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lunarsands · 1 year

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Empires SMP S1 Fanfic: The Future Foretold Ch 1

Characters: MythicalSausage, PearlescentMoon, Pixlriffs, Jimmy Solidarity, LDShadowlady, Smallishbeans, Shubble, Joey Graceffa, fWhip, GeminiTay, Scott Major, Xornoth, Katherine Elizabeth, and three special guests

Relationships: platonic MythicalSausage/PearlescentMoon, implied MythicalSausage/Scott Major

Tags: Empires SMP S1 with allusions to Afterlife SMP, and allusions to Empires SMP S2, Canon Divergent, scosage adjacent

WARNINGS: Angst, New for Part 4:, Major Character Death (it’s the end of S1 what do you expect?), Everybody Dies but also Everybody Lives

Summary: During his multiple attempts to save Pearl, Sausage ends up in the reality he and Scott created for The Wither of Mythland and The Angel of Aeor. He realizes that perhaps with their help he might be able to achieve his goal.

Sequel to The Past Unmasked, Phantom Solitude, and Glimpses of Fate

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ A/N: Hey yeah so, this got completely out of hand for a storyline that started as mild fluff about Sausage and Scott getting possessed by benevolent spirits and kissing at a masquerade ball, but here we are. | This was going to pick up where Glimpses of Fate left off anyway, but yes, the idea for this came before Sausage’s S2 episode 37, and yes, I changed the direction of it after the big lore reveal.]

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Chapter One

Pearl… No matter how many times, no matter what it takes… I will save you!

Sausage staggered through the mist permeating the reality he had just landed in, barely able to make out the shape of trees through the refracting sunlight. That last jump had been rough…

Where was he now?

His grip on the Staff of Mythland went slack and then he felt himself begin to fall forward. Well, wouldn’t be the first time in recent memory that he collapsed after reaching another world. The use of power and magic and emotions was getting to be a little taxing…

Some type of dark blur materialized in front of him and he heard a voice call out in alarm. Oh… Someone’s voice that wasn’t Pearl announcing her impending doom, how nice…

“L-Lord Sausage?!” Bony hands caught him before he hit the ground. Well, at least he was still recognizable even with the grey streaks at his temples and in his beard. And… he knew that raspy sound…

He returned to consciousness elsewhere in the forest – or maybe the mist had burned off in the growing light of day. The ground felt soft, which in itself was refreshing. He hadn’t been taking much time to sleep unless his body simply gave out on him, and then it was sleep wherever he happened to be at the time, never mind in a bed. His hand grasped at the substance beneath it – moss. Okay, that was why the ground felt cushioned.

Then he realized the hand was empty, and he sat up to look around in a panic – the Staff. Where was the Staff—

His head spun and he had to close his eyes to try to get it to stop. He couldn’t use the Staff if he couldn’t at least focus on where he was. He then heard another familiar, although sullen, voice. “He is awake. Tend to him, my love, before he tries to wander off.”

Sausage forced himself to take a deep breath. The Staff couldn’t be gone. He knew these two. One of them would have it for certain. They of all people – spirits? Beings? – knew how important it was.

“Lord Sausage— here, water.” One of the bony hands from earlier held a cup toward his mouth to help him drink. Water was dripping out of the sides of it but he was able to swallow a fair amount of it before too much leaked out.

“Th-Thank you,” he muttered, then carefully took the cup to finish the rest on his own. Not carefully enough, however; it was soft and he almost accidentally crushed it. A more attentive look at it revealed that it was made of leaves layered together and around each other.

The Wither of Mythland made an apologetic shrug with its hands. “We do not have many mortal conveniences – we have no need of them. But I attempted to gather some food for you. The animals can safely eat these, so I assume they are safe for you.”

It gestured to a nearby tree stump, which provided a flat surface to hold a small pile of what looked like sweet berries, and what was definitely a half dozen apples. He could guess that the food would be the same here as in his world; well, of course it would be, he created this one.

He didn’t know how he could have gotten here without purposely thinking of it. All he had been focused on was his reality, over and over again, jumping from one parallel world to the next. But come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten… He lurched upright to crawl over to the tree stump. Maybe that was the problem. He had become weakened simply because he needed to just stop for five minutes and eat something.

He quickly devoured half of the berries then reached for an apple, but paused when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. His hand picked up the apple of its own accord while he turned his head to look. Then he dropped it out of shock.

The Angel’s form was still indistinct but the bright golden glow was gone, replaced by a sickly greenish-gray. The regal bearing was gone as well, as he slumped forward; the movement Sausage had caught was the wing-shapes sagging while The Angel sat on a large rock. He appeared to be looking off into the forest but then his head lowered. Something was obviously wrong with him.

Sausage retrieved the apple then went back to where The Wither sat reconstructing the leaf-cup, asking softly, “What happened to him?”

The Wither looked up, then tilted its head toward The Angel. Its expression remained hidden in shadow but its eyes glittered rapidly. It replied in a quiet tone, “I will tell you after you have rested more.”

Sausage sat down to help facilitate reaching that point. “Then… can you tell me how things have been here? Is this reality holding together?”

“Things have been going well – aside from… that.” The Wither nodded once toward The Angel, to again acknowledge Sausage’s concern. “We have felt content and at peace here for… quite some time.” It wanted to refrain from saying years, having noticed that Sausage had aged – and looked the worse for it. “There have been no disruptions to this reality’s stability after we repaired the barriers.”

“So, you… haven’t had any contact with another reality, at all, at any point??”

“No,” The Wither answered, then added in a cautious tone, “You are the only mortal we have seen since we left yours.”

Sausage looked to the ground, muttering, “Of course. Why did I think she might end up here. She wasn’t there for the first spell. It was only the dream realm she entered…” He brought the apple up to his mouth to take an angry bite out of it.

“Is there something you wish to speak of, Lord Sausage?”

At the question, he paused in the midst of chewing, then slowly finished and swallowed. He contemplated a second bite, then abruptly funneled his anger into raising his arm and slamming the apple to the ground. “I – I lost Pearl! There – There was this explosion, it affected everything, everywhere, and her kingdom was on fire, and then she was on fire, and – and she was linked to her lands through some type of magic – I don’t know how that even happened, but she - she burned, and then she began to wither away – and I’ve been doing everything I can to keep going back and try to save her, but nothing has worked so far!!”

He thought he heard a choked noise from The Angel, but was too lost in the sorrow now threatening to overwhelm him. “I’ve tried stopping the explosion, I’ve tried to make sure she doesn’t handle any magical items, I’ve tried being prepared every single way possible for that moment she starts burning, I’ve tried to counteract the withering – but none of it works!”

The Wither’s head darted back and forth, glancing from him to where The Angel sat. “L-Lord Sausage, I am sorry, but please calm yourself. Lady Pearlescent was a brave warrior. I am certain she—”

“DON’T SAY ‘WAS’!! There has to still be a chance I can save her!! There has to be a way! Some spell or magic I haven’t figured out! I just have to think…”

The Wither drew back but went quiet. It knew quite well what the depths of grief could do to someone when they lost a loved one. It cast another glance toward The Angel, but the other had resumed slumping forward on the rock.

