relieved to find several in his sisters hand writing.

“Tell him thanks,” was all he could mutter as he downed the coffee & left for the barrack.

Hurrying through the driving rain into the semi-crowded barrack apparent he wasn’t the only one that was there hiding from the rain & mud. Kicking mud caked boots off before jumping to the top bunk to read the letters wanting to make sure everyone was alright & there wasn’t a letter telling him Steve got his ass handed to him. Pausing as he realized the jacket Bjorn had taken was hung neatly & cleaned.

“Agent Bjorn brought that by just before you came back from mess,” the one that shared his bunk under him, Dum Dum is what they called him.

“Um yeah, he had the MP bring me my mail to, guess he’s glad he’s alive,” Bucky began, hoping onto the bunk still in shock.

“Bjorn has to be a tough bastard to have been blown back into the bank like that & not blowing his hand off,” Dum Dum laughed.

The soldier putting on the bowler hat to head out with the others to mess this time, leaving th sergeant alone in the barrack to go through the letters, filling relief wash over him as he recognized his sister’ hand writing & everyone was doing ok. Grabbing his pen & paper that he kept under his pillow, quickly writing letters back to his mom & sister along with his pain in the ass friend.

Several hours later found Bucky hurrying through the cold night with his own letters to the mail tent the MP catching up with him.

“Finally,” the man blurted this one was different from the one from earlier. “Agent Bjorn needs you to meet in his tent. I’ve been trying to find you all evening didn’t realize you were hiding out in the barracks.”

“Yeah lot on my mind, say what it was,” he huffed out, still not sure if he was up to talking to her still filling a tinge of betrayal that he… fuck she never told him or was able to keep it hidden.

“No, said either you go meet with him or I'm to escort you there under threat of court martial,” the MP admitted with a nervous smile, Bucky’ brow furrowing for a moment, apparent Y/N anticipated his leeriness of her.

“Then let me drop these off & I will be on my way,” he smiled warily heading into the tent then doing as ordered.

A soft knock getting the young Valkyries attention from the newest map that needed going over, having scouted out another HYDRA base a few days . The agent wanted to make sure that its size & location had been marked properly before turning to the sergeant to find out just how he truly felt about HER now.

“Come in,” she called out, pen moving swiftly over the paper to write a few notes before rolling it up & shoving it into a leather document roll.

Shit! How could he not realize that a plump ass like that belonged to a woman, agent… whatever… bent over the table that was lit by a bright light overhead, brighter than a torch. The sergeant  recognizing the curves from the back through the tank top she sported was tight over a binder that held what he saw as ample breast back to keep her identity.

“You get your letters,” Y/N began as she turned, grabbing the shirt that was on the single bed & threw it one before turning around to hide the binder.

“Yeah thanks,” Bucky nervously spoke, noting Y/E/C orbs look over the bloody gash on furrowed brow received when the two of them had toppled from the dirt bank to stop the convoy from hitting the grenade that was tossed.

“Have a seat, I need to explain & you need something on that wound other than whatever that nurse put on it,” she hinted to the chair next to the bed, the sergeant hesitating as Y/N stopped her movements, pausing the reach for the vile that was on the table next to the wash basin.

“Is that an order,” he spoke apprehension in his voice as he looked at the agent nervously for the first time.

“Yes it is, regardless of recent… developments I am still your superior & yes Philips knows so sit,” Y/N ordered, the soldier sitting in the seat as she gathered the glass vile that had some sort of paste in it.

“I lied to you… you have every right to be pissed,” Y/N began, taking a clean warm cloth from the steaming wash basin, brows furrowing more & making the gash open slightly, pondering how she had hot water.

“Names Y/N Gunnrdottir, I am an agent with SHIELD & no I am not human, I am a Valkyrie,” Y/N explained.

The proud woman stepping up to the soldier who remained still, leaning back to look up & make it easy to clean the wound. Motions gentle to be careful to not hurt him as she cleaned the dried blood & whatever it was the nurse had put on the wound.

“What’s a…,” he interrupted flinching a little as nimble fingers gingerly applied the paste that stung for a moment but instantly felt 10 times better.

“Valkyrie? A woman warrior that comes from Asgard, straight out of Norse mythology, takes a lot to harm us & as you can tell a grenade want do it,” she smiled backing away to look down at him taking a seat on the bed to continue the conversation if he didn’t get up & walk out.

“Woman warriors? Like amazons…,” Bucky countered making Y/N snort at the comparison but shake Y/H/C head in agreement.

“Yeah, like that but we live longer & are more resilient,” she smiled, still obvious the sergeant was still at a loss for what to say or do, azure eyes raking over the form before him, thinking that… holy shit it was hot in the tent & his pants were tight.

“You really have two moms…,” he counters back, poor guy looked so bumfuzzled he hadn’t a clue where to start.

“Yeah, you see, all our, meaning Valkyries, partners, mates, lovers are women, we don’t sleep with men at all unless it is for reproductive purposes that’s why I'm here. I'm 26 just like you so no need to ask how old I am,” Y/N smiled at the still stunned Bucky who looked to.