Meanwhile, Sausage began muttering again. “I just need… I just need to figure it out. Counteract the entire magical fire next time. But… the withering… I still need… She… She withered away…” His head snapped up and he lunged to grab The Wither by the front of its cloak. “You – You were able to pull out my evil self’s soul and hang onto it! C-Could you pull out hers, and keep it safe, and – and somehow we find a way to put it inside a relic, like you two were, and – and then I’ll have more time to figure out how to fix everything!”

His eyes were wild, and The Wither was startled but still silently understanding. However, within the next blink The Angel was beside them, prying Sausage’s fingers from the dark specter’s cloak. “Watch yourself, mortal. Do not lay hands on my love. I failed in my duty, but I will not suffer any harm to those left to me!”

The bright glow might have been gone, but The Angel’s touch was still warm – hot, even, and Sausage yanked his hands away, in no mood to be reminded of hot fire. “What did you fail at?! You’ve just been here, living safe from everything—”

The Angel’s wings flared wide. The Wither dove between them, grasping Sausage by the shoulders to try to convince him to back up. “I see now I should have told you right away. He – He was unable to save Lord Scott. The Champion of Exor walked freely once again, and Lord Scott saw there was only one way to stop him.”

Sausage took one step in retreat before going stock still. “But— Xornoth was sealed away. How could – But – No. Don’t tell me the explosion released him, too! But – So – What did Scott do? I – I haven’t… I haven’t…” A new wave of grief and guilt swept through him, and he mumbled, “I haven’t thought about what might have happened to the others…”

The Angel wasn’t feeling as sympathetic as The Wither and said coldly, “He used the Rune Blade on himself. His life was tied to that of the Champion of Exor, and he made a noble sacrifice to stop the evil from overtaking your entire world. I do not know where his soul is now. I could do nothing to protect him, to stop that outcome. The Champion of Exor could have been stopped another way.”

Sausage’s mind worked to fit these new pieces into his desperate puzzle. “Then… I need to find a way to save him and Pearl. But how do I find out which happened first…”

The Angel swept his wings outward with a loud rustle of feathers, then folded them in. “If I, with the power of Aeor within me, could not do anything, what makes you think you can succeed? You are already on a fruitless path. What can you do that a god cannot?”

“W-What if… What if it just takes all of our powers, together? All three of us,” Sausage rushed to explain with growing excitement. “If we can hold onto Pearl’s soul, maybe we can capture Scott’s, too!”

The Angel snorted. “And the Champion of Exor? How do you propose we stop him? The two are bound together.”

“Grab his soul, too,” Sausage chirped.

“NO.” The Angel’s voice reverberated with power. “I will not have my love touch such an accursed thing!”

The Wither gently took hold of The Angel’s arm. “I have handled souls far more evil than that before. Remember, my love, I have harvested battlefields from millennia ago. Minions of Exor fell then, too.”

The Angel turned his head aside. His wings drooped. “I do not want false hope. I have accepted my failure. Do not continue to torment me with it.”

“But,” Sausage protested, “Why not try one more time? We could even save everyone – if they’re all up against a calamity, then maybe nowhere in the world is safe, and – and I could make a whole new one for everyone, like I made this one! It – It would be easy, really! We just go from empire to empire, you use your holy power to hold back the danger, we find them wherever they’ve fallen, and just collect their souls in one trip!”

“It might not be that simple,” The Wither put in. “They will have to still be alive for me to take their soul. I am not capable of reaping a dead soul in another world with my own spirit anchored to this one.”

The Angel cut in quickly, “And we are not going to risk untethering ourselves from here for a fool’s errand.”

Sausage shot back with viciousness, “Not even to save Scott?!”

The Angel’s aura flared up. “We have no guarantee this will work, so, NO.”

It was the heat rather than the vehemence that made Sausage finally back down, but he glared resentfully at The Angel for a moment, then turned away and began muttering under his breath, constructing a plan to himself as he walked to the tree stump.

The Wither once more touched The Angel’s arm. “Please calm down. We are forever indebted to him, to Lord Scott, and to Wizard Gem. She will undoubtably be in danger, too. We should do anything we can to repay them. What greater repayment could there be than to help them to a new reality where they can also live happily?”

The Angel made a noise of annoyance. “Do not use that to ply me. They are all still only mortal, and would eventually die again anyway. Would you return to collect their souls every time they reached the end, and continue to ferry them to yet another new world?”

The Wither tilted its head up and the Angel could see the ghost of a smile. “I do like that idea. It would be far better than how I used to condemn mortals to the Plane of Souls.”

The Angel’s wings drooped. “I… could not deny you that happiness, then, my love. You deserve to make peace with what was once a curse. I will agree to this idea, but if it fails, you and I must weigh the cost of continuing his quest. It might be for the better to grant him a mercy.”

The Wither’s smile faded back into shadow. “As I have said since the day Aeor’s Champion fell, I am sorry you had to endure that failure. But I have not been able to let go of tracking Lord Sausage’s travels. His soul burns bright, second only to Lady Pearlescent’s. They are meant for something more. I cannot tell if it is meant to happen on its own, or if we are also destined to contribute. But we should aid him whether or not that is the case.”

“Very well. I trust your intuition. Yet because you will have charge of the souls, ensure this is done on your terms.”

The Wither nodded, then drifted over to Sausage. “We have agreed to assist you, but I do implore that you rest. You will need the strength and power to transport all three of us to your reality, after all.”

Sausage started patting himself down, then looked at The Wither. “That, um, reminds me – one of you has the Staff of Mythland, right?”

The Wither nodded once, then drew the Staff from its cloak. “Yes. I will return it after you have rested.”

“Giving me no choice, I see.” Sausage gave a faint smile. The expression felt foreign and he let it fade. He sat beside the tree stump and ate more of the berries. He then returned to the mossy area to lay down, although it took a while to fall asleep, his mind too active planning out a path around the empires for the most efficient way of visiting each of the rulers before their final fate. The one thought that kept coming back to him was whether to rescue Scott second, or last, in order to placate The Angel.

Obviously, Pearl would be number one, and would always be first if they needed to take another run at it.

~*~

The first jump back was a test. In that regard Sausage agreed, especially when he was left feeling slightly disoriented when they arrived not at the edge of Gilded Helianthia, but in his bedroom. It made sense, as that was the last place the two spirits had been in that world. He had been in a thankfully dreamless sleep at the time; it was Scott who sent them back to their reality from there.

The Angel leapt through the window in a blur, circling around once before flapping his wings to hover just outside of it. “I will locate the others. I can do so more quickly alone. I will return the moment I know all of them. Prepare any other magicks you might need. Do not begin until I have returned. We might have need to do this more strategically despite your considerations.” He was indicating Sausage’s thoughts on which direction to start in, a plan he had shared right after his restless nap.

Sausage nodded, but The Angel was already gone, so he hurried off on his own search with The Wither in tow. Into the treasury Sausage went, looking for any artifacts he had that might contain a gemstone of some sort, tossing them into a shulker box as he went. By his logic, that would serve best for temporarily containing the souls until he found a better solution. Then it was a matter of acquiring a spell to get the souls into them. The library was his next stop. If not there, then it was off to Gem’s for the spell she used on Xornoth.

The Wither attempted to help him. “That one will do. That one. Not that, the gemstone is fake. That one. Oh, absolutely not – there is something in there already. Yes, that other one, too. This one is fine. That—” It gave pause. Sausage was reaching for the Nether star pendant. “That… will still work, yes, but perhaps leave it as an extra if something else fails.”

Sausage nodded in understanding. “Kind of running out of options, here. We need at least eleven.”

“You… are counting Xornoth, then?”

“Just in case. If The Angel is against it that much, we could at least trap him and bury him where no one can ever find him ever again.”

“That seems painful in equal measure. If you recall, Lord Scott claimed he found my love’s medallion in a forgotten place.”

“Oh. Um, right. Then… just as a backup plan. We can figure it out once everyone is safe.” Sausage counted up the artifacts again. “Three short if we leave out the star. We could raid someone else’s treasury. Maybe… Maybe we put Gem in her staff. Joel always has his crown on, those have to be real gemstones, knowing him. And Joey has one too – no, no that one won’t work. That was – that was tainted by Xornoth.” He gave one last look around, finding a dagger with a jeweled hilt that the Wither nodded at, then it was off to the library.

Soon books were littering the floor, but the mess was the least of Sausage’s worries. This reality would be reset, anyway, when they jumped to an earlier time to kick off their soul collecting spree. The thing that did concern him was the number of whispers from the growing amount of Blood Sheep outside, but he shut it out as best he could. Surely The Angel would return any minute.

Having exhausted the spellbooks he knew the immediate location of, he turned to the dusty, hidden bookcase where he had first found mention of The Wither. There might have been more about the spell used to trap it, but he also began to worry that what they needed would instead be in some elven spellbook somewhere, and Rivendell was literally the last place he wanted to go right now.

The Wither was having no luck, either. “We may have to consult Wizard Gem. I am certain she will understand if we explain everything.”

“Will we have time for that? fWhip was with her. I don’t want to have to waste time explaining it all from the beginning to him.”

“Are you not planning to explain to anyone?”

Sausage paused, then began flipping through the ancient tomes with less care. “No. That will take too long. We can’t waste a single second. This has taken me long enough already.” His motions verged on frantic, and then the book he was holding came apart in his hands. The cover hit the ground in a cloud of dust. Sausage coughed as it puffed up close to his face when he knelt to try to recover some of the pages. What if that had been the one?

Just then he heard the rustle of feathers and looked out from the alcove to see The Angel enter through a window. He looked… brighter, with some of his golden color returned. “I found all but one. This… Pixandria. The desert is vast. The villagers were scattered but I saw nothing of their ruler.”

Sausage frowned. Pixandria was already out of the way, furthest from all the other empires, but he had been thinking they could start there after Pearl. “We’ll need to jump back in time anyway at this point, so we could all go look for him, then search Gem’s place for the spell.”

“I might be able to locate him if he is already dead,” The Wither offered. “I cannot claim these dead, but I can still sense them.”

Sausage left the remains of the book on the floor then stepped out to see The Wither standing with a hand against an approximation of The Angel’s cheek, then he heard it say quietly, “You look better. You… tarried, didn’t you?”

“I could not resist, I confess. There was still no chance of stopping it, but I was able to reassure him with my presence.”

Sausage now scowled as he approached them. He’d had a feeling The Angel going out alone would end up with him trying to intervene with Scott. “Why did you waste the time when you know we’re going to save him anyway?”

“You still assume this will work. I granted him a measure of solace and hope, and needed to soothe my own soul. Perhaps you will learn the importance of that before you burn your own out.”

The Wither stepped between them again. “No arguments. What is done, is done. We will go to Pixandria now. You may both walk the shadows with me. It will make up the time and avoid overuse of the jumps.” It clasped The Angel’s hand tightly, then held out its other toward Sausage. “Close your eyes. Mortals are not meant to see between this veil.”

Sausage shut his eyes and held his own hand out. The Wither took it, and then incomprehensible darkness and silence engulfed the Mythlandian’s senses. He didn’t relax until he felt the warmth of Pixandria’s dry climate, and even then he waited for The Wither to release his hand. Where he expected to see the city – perhaps even symbolically, The Vigil – he saw instead the mound of the great Ant Hill, a structure he had never quite felt the need to ask Pix about.

But The Wither drifted toward one of the ground-level tunnel openings. “Here. He is… somewhere within. Not very far. Allow me another minute.”

Sausage jogged past it to begin his own search. Ducking inside, he immediately saw that parts of the interconnected tunnels had collapsed; the city was not so far away to go unaffected by events, after all. “Piii—” he began to shout, but then remembered The Wither had confirmed that the Copper King was already dead. It was, indeed, Pix’s crown that Sausage ran his foot into as he came to an intersection with rubble spilling out of two adjacent tunnels. And there was Pix’s arm sticking out from the bottom, a half-buried trident not far from his hand.

Now face-to-face with the actuality of the other ruler’s fates, Sausage could only stare for a moment, then shakily called out, “I – I found him!” He went back to staring. Had… Had anyone survived? He was reluctant to ask The Angel what condition he had found the others in. Was he himself the only one to escape alive?

It was The Wither touching his shoulder that brought him out of his mournful daze. “We have located them all. Now to Wizard Gem, to obtain the spell. Hope is closer at hand.”

Sausage nodded but glanced backward one more time as they headed outside. “Sorry, Pix. I’ll be back. I promise.”

~*~

There was no sign of Gem or fWhip – or Violet, or the other dragons for that matter, anywhere around the slightly smoking Crystal Cliffs. Sausage took that as a sign to just tear through as many of her belongings as possible for any spellbooks that might have been left behind. However, he was stopped from entering the top room of her tower by a gray cat who meowed at him scoldingly. He couldn’t remember the cat’s name.

“What do you mean, I shall not pass? I don’t have time to explain! I need the spell Gem used to seal Xornoth! You have to believe me when I say it is extremely important and I have no time left to waste!”

The cat meowed once, then turned and pranced over to a bookcase. It began to paw at one of the books. Sausage hurried over and pulled it out by the spine, then quickly flipped through it. His eyes widened as he skimmed Gem’s handwriting and found mention of Xornoth, then flipped a few more pages and found the magic circle layout she had come up with. “This is it! Thank you! I promise you, I will take good care of Gem, and everyone else!”

The cat flicked its tail in response but gave neither a purr nor a meow. Yet Sausage was already off, running down the stairs and excitedly yelling, “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! Back we go!!”

[Chapter Two]

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #empires smp s1 #MythicalSausage #pearlescentmoon #well the whole cast of S1 really #but they're the central focus #scosage adjacent #witherangel #the past unmasked saga #lunar yarns #empiressmp #evil!mythicalsausage

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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 2 years

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hii i just finished reading all of your monsterfucker fic and it was so nice(for lack of a better word) and i loved it. i read almost all your fics and i think youre an excellent writer! i was wondering something while reading this fic, and not to get too deep with some pwp, but do you think the fact that mermaid buck fares fine during the tsunami or that angel buck saves eddie in war, it indicates that in your story, had they been human, they wouldnt have survived the disasters they did in canon? did you ever consider giving buck 6 wings?

on the other hand, i liked how you made vampires be weak to running water in further than blood i thought it was a really nice touch

sorry for rambling in your ask but i wanted to know i really appreciate your writing and will eventually end up reading all of them 💕💕

@mistmarauder you're not the only one who wants Buck to have more than two wings!