“Sapphics,” Bucky blurted bringing name to the women that loved women, making Y/N laugh out, “so no wonder you’re good with the girls.”

“All I just told you & that is your take,” Y/N laughed out, the tension in the room finally fading.

“Sorry doll,” he laughed, freezing as he called her doll, looking worriedly as if she may rip his throat out.

“Sorry… I didn’t… don’t take it the wrong way… fuck I'm usually better with women than this… goddamn it Barnes shit up…,” Bucky rambled out Y/N eyeing him with a smirk, watching the sergeant shift in the seat & catching a glimpse of the bugle in the pants, one that made heat flood her lower half.

“It's ok… I like the pet name… but just not in front of the guys,” Y/N smiled, meeting sapphire orbs as he nodded in agreement.

“So, you still ok with working with me,” Y/N hesitated to ask but needed to know not wanting to admit she was finding herself more attracted to him than any woman lately, swearing the crotch of her pants were becoming saturated with arousal.

“Yeah, believe I am,” he smiled, both sitting up to finish having the long overdue conversation.

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@whovianwookie86-captainxev@jazzieomega

[amwritingmeta]

Can we talk about that gas and sip episode? Like at the end were it's night time ever and Dean asks Cas "were to?" And the very next scene it's MORNING and Dean is dropping Cas off at the gas and sip. WTH?

Oh, my darling! This is SO late. I hope you can forgive me… I’ll try and make it up to you by saying YES WE DAMN WELL CAN TALK ABOUT THIS FANFIC GAP BECAUSE IT IS EPIC!!

:P

So I think you may be aware of how much I love this arc and how much I love human!Cas. I love it because it focuses Cas in a way that not many other moments in his progression has managed to do and it tells us, in no unequivocal terms, what his endgame is. He’ll reach it when he’s made the choice that will answer the question posed to him: Angel or man? Right? YES!

So this question comes at him by the end of 9x06 - the episode where the moment you’re referring to occurs - and this episode as a whole is a thing of beauty, especially where Dean and Cas are concerned. It gives us SO MUCH. (I know that this is not news) (as with most things I’m certain there are reams written on this episode and this arc) (but I haven’t written much on it save for in tags so I’m excited I get to tackle it) (and yeah this will probably get kinda long…) (ahem)

Okay, I’m going to answer your question, but first I want us to have a bit of an overview.

Firstly, consider the reason Cas isn’t in the bunker –> Gadreel. 

Because of Gadreel’s objections in 9x03, Dean asked/told Cas he had to leave.

Yeah, so now Dean gets a call from Cas and Dean is so fucking pleased, though a little thrown, and he tries to chat, gets told Cas is only calling him because of a case Dean might want to look into, further getting informed that Cas is “busy” and realises Cas just blew him off. 

He’s busy? Busy with what exactly and is he okay and what was that noise in the background? 

So. 

Dean doesn’t just go to where Cas said the case is, oh no, because Dean Winchester - hunter extraordinaire - tracks Castiel - former angel of the lord - down and in the process tells Sam, not once, but twice, that he absolutely does not need Sam’s help or want him anywhere the fuck near this case because then, due to that cockblocker Gadreel, Dean definitively will not get to spend any time with Cas. 

Which is the primary reason Dean gets on the road and the only reason Dean gets on the road without Sam and then goes on to assure Sam he’s got it covered and doesn’t need him to come join him. Like, yeah, Dean, you’re feeling all kinds of mixed emotions, right? Guilt, longing, need, worry? And you want to see Cas and you want to make sure he’s okay.

That is, if Cas even wants to spend time with him, which Dean is still unsure of. Hence the hesitation and frown-y face as he watches Cas through those big Gas ‘n Sip windows. 

Seriously, is he okay? What the hell is he doing? This is the last damn place on Earth that I’d ever thought I’d find him and what exactly is the dude wearing?

But Dean braves it. With a grin. Because he’s nervous as all hell that he’ll get shot down after he behaved like a complete asshat, throwing Cas out of the bunker like that, and Cas only called about a case so Dean showing up here might not be welcome. In fact, he might get asked to get the fuck out of there. (even though Cas did pick up the phone to call him so…)

Now, Cas – sorry - Steve – does look taken aback. Actually, he looks downright shocked to see Dean’s face. Like he expected he never would again, at least not so soon, and not here, like he genuinely expected Dean to only be interested in the case. (damn these men and their inability to openly communicate) (of course also bless them because it is what makes their interaction so fucking enticing) (that they’re both such major idiots)

All this said, it could be argued (let me headcanon ok?) that Cas, somewhere, in the back recesses of his mind, hoped that placing a call about a case in the very town he’s staying in would mean they’d run into each other.