I did in fact consider giving him six wings but chose not to for three reasons. The first is sex logistics. I'm a masochist but not enough to make myself try and write a sex scene that involves six wings you gotta deal with. The second is that Buck is slowly falling as is hinted at throughout the fic and implied at the very end - his powers and angelic nature are diminishing the longer he stays human and the greater his love to be with Eddie and the rest of the 118 grows. When Buck says he wants to "grow a soul" so he can be human like Eddie, that's precisely what he's doing. So the fact he only has two wings now is part of that - he's slowly falling and he's not at the height of his angelic powers anymore. The third is that in putting Buck in human form as punishment and having him cut off from Heaven, he can't fully manifest his angelic form, hence the limit on wings.

In the mermaid!Buck fic, Buck still would have survived the tsunami, but being a mermaid made it a lot easier for him to survive and to save others - I imagined he'd been able to save more people than in canon since he could breathe underwater and swim faster and with more power. A mermaid is still at the end of the day as vulnerable to a big ocean wave as, say, a fish or a dolphin. So he wouldn't be entirely unscathed but he'd have a better time of it.

In the angel!Buck fic, the implication is that yes, Eddie and his entire unit would have died in the helicopter crash had Buck not defied orders and saved Eddie (who in turn saved most of his unit).

There is no such thing as "too deep" on my monsterfucking fics! I love mythology and creature lore and I put a lot of thought into those fics even if they are 90% about kinky sex, and I'm happy to talk about that lore! It delights me when readers notice and care about the worldbuilding.

Aha thank you, I'm glad you liked the running water bit! I didn't make that up, but took it from vampire lore - Dracula for example is vulnerable to running water and can only cross the ocean while in a coffin filled with earth from his homeland. While on a boat he's fairly weak and has to be careful. Other vampire stories have made use of this, but it's not a commonly known vampire weakness so I had a lot of fun surprising people with it in the fic. It was a delightful convenience that two of the traumatic life-endangering things that happen to Buck and Eddie have to do with running water so I could use this!

Thank you again for reading and I'm so glad that you enjoyed these stories so much!

#mads answers things #I have such sweet nonnies

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oveliagirlhaditright · 2 years

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The Buffy novel "The Book of Fours" was terrific. I really loved getting to learn about the Slayer before Buffy, India, through her diary entries and whatnot.

She reminds me of Buffy quite a bit (which I think was the point), but not enough to be a carbon copy of her or anything like that (India was a tomboy and Buffy is definitely a girly-girl, for instance. She was also from the Philippines originally and an army brat, who had to travel the world a lot for that reason, etc.). But some of the issues that India had with her mom reminded me of some of the Buffy and Joyce stuff. And Buffy's deep love for her Watcher Kit (who she sacrificed herself for, and that's how she died) reminded me of Buffy's love for Angel some. And in some sort of AU, I could have seen that being the way Buffy died too, or something.

I also found it funny that at first when Faith was reading India's diaries, she said, "I like this girl. She has balls." But then she read a bit more (after India thought her mom didn't want her, that her dad couldn't stay with her because of his work, and that Kit didn't love her), and was like, "Okay, I can't read any more. Whiny, much?" And it's like, "Sheesh, Faith. Make up your mind." I also feel like S3 Faith thinking that last bit is a little bit like the pot calling the kettle black.

The whole plot about each Slayer corresponding with a different one of the four elements... and there being these mummies with these axes that tied into each element, too (and could also summon earth, wind, fire, and water), and if they sliced their matching Slayer with the axe would automatically kill her that way, was also really, really cool? Like, holy crap, I wish we'd gotten this whole thing in the show. (The mummies were actually the underlings of a higher power). For those curious, India was the Slayer of Water, Buffy was the Slayer of Air, Kendra was the Slayer of Earth, and Faith was the Slayer of Fire. And someone please give me some Avatar: The Last Airbender AU with this now. LOL

As I said in another post (as this was the prologue, so this solution gets spoiled for you way before you get to the end), I also really adored having all four Slayers fight this threat together: Buffy and Faith, of course, who are still alive, but Kendra and India through temporarily possessing Cordelia and Willow. I thought that whole thing was really clever. This whole ending was, really.

I also enjoyed the stuff with Lucy Hanover (who's a Slayer ghost in some of these books, who I should probably make a whole different post about), as well as Micaela from "The Ghost Roads" trilogy making an appearance again. I honestly wasn't expecting the latter, but I appreciated it. I didn't think her appearance was overdone or undid her trying to make amends at the end of that trilogy, which is good.

Willow almost dying because of a car accident Joyce got into was nuts...

And the Bangel in this book, as always, is wonderful.

And it's just great to have Faith here, because I honestly wish she was in more of these books that take place during season three.

As much as I love Nancy Holder's Buffy books (and I really, really do), there are times where I'm begging to feel where things are getting a tiny bit too removed from BtVS (like, there's a part of me that doesn't really believe elements of them would have ever actually happened in the show. But when I shut that part of me up, I'm like, "Oh my gosh, this is so awesome!"), and think that some of these ideas might have been better off as their own original series (because it's like she's starting to add lore and stuff that wasn't in the show. And part of me loves this, because the stuff she adds actually fits really well and is amazing and intriguing! But since it wasn't in the show, of course, you know it's not canon. But at the same time, these books were okayed by the show writers before they were published, so maybe it makes it like second tier canon, at best, so it all gets a bit confusing if you think about it too hard. I guess the key is to not get hung up on these details, and to just try and enjoy these stories for what they are). But for the most part, I didn't really feel that way with this book.

It's a really solid, epic novel, that I really kind of wish had been part of the show. And had parts that were even better than some of said show, honestly.

Edit: It's also interesting that we now have had two Watcher/Slayer relationships in the Buffy books I've read so far. And they've given us the rule that Watchers and Slayers really aren't supposed to fall for each other (I don't think the show ever said that, though it makes so much sense, but I could be wrong about the series never having mentioned it). Meanwhile, right now in Boom, in that one AU where Fred's a Slayer, she and Wesley are together and no one's mentioned it being frowned upon. Huh...

Edit 2: This book also makes me wish the show had given us more of Faith being good/trying to be good before her villainous turn in season three. Because she has that whole speech about, "...So I slay, I behave, I do the perfect good little girl routine?" But maybe it's just me, but I feel like we didn't really see that? Or at least not as much as we should have. Especially since season three randomly has so many episodes without Faith with no explanation as to why she isn't there or what she's doing. So having her save the world from another apocalypse here helps me buy her anger in that scene more when she says that: "So I slay, I behave, I do the perfect good little girl routine. And who does everybody thank? Buffy."