Running into each other so that Cas could show how well-adjusted he is, of course. That he’s got a job and a… place to sleep. Which is in the back of a Gas ‘n Sip, but Dean wouldn’t need to know that anymore than Cas’ boss knows. Well, she does now, but she thinks he’s just a dedicated employee. She doesn’t know that he’s homeless. (or quite possibly she does) (she seems to take Cas for who he is, not what he is) (and sees the core kindness of him and doesn’t question it but repays it)

Well, there’s no run-in on the street in the cards for Cas and Dean, is there? Nope. Because Dean is far from as casual about the whole thing and he wants to see Cas and he tracks him and finds him. And now here Dean is, face to face with Steve, and he cannot believe this is where Cas has ended up.

Mostly because Cas is fine. Cas is more than fine, he’s a little pissed off and clearly wholly dismissive and obviously uncomfortable with Dean invading this new life he’s building, but other than that, he seems to be okay with being human.

And Dean tries to needle an admittance of doubt out of him. Dean, naturally, thinks this gig is way, way below Cas, right? Out of all the things he could’ve chosen to do, he finds the most menial task a person can engage in (pardon me, all you Gas ‘n Sippers out there, I mean no offence, but compared to what Cas has done in the past…) Cas has chosen to engage with something that doesn’t speak to his skill set at all. And Dean is like WHY??

So he tries to make Cas admit that working at a gas station is below him, that he thinks he deserves more than this, more or less steering Cas towards admitting that his humanity is a burden and he hates it and all he wants is to be an angel again. Only, Cas doesn’t. 

Why? Again, because Cas is fine. Fine with being human. Fine with this being his reality. Fine, fine, fine. And Dean still can’t understand why, until it’s revealed that Cas has a hot boss. It’s about a girl! Wonderful. Awesome. Very human. And terrifying. Because where exactly does all this leave Dean? He shut Cas out of his life in order to protect Sam, and now it turns out Cas is happily shutting him out, because he never really needed Dean’s help. Did he?

So what’s the one thing Dean Winchester - hunter extraordinaire - can think to do? Well, how about hooking Cas into considering what they used to share? 

Come on, Cas, come on this case. Remember how much fun that used to be? Remember the good old times? I’ll remind you. I’ll damn well remind you of what you’re giving up. 

Needy, Dean. Very, very needy. Just let him go, man. He’s okay. You didn’t break him by throwing him out. He’s fine. Leave it alone. But of course, Dean doesn’t. And they go investigating. And Dean comes to realise something: 

Cas is fucking mortal. 

He can die. Yes, remember that, Dean? Now he does. Because Cas suddenly expresses his own fear of dying, telling Dean that things are different now. Things feel different. Such a wholly human thing of him to say! *heart eyes*

And the shoe drops: Dean doesn’t need any more prompting. He tells Cas to stay safe, to go on that date, to live a normal life. And Cas isn’t happy with that wording, because he feels like a fucking coward, but yeah, he doesn’t want to die. Again. (also he promised Dean he wouldn’t so…) And Nora is nice and going on dates is something humans do.

So there’s another gap here, you realise? Because it’s broad daylight when Dean and Cas go to check out that high school crime scene, and then it’s 7pm when they drive up to Nora’s house. So what did they do in the interim? Maybe they went to a pub or a bar for a beer and a chat, or maybe they even went to get Dean a motel room, because he hadn’t done that yet. Wouldn’t surprise me if he, way too eager to see Cas, just rolled into town. :P

Then, of course, we get the reveal that Nora thought of Cas as the Babysitter (which is so ironic I don’t even know what to say about it) (the term has been tossed around throughout the series) (especially in later seasons) (for example when Dean calls Cas out on acting the Winchester’s babysitter in 12x19) (and there’s more to discuss on this topic but I’m leaving it) and left alone in Nora’s house Cas gets a visit from Ephraim, the angel of mercy, who wants to take all his pain and confusion away.

Noteworthy is the fact that Cas didn’t want to walk into danger, but when faced with it steps between it and the innocent child he thinks is threatened. He will always, always act the shield. This core trait instinctively wipes away any fear or second thought for his own safety. It’s pretty fucking glorious to behold.

We also learn something here: Cas is in pain. The truth is that he is forcing himself into a role he’s not designed to play, submitting to his mortality and making a go of what he assumes is the human way of doing things because…

Because he was rejected by Dean.

I mean, it’s quite simply this exact thing that’s made him embrace his humanity in this non-Cas way, because he’s alone and without a rudder and all he can think is that he’s useless without his powers, and what is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to help? April nearly killed him. The angels all hate him and rightfully so. He’s hiding and trying to forget about all of it, except he can’t entirely - hence the taking note of the nearby case and calling Dean in to take care of it.

By turning himself into Steve, Cas is going against his core traits: to help and to protect. This isn’t a good place for him to be. (hence the change of name) (he’s literally acting a role he’s assigned himself) (the human version of him needs a name not tied to Heaven) (he’s pretending he doesn’t have a past because the guilt of what has happened is so extreme he doesn’t know how to even face it) (because he feels utterly powerless)

So the lesson he’s meant to learn in this episode is exactly that. He can talk big and tell Dean that he’s found purpose and dignity in what he’s chosen for himself, but the truth is that what makes him special - as Nora tells him - is the way he cares. 

A rose by any other name, Castiel. You cannot wipe out who you truly are by pretending to be someone else.

Nora’s dialogue as Cas leaves her house more or less serves to shine a light on the truth of Ephraim’s challenge, because the challenge for Cas to decide how to continue - as an angel or as a man - isn’t really the choice Cas has to make for himself. It’s whether he continues to stick his head in the sand when he’s needed the most, allowing his fear of dying to give him a free pass, or whether he chooses to face this fear, and play big, in spite of it.

(let’s also not forget about this gap between when Cas and Dean together defeat Ephraim and Nora comes back from her date) (because they straight up looked after a baby together) (and I want to see that on screen more than I want to see them in Dean’s procured motel room tbh) (oh wait) (now we have JACK) (god I love S13) :P

So when Dean asks Cas “Where to?” the grim expression on Cas’ face has everything to do with the fact that he hasn’t decided how to answer that question yet. He has no fucking idea where to go from here or even where he wants to be headed. 

So here we now land in my reply to your actual question. 

I’m going to give you my way of filling in the gap of this night we never got to witness, and it’s platonic af. Yeah, that’s right. P.l.a.t.o.n.i.c.

I mean, I think Cas stayed quiet in that car, lost in thought, and Dean suggested hey, you hungry, grab a bite to eat? So maybe they went to restaurant and talked and it was all good, or maybe Dean asked him where he’s staying and Cas just muttered and Dean suggested hey, why don’t you come back to the motel, huh? Because of course Dean wants to drag this out for as long as possible and there’s beer and they can get some food on the way and just… hang out. And maybe Dean was thinking and hoping that maybe Cas, who clearly wants to get laid again, would be up for flirtation, but —

– but here’s the thing. The way I read Dean, especially where he’s at in his progression at this point, considering that he’s on the precipice of letting his self-hatred get the better of him in such a way that he decides to take the MoC on himself, my reading of him is that he’s simply not in a mindset to make a move on Cas. He just doesn’t have the balls to risk this incredibly important relationship because he’s horny. (remember he hasn’t admitted to himself yet exactly how much he fucking LOVES Cas, right) (that won’t happen until S11 and Mildred’s hand placed over his heart)

If Cas instigated it, oh, fuck yeah. I think Dean would’ve happily engaged in a night of debauchery and his self-loathing would then have explained it away as nothing but some fun between friends, going so far as to completely convince himself that of course Cas doesn’t FEEL anything. Oh, and neither does Dean, because love and happiness are such scary concepts (because Good Things Don’t Last) that even the thought of them are suppressed swiftly and efficiently and all that this ever was, for the both of them, was sex between friends, nothing more. But —

– but Cas is in no state to instigate anything here. 

He’s low. He’s had severe blows delivered throughout the episode and the only thing keeping him up is the fact that Dean’s there. So even if they don’t have a deep heart-to-heart about the decision Cas is about to make for himself, the fact that Dean is there as support, I believe, has a huge bearing on where that decision actually lands. 

So, we have a Cas who is feeling low and, I’d argue, doesn’t have his mind set on sex as emotional consolation, mostly because he’s still unsure of what exactly that longing he feels from Dean means. He’s still unsure about what it is he feels. You know? He’s just now starting to suss out the vastness and depths of human emotion - he says as much in this episode when discussing Ephram’s motivations with Dean. It’s still a confusing jumble, just as it is for most humans. 

I believe what Cas needs when he gets into the Impala is a friend. And beyond that what he needs, more than anything else, is a hot meal, an even hotter shower and a warm, soft bed to sleep in for the first time since… Well, a very long time, I’d say. 

I do headcanon with my last breath, though, that this is the night when these two fell in love for real. Like they were attracted to each other and there was respect and intrigue and they were doing a joint circling of falling in love (hello that year in Purgatory) (but of course Dean told himself that was all about comrades in arms) (and Dean being hellbent on finding Cas and bringing him home was all about how Cas said “I’ll go with you” and then he died) (even when he didn’t want to face any conflict) (because he backed Dean) (and Dean wasn’t just gonna leave him in fucking Purgatory was he…?) but this is where that emotion manifested, irreversibly, for the both of them. 

Like they got to see new sides to each other that they had never been privvy to before. Instigated by them fighting off a death threat as a team, but really deepened by them taking care of a baby as a borderline couple and seeing what that domesticity could be like, and then Dean showing support and understanding and them simply having a low-key evening together, staying in the same room with absolutely nothing more needing to happen than them falling asleep after hours of talking about life and their past and just getting to know each other on a completely different level.

Because with a Dean that is way too insecure and in no mood of doing something stupid that might jeopardise his friendship with Cas now that his last stupid thing has been put behind them, and with a Cas equally in the process of finding his footing as a human and individual and really not being about the sex, but much more about making a connection, I just don’t see them getting it on in this episode.