Edit 3: Oh! And getting more Kendra stuff was *chef's kiss* as I mentioned in my other post:)

#long post #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy tie-in books #buffy book #the book of fours

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hangezoeenthusiast · 3 years

Text

God(hcs)

c!multiple x god!reader

notes: the reader will be the god of death to make it a little bit more spicy :). c!punz’s pronouns are he/they, i’m not sure about the others, but i know theirs. also why does ranboo take away my gender? /j

word count: 1,672

warnings: arson, violence, cursing, yelling, mention of death, voices in technos part, spoilers for wilbur if you haven’t watch tommy’s lore stream, revival for wilbur, making a religion, time travel, egg, prison, stealing, anarchy, playful name calling

Sapnap

so obviously y’all would be a great match :)

you have creative mode, so when sap would ask you to give him a lighter and tnt, you would GLADLY give it

also, can we talk about him being a nether hybrid

fire squared

like fires left and right, hide your mom and your children in your house lol /j

but besides the whole arson thing, you favor him above anyone else on the server

like if he asks for diamond blocks, well here’s a whole inventory of it, also, here’s some ancient debris and some netherite

if someone asked, you would probably grant them with poison and curses, just because you can’t be “unloyal” to snapchat

wouldn’t be lonely anymore

Dreamwastaken

this duo is less chaotic, but chaotic enough where people avoid you

he still asks you for stuff, but most of the time, you don’t give him it because he annoys you too much about giving stuff

“hey y/n/n, can i pretty please get some emerald blocks.”

“nope bitch, get it yourself.”

but sometimes, you grant him some op shit, when it’s your good day

“because i’m being nice, here’s some diamond, now, don’t ask me again you little piss baby.”

“shut your trap y/n.”

“or what homeless teletubby, what are you going to do to a god like me?”

“you hang out with technoblade to much.”

Georgenotfound

maybe the least chaotic duo

you guys keep on relaxing and relaxing until the point where you don’t do anything

he barely asks you for anything, but only when it’s really really important, like a house or build

especially when he was building his little cottagecore house, he needed your godly presence to help

“y/n, what should the roof be made of?”

“i suggest brick, it makes it more aestheticy if that makes any sense.”

also barely any drama or tea with you guys

never arguing and never betraying each other is a must

Tubbo

also another least chaotic duo

literally help him with his bee farm, he will (platonically) love you forever

gotta be close to ranboo, that’s the rule

gives him SO much stuff, he’s a precious boi 🙄

also gotta be close to tommy, but not as much unfortunately

you help him pick out things for builds, like what material clashes with another, etc

“do you think that the wool and the netherite blocks look good together y/n?”

“nah, what i suggest is the wool with the gold, it looks perfect.”

sometiems, gotta put him in check because he gets a little ego built up

you definitely yank his horn a little too hard because of your IMMENSE STRENGTH

“OW, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT Y/N.”

“calm down sunny, you were just getting a bit over your head a little.”

Tommyinnit

chaotic duo like sapnap

snaps at anyone who annoys you and vice versa

you give him EVERYTHING, obviously except op and creative

he tries to persuade you to do something, but dreamxd wouldn’t allow it, since he is the main boss

“come on y/n, give me op.”

“no tommy, xd will kick my ass.”

“pweaseee.”

“no.”

you would DEFINITELY help him with the Big Innit Hotel, making the whole layout and color palette.

both of you have an intense hatred for ranboo, since he “stole” tubbo away from tommy

Ranboo

least involved in everything

just stay in the tundra and drink some tea, and you’re good for all of your life

helps him get netherite all the time so your boii can get the good stuff 😬

when he mines to get diamonds, he literally prays to you

“y/n, if you’re listening, please give me a 6 vein, i desperately need it for my collection of diamond blocks.”

and THERE IT IS

more than a 6 vein actually, a 12 vein

guess he needs to pray to you more

daily tea sessions, to talk about the good stuff, and NO, and i repeat NO skipping

threatening to flick water on him check ✅

Wilbur Soot

literally you spoil him

not to be angsty, but when he died and lost his last canon life, you revived him instead of Dream

now he’s practically at your knees

like he’s thinks that he owes you, but actually that’s the opposite

he was revived because you were lonely, and wanted your best friend back :(

prays to you when he goes to bed

“hey y/n, hope you’re having a great day, (platonically) love you.”

“love you too mortal.”

sometimes, to be at the peak of godness, you shower upon wilbur as gold to symbolize blessings, like zeus did before

“omg y/n, what are you doing?”

“i’m trying to bless you, shut up bitch.”

just saying, he would make a religion about you :/

Karl Jacobs

omg don’t get me started on this

first, you wouldn’t codone him going back in time

he would definitely forget your name a lot, so that’s why you hated it

“hey karl, how are you doing?”

“i’m sorry, but do i know you?”

ANGST IS TOO MUCH FOR ME

you were definitely the one to push him towards sapnap and quackity

this is also another spoiled boi

give him the entire world while you’re at it pwease

he wants a few diamonds, nope, give him a chest full of them

Quackity

why are there so much chaotic duos in here?

literally chaos times infinity

energy to the max

literally, did you take an energy drink

grants him every wish he can randomly think off

“can i get a bucket with lava and a fish in it?”

“weird choice, but ok man.”

gotta be close to sap and karl or he isn’t your friend anymore /j

helps with las nevadas a lot, and definitely tries to rig the machines so you get money

“hey big q, i got 10,000 dollars.”

“that’s impossible... y/n, did you cheat?”

“nooo 😊”

help him preen his wings, and he goes “I LOVE YOU, MWAH MWAH.” obviously in his mind 🙄

Awesamdude

definitely helps him maintain the prison

you both love setting up red stone contraptions and pistons and all that giz

“hey sam, do you know where the redstone torches are?”

“yeah, there behind the pistons in the back.”

also you helped build the prison, since he could do that by himself

“are you sure that lava wall will work y/n, your calculations seem inaccurate.”

“i’m sure sam, this will add some more security to this goddamn server.”

nerd squared lol

BadBoyHalo

wouldn’t condone the egg

you warned him multiple times to get away from its grasp, but most of the times he’ll decline

“i won’t y/n, the egg is the future.”

he still, even after all the advancements, even after everything, he tries to ask you to join the eggpire

“come on y/n, you’ll like being with us.”

“i don’t wanna be on a stupid egg side, like let me crack the egg, i wanna eat it and turn it into a omelette.”

he doesn’t like that joke :(

but before he discovered the egg, both of you were joint at the hip

sight seeing was a must

languages being thrown around everywhere, since you were the little language muffin

Punz

steals stuff from everyone

hide your stuff, because the punzo-y/n team is unstoppable

definitely they can be really stubborn and indecisive

like one day, he will be like, “i need gold blocks.” and the next, “nevermind, i need netherite actually.”

like hon, stop switching

also anarchy buddies

burning down forests and buildings are your guys’s specialty

when you give him gold when they doesn’t ask, his heart goes brrr and his brain goes, “pog pog, they’re so cool, lets hug them.”

Technoblade

now this is the most deadly duo in the entire Dream Smp

better not piss you guys off 😐

he’s the Blood God, and you’re the God/Goddess/God being of Death

so if some occasion where you need to battle someone, like Techno’s enemies, *clears throat and murmurs Quackity*, you will obviously back your boy up :)

help him with enchanting and potions and he’s set for life

also you got have to be close to the great Philza Minecraft since him and Techno are buddy buddy

anarchy squared

helps with the voices since you have some of your own

“so what you’re saying is that i need to pay attention to them?”

“yeah, when i first learned that the voices were in my head, i tried to ignore them, but that sucked. so what i did was try to distract myself with various tasks, and that sucked.”

“so what do i do, you’re saying that i should listen to them, but how do i do that when they literally shout at me.”

“just embrace it, obviously when they do their little chant of blood for the blood god, you have to ignore them.”

“you suck at advice.”