That’s not to say that it’s not open for that interpretation. This is MY reading, peeps. And I love toying with the idea that something happened. But to me it doesn’t fit in with how I read the canon narrative, is all. And it doesn’t have to. I’m just basing my reply on that reading, rather than all the possibilities if venturing away from how I view it. :P (I’m also not saying I’m the only one to view it this way) (I’m just not going to bunch people into a we when I’m not entirely sure who the we is) :)

Moving on.

After the lessons learned in this episode, in 9x09 we get to witness where Cas lands, which is in the decision to don fed threads and insert himself into the brothers’ investigation, going head first into a situation to do with angels warring with each other, stating that this is something he should be involved in.

In other words, a 180 in attitude from the start of 9x06 and his fear of facing possible death. (as well as, of course, facing the anger and disgust of his kin) (fleeing responsibility as a human) (finally coming to the realisation of his own accord that not only does running away go against everything he believes in) (but everything that truly makes him him as well) (he can’t just turn his back)

It makes me teary eyed and emotional. He’s been told by Dean to go live his life, and this is what he chooses for himself. No more aimlessness, no more questioning where he should be or where he belongs, he steps into that crime scene intent on being a part of the fight Dean told him isn’t his anymore. *head fucking exploding with joyyyyy*

Now, on that note ^^^ let’s look at the very final scene of 9x06.

So, Dean apologises for telling Cas to leave the bunker, something that’s been weighing on him ever since he first laid eyes on Cas in that Gas ‘n Sip, I’m sure. Like, why not open with this, Dean? 

(because he’s a scaredy cat and he wanted to charm the pants off…… well……. Cas and suss out if their friendship had been seriously damaged before even breeching the subject of how he failed to be there for Cas when he needed him the most) 

And then Dean tells Cas he’s proud that he’s adapting to this new life, even if it’s been hard. 

And that’s a complete 180 with regards to what his attitude was at the start of the episode. It’s a brilliant emotional bookend for our Dean! 

Instead of being needy and trying to get Cas to come play with him as in Please, remember the good times, Cas! Dean is letting go. He doesn’t want to. Like, he really, really does not want to. (Jensen plays this scene so well) (and God Misha is amazing in this episode) (GAH) 

But this choice of letting go isn’t just because of Gadreel now, it’s because Cas doesn’t want to die. And Dean doesn’t want Cas to die. So, Dean forces himself to because it’s the right thing to do and he tells Cas to go live his life. And, again, I don’t think he’s fully come to terms with how in love he really is with Cas, but we know, through this action, exactly how much he loves him.

And the narrative knows. And sets up a big reward, even though Dean can’t quite see it as such, when Cas chooses to return to him in 9x09.

I mean, Dean sees Cas being reckless with his life. Again. But, really, if Dean hadn’t come to the Gas ‘n Sip and instilled a sense of having faith in Cas even without his powers, Cas might not have come to the realisation that he was lying to himself about what his purpose ought to be. All that pain he’s been suppressing, all that worry and lack of self-worth because he wasn’t entirely sure why Dean had rejected him, it eases when Dean shows up unannounced and encourages him that they should work a case together.

Dean: So? I’ve never had any powers.

I think that’s ^^^ a pivotal line in this episode and something Cas has to understand. Still. Going on six years later. His powers do not define him. His powers are not the reason he’s valued and important to Dean, or to Sam. 

Anyway, for 9x06 what he had to understand is that deep down he’s a shield and a protector, always and forever. He’s not meant to nuke nachos and keep bathrooms clean. And he does understand it. If human is what he’s going to be, then he’s meant to be a hunter. Plain and simple. So, a hunter in training he’ll be. And off he goes. To help the angels. (and to be close to Dean again)

There. One simple, straightforward request for a bit of a discussion on one fanfic gap in an episode became four and a half pages of meta analysis and headcanon and spec about intention and the characters’ emotional architecture for you. And flailing about one of my favourite episodes of this show. Like hands down top ten. Easy peasy don’t even have to ponder it. 9x09 and 9x10 belonging high up on that list as well. 

Right. I could write an essay about this arc and how important I think it is, how it becomes an axis that turns and rotates the entire series in a new direction and informs not only the love story, but so much of the codependency and the main characters’ individual arcs as well. It’s just full of bright, bright moments and horrible heartache and it’s all so part of the reason why we love this damned show, right?

Thanks for the prompt, my lovely. And do excuse my reply being so abysmally late!!

xx

[junker-town]

'Do Your Job Part 2' is worth your time, even if you hate the Patriots

There is more than one reason that Do Your Job Part 2, a film about the New England Patriots’ run to Super Bowl LI, exists. Yes, first and foremost, it is chum to feed to a ravenous Patriots fanbase, who will, en masse, record this and set to “keep until delete” on their DVRs. (A film like this is basically fetish pornography to someone from Saugus, Mass. or Rye, N.H.)

But even if you aren’t a Patriots fan, there is something to gain from watching a film like this. There are lessons to be gleaned here, lessons about myth-making and the rewriting of history, as well as ones about team management and image management, and, yes, about the fine art of spewing bullshit.

It is all there.

The hour-long special aired first on Sunday night of Labor Day Weekend on NBC, and will be replayed this Wednesday on the NFL Network. It follows the same basic narrative structure of the original Do Your Job, which highlighted the Patriots’ run to a Super Bowl XLIX win over the Seattle Seahawks.

Matthew Emmons-USA TODAY Sports

This film is not nearly as good as the original, it must be said, but sequels rarely are. The original took the theme of “do your job” and spun a narrative out of the idea that each and every member of the Patriots’ organization was responsible for the Super Bowl win by virtue of doing his job well. It was a bit trite, sure, but for the most part it worked. Each guy had his story to tell, his tiny addition to the overall, which all resulted in Malcolm Butler picking off Russell Wilson at the goal line. That, combined with the drama of Deflategate — which they actually discuss, at length, in the original film — made the whole thing work as a narrative. Or at least as much as a Patriots Super Bowl highlight film can work as a narrative.

This time they don’t really have that structure, or really any structure at all, to fall back on. The filmmakers introduce the idea of “hills” early on — we see the Patriots running up one repeatedly — and come back to it again and again, with the basic argument being that because the Patriots ran up a hill a few months ago, it gave them the endurance to outlast the Falcons in that wild second-half comeback. Which, I mean, I guess? I think it helped them a lot more that they had the greatest NFL quarterback of all time throwing the ball than any hill they might have run up, but then again, I’m no NFL expert.

With nothing much going on story-wise, what’s left is basically a rundown of each of the Patriots’ playoff games, with a long time focused on that second-half comeback against the Falcons.

So, you’re probably asking: If I’m not a Patriots fan, why should I watch this?

The unstated promise of these films is the chance to get the inside scoop, that little bit of football knowledge you couldn’t possibly have unless you hear it from the coaches. And there is a little bit of that for the Xs-and-Os lovers of us out there.

You get Belichick showing how the Falcons were playing man and jamming up the middle of the field for Tom Brady and Co., which led to a second-half adjustment of having the receivers running hard cut-back routes on the outside. You get Patriots resident guru/geek Ernie Adams pointing out how it looked like Julio Jones had trouble cutting off his injured right foot in the NFC Championship Game, so the Pats' cornerbacks tried to play him heavy on his right side during the Super Bowl, daring him to cut left. (And then you find out that Julio Jones is not a human being, and it didn’t make any difference at all.)

You get defensive coordinator Matt Patricia explaining how Dont’a Hightower lined up extra wide to confuse the Falcons’ running backs, which allowed him to get to Matt Ryan for that pivotal fumble that changed the game.

You also get a lot of bullshit. Like, droves of bullshit. You get convoluted coach-speak and oversimplifications and tidy narratives. You get Bill Belichick saying, “I felt like we had control of the game. We just didn’t have control of the score,” which makes so little sense that even Edward Norton, the reverent narrator of the film, has to crack a joke at it.

You get the story that winners tell themselves.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In the context of a football game, it’s actually a useful exercise to see how history gets written by the winners. Take, for example, the much-publicized fact that Bill Belichick had, sensing a high-scoring game, ordered up more than the usual number of 2-point-conversion plays ahead of the Super Bowl. It proved genius, as the Patriots needed two (and then used a third one on the final play) to win the game.

This story conveniently excises all the other stuff the ever-neurotic Belichick probably dialed up the week before the Super Bowl. He might have become convinced there would be a need for nine onside kicks in the game, and had some poor coaching assistant draw up 31 different onside-kick combinations, one of which involved the kicker pretending to have a heart attack on the field just moments before kicking the ball to a surprised defense. We don’t know, though.

That stuff all gets left out, because it doesn’t make him look like a genius.

(We’re also totally excluding the Falcons from any part of this narrative at all. For all we know, poor Dan Quinn had 55 different two-point-conversion plays drawn up for this game. Reams of two-point-conversion plays. A library of them.)

Bob Donnan-USA TODAY Sports

I know it’s silly. Of course it’s silly. It’s sports. None of this really matters, like, at all. But that’s what’s so helpful about a film like this. We can see how outcome shapes narrative in a more-or-less stakes-free environment. Belichick’s two-point-play fixation appears genius, and it’s something Patriots fans will tell their grandkids about. And if they had lost, no one would give a shit.

For me, the movie is at its most interesting when a character is randomly interjected into the narrative. Dion Lewis, who was eclipsed in the Super Bowl by fellow diminutive ball-carrier James White, gets a special shoutout early in the film. Later, player personnel whiz Nick Caserio gets like five minutes of discussion.

It’s not hard to guess why. Lewis, who is still on the Patriots, may have felt overshadowed in that final game. Caserio, who has worked in player personnel in years, was not, as I recall, featured extensively in the first Do Your Job film.