Philza Minecraft

so since both of you resemble death, him being the Angel of Death and you being the God/Goddess/God being of Death, y’all are fucking best friends, platonic soulmates if you will

death squared

watch out, because if you piss them off, prepare to d-

gotta be close to Ranboo and Techno, and obviously others who he platonically likes

he doesn’t need to ask you for stuff, he’s the fricking Angel of Death, but he will ask you to preen his wings :D

“ow, not there y/n.”

“oh shut up grandpa, let me do it.”

“I’M NOT OLD DUMBASS.”

Dream XD

two gods at once, damn there is so much chaos

left and right, you guys are noticed by everyone, like purrrr

y’all would be in some fancy shit, to show your power

you would get jealous of him hanging out with george

“why are you jealous y/n?”

“you’re hanging out with george to much, hang out with me please :(.”

gifts are a must, even though both of you have access to creative

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byronictrash · 3 years

Text

so I was thinking about the whole hbo supernatural thing and all I could think was how it would fit in my major spn interpretation which is TRANSFEM SAM WINCHESTER!!!!

• changed her name to samantha for pure praticity

• is a lesbian, so all the romantic part is pretty similar to the canon, monsterfucking and all

• in which dean got a little confused about the distinction of gender ≠ sexuality at first like “wait but why did you become a girl if you like girls?” (he doesn’t know a lot of queer people, give him some time)

• AND SPEAKING OF DEAN! the biggest ally of all times. at first he doesn’t understand lots of stuff that seems obvious to sam (“why are you putting on a suit?” “dean we’re going to a small town, the case will be way harder if everyone is staring at me”), asks indiscrety questions (“can i ask you something?” “it depends” “you wanna chop your dick off?” “NO YOU CANT ASK IT”) but over time he starts to get it more naturally

• despite his numerous hook-ups, dean has never spent so much time in his life in a company of a woman so even the smallest things are extraterrestrial to him (“hey whats that bowl in the microwave?” “depilatory wax” “OH CMON SAMMY I WAS GOING TO HEAT UP MY DINNER THERE”)

• of course, there would be a scene where they met some hunter friend of john who says shit about sam, misgender her etc and dean goes FERAL, fist fighting with the guy and stuff. later sam yells at dean, saying she doesn't need dean to protect her and the argument would escalate to all the times that dean treated her in a condescending way, dean yelling back that dad said it was his job to take care of her and sam yelling even louder that dad would probably dead by now (in this moment all the lamps in their room (and in the street) simply explode, but they ignore. it was probably some short circuit…. right?)

• ok lets talk about john. still the same asshole, still gave a gun to kid who was afraid of the boogeyman, still tried to summon azazel when his son was in comma in 02X01 BUT now he also has a whole series of microaggressions with sam. she’s not stupid, she know the dad she has so doesn’t come out until she’s in stanford, SO john finds out sam is trans in 01X16 when john see sam after two years wearing a skirt and holding a .45 gun. he looks at her up and down and doesn’t say anything however, suddenly stops calling sam sam and starts calling her strictly samuel.

• it got worse after s1 season finale with the whole azazel possessed john > sam had the opportunity of killing azazel/her dad > couldn’t do it > azazel escaped > the winchesters get hit by a truck. when sam questions her father about being worried about the colt while his own son is dying, john explodes with her “you know samuel this is all your fault, once again you couldn’t just man up and pull the fucking trigger, kill the thing, you had to be same old sissy and chicken off, if your brother dies its his blood in your hands”

• aaaaaanyway, lets go back to our girl :D

• her style is kinda a mess. makeup done in a hurry, most of her clothes are mid skirts, hoodies and long dresses but now and then she spends a week wearing baggy jeans and band t-shirts, like dean’s, and no makeup at all. when he asks her “where is the whole angry teen outfit?” sam would simply respond its “because of the praticity, it’s tough to fight with a vampire in a dress lol” dean knows its because sometimes sam’s internalized transphobia ft repression gets loud

• her music taste is mostly grunge, punk and some alt bands she discover in stanford but dean call all of it emo “oh fuck off sammy, i let you drive once and you already put this emo shit” “dean this is literally nirvana, you cant call everything made after the 80’s emo”

• when she came out to bobby his reaction was literally “so now you’re a girl?” “uh… yeah” “gonna change your name or something?” “now is samantha but sam is still fine” “okay, now look this sigil... (and went back to the lore they were searching)”

• sam’s catholicism being more portrained on screen and how the dilemma of being a Christian and queer filled sam with religious guilty

• her paranormal powers also showed up sooner and since the beginning she knew something was wrong. her throat felt sore every time she recited the rituale romanus and holy water made her skin itchy. the older she got, the harder those “symptoms” became and with her denial, desire to be normal combined with religious guilt, it was easier to just convince herself that all this was just god punishing her for living in sin.

• surprisingly, all the demons and angels (and most of the monsters) even being assholes treats sam with the right pronouns

• which make sam and cas fist encounter even more interesting because cas literally turns to dean and go “is this your sister, samantha winchester?” “yeah” “ABOMINATION”’

• samruby second (cause the real first was ruby killing the seven deadly sins and stuff) encounter on the other side was a little more like "why are you following me?” “because youre tall and tall women are sexy as fuck” (then sam’s brain was short circuited for a sec because her height make usually makes her dysphoric)

• between s3-s4, dean still in hell, there would be a scene of one of the first times that sam drank blood to exorcise a demon with her mind. so here they are, demon tied in a chair and trapped in a trap, sam with blood all over her chin and ruby looking at her all heart eyes. Sam tries to do the exorcism but it doesnt work so ruby says sam needs more blood. Sam responds that shes nauseous and if takes any more shes gonna puke (cause you know voluntary vampirism came too natural in canon and that disturbs me) so the demon, who's wearing a cheerleader as a vessel, laughs and says "you know sammy, for real women blood tends to be a natural thing". ruby kills her on the spot.

• speaking of the catholicism (and the blood drinking) again, sam prays every single time before/after drinking demon blood, ruby mocks her for it but she doesnt care. its a weird feeling because even thinking that what shes doing is right, that she needs to get strong to kill lilith, it still feels bad, unholy in some sense.

• of course lucifer tempted her in s5 not only appearing as jess but also saying things like "why samantha, after all, are you willing to sacrifice yourself for a society that treats you like scum, that looks at you like a freak?"

• no need to say that in 05x04 "The End" episode when dean faces lucifer using sam as his vessel, she's wearing an outfit way cooler than that abbey-road-john-lennon-white-suit (to know what i mean search amanda seyfried 2018 met gala look THATS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!!!!!)

• even after being clean of blood drinking, sam still has some of her paranormal powers. she can't do exorcises with her mind anymore but she can move small objects with telekinesis (she doesn't do it in front of dean cause she knows it would scares the fuck out of him)

i also had a list of some episodes rewritten in this au but this list is already long, guess i'll post later

#daaaaaaamn i have so many feelings about this #hbo supernatural #trans sam winchester #supernatural #samruby #transfem sam #lesbian sam winchester #kripke era #yeah im projecting #headcanon #mine

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samsexualdeancurious · 2 years

Text

Not a Duet But a Holy Trio | Chapter Two

Pairing: Wincest, Wincest/Reader

Total Words: 2,607

Summary: When Sam finally arrives in Heaven for the last time, he discovers that, somehow, he has TWO soulmates - his older brother and a complete stranger.