Even in a film for mass consumption, Belichick and the Patriots only seem concerned with one audience: The team. The team is all that matters; it is the end all and be all of their universe. Belichick will allow the gaze of the public, briefly, and take his curtain call, but never at the expense of what he’s trying to do, or of what’s coming down the road. He demands that Lewis and Caserio get that screen time, because he will not jeopardize, even for a moment, their commitment to the next season. I can’t tell if this is admirable or sad. I guess it’s both. It’s on to the next one for Bill Belichick and the Patriots. Even when taking a victory lap, there is a job to be done.

[naughtysenior17-blog]

Fun on the job...not!

One would think that working in the gift shop of a resort hotel in beautiful sunny Florida would be fun. That’s what I thought when I accepted the position as a “retail associate” in a bustling oceanfront establishment, just prior to “season.” I was promised a respectable store discount, a cut on room rates at the chain’s gazillion hotels and motels worldwide, and the “honor” of working for a Fortune 500 company. Of course, health benefits and profit sharing would be provided after my 90-day trial period.

Boy, was I deluded! The best part of the entire six-weeks I spent schlepping stuffed plushy alligators and cheap souvenirs from the hidden store rooms located on various floors of the hotel, and working the cash register, was the orientation and training sessions.

I showed up for the first of several mandated training blocks on-time and ready to drink the company Kool-Aid. Yes, it was boring, sometimes repetitive, and not so informational, but the complimentary food made up for it.  There were miniature pastries, sliced fruit and dark roast coffee for breakfast; a full-spread for lunch at one of establishments’ restaurants, and an afternoon snack complete with root beer floats. So what if I had to wear a polyester shirt and serviceable shoes, walk a mile from the designated parking lot to the underground entrance for “associates” and work with a bunch of women who told me daily how many years they had devoted to the hotel? I was going to eat well and get hotel discounts!

I tried to play along, thanking my designated trainer, an eight-year hotel employee (who spent most of her work shift restocking the candy counter and t-shirt display), for showing me the ropes. When I wore a black sweater that the head honcho lady didn’t approve of, I removed it without comment. I wanted to play well with others, something that hasn’t come easy to me in my decades in the workforce. The first weekend I encountered Mabel, a grey-haired lady of questionable age, somewhere over 80. I complimented her on her choice of black oxfords, and upon return from her lunch break, queried her on the cafeteria selections du jour. “I don’t eat lunch,” she hissed back. So what did she do on her 30 minute break? Sit on the commode waiting for her morning prune juice to kick-in, or hide behind the dumpster smoking Newports? I never found out.

Another co-worker and I shared some common ground; we were both from the Great Garden State of New Jersey! Susan was funny, another company long-termer and happy to demonstrate the many functions of the touch-screen cash register which I instantly saw as my enemy. Words are my friend; numbers are not. But I was game. After all, I HAD to learn how to charge purchases to the room, credit card, local club affiliation, and apply the correct discount for special guests. I poked my index finger ad nauseum at the damn computer screen non-stop with a frozen smile on my face. Of course, I messed up, and after a few elaborate corrections requiring reams of cash register tape, I was reminded WHERE I was working and instructed to “up my game.”

“So, it’s a big deal if I hit the wrong space for band- aids or crackers even if the price is correct?” I asked innocently. You would have thought I declared that Armageddon was scheduled to begin in five minutes.  “Learn it, Pat. This is not rocket science!” I was told by my semi-friend from NJ. “Alright!” I countered with a high-five that was not returned. “Oh, boy,” I thought, “this is not progressing as planned.”

Then one day, one of the many mini-managers named Vera presented me with a five-page print-out of instructions on how to close out the cash drawer at the end of my shift. “Read it and use it!” she directed. “It should not take 45 minutes every day to tally up your sales and cash.”  

“Ha, ha,” I joked good-naturedly. “It’s going to take me 45 minutes just to read this!” One look at Vera’s face and I immediately regretted my remark. “Ummm, may I go to dinner now? It’s 5:30 and Cindy is back, plus I need to run to my car….” “Go!” Vera glared. I grabbed my purse, my hotel ID, and booked it down the promenade to the nearest bank of elevators. It was protocol to allow guests on the lift first, and of course I was competing with a bunch of conventioneers ready for happy hour, so after a 10 minute session of smiling and “after yous,” I boarded, punched BG (below ground) and exited next to the associates’ time clock station and ladies rest room. The first two swipes of my time card and index-finger ID’s failed to register, but the third time was the charm. Next stop, powder room, always a hub of activity. That’s when I spotted “cook lady.” From day one, I encountered her at the sink, and from every single day after that, there she was, adjusting her back brace and zipping up her pants. She spoke loudly in a kind-of voodoo language I didn’t understand, so I always just smiled and said hi. Apparently, this was not the correct greeting, because she always shook her head at me and countered with a few incomprehensible sentences. That’s when I would wave and take my leave. But one day, I thought I heard her say, “I keeyu!” Was that like bonjour or buenos dias?” I smiled and waved. Then it hit me. “I kill you!” Really? Cook lady just stood and stared, wagging her fingers at me. I am not one to take unnecessary chances, so I booked it out of the bathroom, clutching a paper towel in my dripping wet hands. I did not look back until I was safely inside the cafeteria, scanning the daily menu. I never visited that rest tomb (room) again. Instead I traveled to the north side of the hotel where there was a single stall used only by the concierge.