Warnings: Reader Death, Canonical Major Character Death(s), WINCEST, eventual threesome smut (vaginal sex, anal sex, probably some oral, I’ll try and update this as we go), some made up lore shit for plot reasons. If the SPN writers can do it, so can I xD

Header editing by me.

---

You’re not sure how long it is before Sam comes back - months, at least. However long it is, it’s plenty long enough for you to spend way more time than is healthy thinking over the strange woman’s - angel? Reaper? - words to you.

Soulmate.

Is that why you and Sam apparently share a heaven? That would make sense, since soulmates would probably want to be together even in the afterlife. But up until that day on the lakeshore, you’d never even met Sam.

Right?

You're starting to doubt your own memories. Maybe you did meet him once? But the name doesn’t sound at all familiar, so he can’t be anyone you’ve dated or even been friends with. Maybe he was a classmate during school? Not college, but potentially high school or even further back. From what little Sam told you of his childhood, he moved so many times in his first eighteen years that he can’t even really remember how many places he’s lived. It’s entirely possible that you shared a class with him at some point in time, or at least went to the same school.

But that doesn’t seem like nearly enough contact for soulmates. Soulmates should be, like, married, right? Or at least life partners of some kind. They should be in each other’s lives for an extended period of time, not for however long it takes before one person’s dad moves them on to a new place.

God, this is so confusing.

Even more confusing is that when Sam reappears, exactly in the same spot as before, he doesn’t remember you at all. The hurt and disappointment in your eyes and softly spoken “oh” seems to rip right through him, though, and the wounded puppy dog expression he makes is absolutely heartbreaking.

You only get to spend about fifteen minutes with him, though, before the same dark-haired woman from before arrives to take him away.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

Time passes. Days, months, years. The days and nights blur together and you find yourself spending less and less time outside of the cabin. You can see the lake through the windows, the sun shining on clear blue waters, but it’s lost its appeal.

Heaven really doesn’t feel like Heaven.

Logically, you know Sam is going to have to come back at some point. Everyone dies, after all. But knowing that and waiting for his return are two very different things. The cabin feels impossibly lonely the more time passes, and you’ve taken to playing music or TV reruns just to fill the space with something. It’s not quite what you need, though.

Being alone also gives you a lot of time to think about the soulmate thing and how inexplicably attached to Sam you became in such a short amount of time. You barely met the man and yet having him gone feels like a huge part of you is missing. What’s even stranger, though, is that you didn’t even realize it was missing until you met him. His presence filled a space you weren’t aware existed.

Yeah. You’re a disaster now. Great. That’s awesome. Not pathetic at all.

You’re sprawled on the couch when he arrives, staring blankly at Criminal Minds reruns like you have been all morning when there’s a knock at the door. You snap upright to stare at the door, trying to decide if you imagined it or if the sound was real. When whoever it is knocks again, you leap to your feet and run across the room. You’re dressed in leggings and an oversized Stanford t-shirt you stole from Sam’s room after he left. You’d expected all the items to disappear but for some reason they haven’t, and now you’ve incorporated most of his stuff into your own wardrobe. It’s definitely a look, but you’re alone. There’s no one to care what you look like.

Until now.

You fling open the door and freeze in your tracks. Instead of the front porch and the lake beyond, instead of the man you were hoping to see before you stands a tall - though not as tall as Sam - man in a worn black band-tee with the sleeves cut off and a mullet that sweeps over his shoulders. Behind him, you can see the warm but dimly lit wooden walls, floor, and furniture of a bar.

“Sup,” he says with a little jerk of his head. “I’m Ash, and by the looks of it-” he peers around the inside of the cabin behind you- “I think I landed in the wrong Heaven. But for you, chiquita, I’ll take the happy mistake.” His tone is all tongue in cheek and there’s an easy confidence in his eyes and painted on his smirk.

“Uhm, who’s Heaven are you looking for?” you ask right as a gorgeous, dark-haired woman comes into view behind him, beer bottle swinging from her fingertips.

“Think ya got the wrong Heaven, genius,” she says with a soft laugh. “Sorry to bother ya, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Ash says, reaching to close the door.

You catch it, stopping him. “Who’s heaven are you looking for?” you ask insistently.

They exchange a quick look and then the woman says, “Sam and Dean Winchester.”

“Sam and Dean? As in Sam’s brother Dean?” You glance between them, confused.

Ash stares at you. “Hold on, you know the Winchesters?”

“Sam’s my soulmate,” you explain. “But I don’t know Dean.”

“Fuck. Okay. That complicates things.” He holds out a hand to shake. “I’m Ash, that’s Pam, and we were the Winchesters’ friends when we were alive.”

“We’re still their friends,” Pam chuckles with an eye roll. “Just dead friends. Come in, we don’t bite. Clearly we have a lot to talk about.”

You glance behind you at your living room, TV now playing an infomercial about a really fancy set of pans because of course you can’t escape ads, even in Heaven.

“You’ll be able to go back,” Pam assures you.

Well. At least it’s something new, right?

You step over the threshold.

The bar is cozy, with its polished wood and warm lighting. Pam - Pamela Barnes, a psychic - has set the jukebox to play something you don’t recognize but find pleasant. Ash finds you a soda to drink from somewhere behind the bar and soon you’re seated comfortably in a corner booth with them while they explain what they know.

Heaven, according to Ash, is kind of like Disney World. There are Ash-land and Pamela-land and, apparently, Winchester+Collins-land. Basically, everyone has their own individual Heaven made up of their best memories. Personally, as someone who lives alone in what’s supposed to be a shared Heaven, you think being alone in one forever sounds more like Hell than Heaven. Maybe other people’s Heaven’s are populated with facades of loved ones? Though that doesn’t sound much better. You’d rather be alone than surrounded by fake loved ones.

Then again, you know they’re fake. Maybe no one else does.

“I’ve heard of shared Heavens,” Ash explains. “Soulmates... But three in one? That’s new. Wouldn’t expect anythin’ less from the Winchesters, though. They’re always defyin’ expectations.”

“Three of us,” you murmur, more to yourself than either of your new… friends, you suppose. Acquaintances is probably more appropriate, but hey. You’re desperate. “I haven’t met Dean, though.”

“You didn’t meet him when they were just here?” Pamela’s brows lift in surprise and your stomach twists.

“They were here? In Heaven?” Sam was so close. Why didn’t you see them?

“See, that’s what I was investigatin’,” Ash explains. “And my theory was right. One of those douchebag angels was manipulating the boys’ Heaven for their own purposes. Otherwise, they would’ve been with Y/N in that sweet lil cabin you’ve got set up for yourself. Nice place.”

“Thanks. Angels were manipulating them? Why would they do that?”

Ash shrugs, flinging his arms out to rest along the back of the booth seat. “Apparently they’re the ‘chosen vessels’ or some shit for Michael and Lucifer. I don’t know how but those boys of yours have got themselves mixed up in some pretty nasty business but I’m sure they’ll sort it out.”

“They’re not really my boys,” you say softly. “I only know Sam, but we only met twice and he didn’t remember me the second time.”