While a $2 meal complete with frozen yoghurt was a great deal, I was beginning to tire of the limited choices. This was definitely not the same food as served in the hotel’s on-site eateries. I opted for the chicken and rice, succotash and vanilla frozen yoghurt plus a coffee to keep me perking along until 9 pm. I found a seat facing the TV screen broadcasting CNN and began eating. I rated the chicken a 7 out of 10, the rice a 5 and the succotash a big fat 0. The frozen yoghurt got a consistent 10. Presidential primary candidates blabbed on, my coffee was cold and it was time for me to begin the trek back to the cash register. I dumped my plates and tray and re-clocked-in for the evening shift.

The customer flow was predictable and not too demanding. I rang up toothbrushes, disposable razors, candy bars and an occasional dolphin refrigerator magnet or manatee bottle opener. A couple of families breezed through killing time on the way to their rooms to allow the kids an opportunity to squeeze the plastic oinky pigs, empty the bin of sand pails and shovels and generally create a 15-minute store clean-up. Finally, it was time to lock the door and begin the final tally of the day. I counted the bills and coins, added up the discounts, separated the credit card slips by company and began to calculate the day’s net. Filling out the final report, I discovered I was $2.05 short. My trusty trainer who never, ever made an error directed me to recount the bills and coins. I came up with the same amount.  She sighed deeply, uttered something in Spanish and told me to pack it up. I had failed again. Although we left the store together, she was 10 steps ahead of me as I lagged behind balancing the cash drawer, my insulated snack bag, water bottle, handbag and flip flops.

She generously held the elevator door for me and we headed down to ground zero to stash our cash, keys and clock-out. I called out good night as my boot camp sergeant opened the passenger door of her ride home. I waited until I was flip-flop ready before beginning my hike to the near-empty parking lot clearly outside the city limits. Now I could enjoy my 40 minute drive home on that godforsaken two-lane road they call a highway and catch some sleep before starting my 10 am shift the next day.

I retraced my steps just eight hours later and tried to be a beacon of light and inspiration as I entered the dark world of retail hell. Loaded down with the cash drawer, ringlet of keys, ID cards, shoes, insulated snack sack, handbag and water bottle, I greeted my coworker for the morning, Alice, who immediately dashed out the door to use the restroom. I lined up the oinky pigs, signed into the cash register and began checking out customers who had assembled their beach provisions on the counter. Sunscreen SPF 5 (they will be back in for the Aloe Vera burn gel by 2 pm), bottled water, snack crackers, pool toys, sunglasses and maybe a pack of cigarettes was tossed into the plastic sacks. “That will be $182, sir,” I smiled. Ah, to be on vacation with an American Express Card and not a worry in the world, I thought, smirking. Wait until they get home to Michigan and open the bill.

From behind the t-shirt display, I heard a voice ask, “Did you bring the T-shirts down from storage?” I glanced past the stuffed dolphins and mermaids to see one of my mini-managers, Vera, eyeing me with her usual exasperation. “I brought them down, but I’m not sure where…” “Yes or no,” she queried. “Yes,” I replied. That verbal exchange was the beginning of the end of my day. When I missed a discount, I tried to explain to Vera what the amount was and was told, “Stop!” which was interpreted by the customer and me as “shut the f*%$ up!” “That’s ok, I don’t really need a discount,” the customer told Vera. I simply rolled my eyes. It was becoming clear to me that nothing I could do in this establishment was going to be good enough. The verbal volleys between Vera and me continued until lunch time and I had turned from aggravated to just plain angry. Since when should I be scolded like a two-year-old? In the course of the morning I had failed to arrange the t-shirts by color, left a sheaf of orders within sight of a customer, left a gaping hole in the breath mint display and said hello, instead of good morning on the telephone. Was I ever a loser! At lunch time, Vera and the head honcho manager were conferring in the back room where I needed to grab my purse. I decided to speak up. “May I have a word with you both,” I asked politely. “What is it?” head honcho wanted to know. I looked straight at Vera and said, “Why are you so rude to me?” She look surprised, then launched into this speech on how she didn’t have time for me to ramble on; complained about how long it  took me to cash out and blah, blah, blah. I finally broke in, “You know what? This is not a good fit for me. I’m done!” “You mean now? You’re quitting now?” head honcho asked incredulously. “Yup, that’s it. Good afternoon ladies.” I picked up my purse, removed my ID tag, handed over my ID cards and keys and left via the hotel’s front entrance. I never felt more satisfied in my life, or hungrier. After a 15-minute stroll to my car, I headed down the road to the 7-Eleven for a tall Bud Light and a Big Dog. It sure beat the sucky succotash in the cafeteria! I discovered later that I made gift store history. I am only the second person in 10 years to leave before the 90 day trial period concluded. Yeah, me. I am so proud!

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