“Shit,” Pam murmurs as she reaches over to lay a hand on yours.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. That’s some bullshit right there. Fuckin’ angels, always messin’ with things they shouldn’t be messin’ with.” Ash looks annoyed as he speaks, like he’s been dealing with this kind of thing for longer than anyone should, and he polishes off the rest of his PBR before continuing. “With these angel boys, it’s all about destiny and shit, no consideration for the little people. Demons are the same way but that makes some kinda sense since they’re, ya know, demons.”

You can’t help a small laugh at that. “I just keep reminding myself that everyone dies eventually, right? I won’t be alone forever.”

Ash slaps you on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit! Gotta keep up that positive thinkin’. Sam and Dean die more than anyone I’ve ever known, so you probably won’t be alone for much longer, knowin’ them.” The thought is equal parts comforting and concerning.

“Plus, you’re not alone now,” Pamela points out with a kind smile and a squeeze of your hand. “You’ve got us.”

You return her smile, feeling the weight in your chest lighten. “I do, don’t I?”

Time continues to pass but now it’s not so lonely. Ash keeps tracks of days, which is how you know it’s 2010 and you’ve been dead for seven years. You start keeping track of days as well and soon notice changing details in your little corner of heaven. Some are small, like flowers blooming temporarily instead of permanently. Others are much more noticeable, like the incredible thunderstorm that rocks your tiny cabin in early May. You hadn’t realized you were missing the weather so much until you were sitting on your bed with a blanket and a book listening to the wind whip around your home.

Another perk of keeping track of time is having things to look forward to on specific days. You plan times to hang out with your new friends. Neither Ash nor Pamela are someone you would have hung out with in life. You were a little more straight-laced. Teacher’s pet, top of the class, never got in trouble, that sort of thing. But something about them - Pamela, especially - helps to pull you out of your shell a bit. The three of you have movie nights, dance parties, and lake days. Pamela can’t really do her psychic stuff in Heaven, nor is there much point to it, but she gets you into meditation and yoga and laughs when your cheeks burn at her comments about how the boys will enjoy how bendy you are.

“Do you think either of them will want to be with me?” you ask her one night when it’s just the two of you, lying together in your bathing suits on the dock while the cool summer night air dries the lake water on your skin. “Not just sex. I mean like… romantically.”

“Girl, they’d be stupid or blind or both to not want to be,” Pamela shoots back. “You’re gorgeous, inside and out. You’re fucking hilarious, you’re smart, you’re fun to be around. You cook like a goddamn professional. Dean’s going to love that.”

You laugh and roll onto your side, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Yeah? Good to know.”

“Those boys are close,” she continues on a more serious note. “Really close. As in, I’m pretty sure they’re an item already but if they’re not, they will be soon. I think it’s a soulmate thing mixed with a codependent thing? Regardless, that’s going to be the tricky part. Figuring out where you fit into their carefully crafted dynamic. But I don’t think you’re meant to come between them. I think you’re meant to balance them out. I can see aspects of both boys in you. I’m no relationship expert - the tattoo on my lower back tells you all you need to know about that.” She shoots you a wink and you laugh, grinning back at her. “But three is a sacred number. The Holy Trinity and all that.”

“The whole brothers thing is weird,” you point out.

“Oh, I’m not gonna deny that. But if Heaven decided it was okay with making two brothers soulmates, then who are we to judge?”

You roll onto your back again with a nod, stretching your arms above your head. “Okay, you’ve got a good point there.”

“Happens on occasion. Stop worrying so much. Things will work out in the end, right? Destiny and all that?”

“Destiny can kiss my ass,” you say, quoting something she’s said jokingly on many slightly drunk late nights.

Pamela cackles and you giggle quietly beside her, gazing up at the stars. You’re feeling much better now than before. Maybe things will work out. You won’t know until they finally show up.

Eleven years pass and your little found family grows as Ash finds more friends. How the angels don’t notice all of his jumping around, you have no idea. At this point, it’s probably safe to assume that they know and just really don’t give a shit. He used to talk about being chased and almost unmasked by angels but in recent years there’s been none of that since he found you.

Heaven still gets lonely sometimes, though less so now that you have people to hang out with. Jo in particular is a great addition to the group. She’s a few years older than you were when you died and you think if you’d met in life, you would have gotten along great. She definitely thinks the whole brother-soulmates-trio mess is super weird at first but adjusts to the idea over time. Or maybe she decides to just stop mentioning it. Either way, the two of you hang out regularly after Ash finally finds a way to communicate between Heavens without needing to travel.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon when everything changes.

You’re having a lazy day. First a little lie-in, then a big breakfast with your favorite fruits and morning proteins, and now you’re sprawled on the couch watching a little TV and considering going for a swim later. You have no plans, nowhere you need to be, and no expected visitors.

Which is why the unfamiliar male voices that come floating through your open living room windows immediately catch your attention.

You leap to your feet and peek through the curtains to see two tall men in jeans, button-up shirts, and jackets walking up the path to the house. The shorter man you don’t recognize but the taller one, even after thirteen years, you would know anywhere. That walk, the long hair curling around his collar, the way he throws his head back in laughter at something his brother says.

“Sam,” you gasp, too quiet for anyone but you to hear.

You scramble for your shoes, shoving sandals on your feet and throwing open the front door right as the Winchesters reach the porch steps. They both freeze in their tracks, Dean throwing a hand across his brother’s body in what’s clearly a reflexive, protective gesture. They both stare at you in silence with wide eyes and expressions you knew you would see but still hurt regardless, especially from Sam.

“Sam,” you say softly, hopefully, even knowing what his response will most likely be.

“Who the hell are you?”

—

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mrswhozeewhatsis · 3 years

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Soft

A/N: This is for both the @spnfanficpond's S14 Weekly Episode Challenge, week 20, and also this month's Alpha Reader Program with @deanwinchesterswitch! Kym is a great Alpha reader, putting up with so much babbling of ideas with me!!

Summary: Chuck is depowered, Jack de-poofed Eileen and Y/N, and they all rescued Cas from the Empty. (The finale never happened fight me.) Now, with no more Big Bads on the horizon, Dean needs to figure out what his happily ever after looks like. Once he does, then he needs to go get it.

Pairing: Destiel x reader

Warnings: Pining. Idjits in love. Canon-divergent after 15x19. Fluff.

Word count: 4311 words

Prompt: "I'll stop talking." "Probably a good idea."

Dean watches her throw her arms around Cas’s waist and really snuggle into his embrace. It’s done. Chuck is depowered, Jack is in charge, Y/N is back, and now Cas is back. Everything is as it should be. Dean pats Cas on the shoulder, meeting his gaze with a smile he can feel is strained, locks eyes for a second with Y/N, and heads towards his room via the drink trolley. A little time resting in the only soft thing he’s ever been allowed to keep is definitely in order.

Sitting on his bed, back propped against the headboard and whiskey bottle in hand, he forces himself to consider everything he’s been trying not to think about for far too long. Cas will want to talk at some point, and Dean knows he can’t get it wrong. Well, no, he actually could get it all very disastrously wrong, but this time, he doesn’t want to.

And he has so very much to think about if he wants any chance to get this right. First, he needs to decide what “right” looks like.

If you’d asked him a few years ago what a good life looked like, he would have denied Cas’s place in it. There were just so many reasons why Cas couldn’t be a part of any picture he’d have painted back then. That was before, though. Before Cas told him, unequivocally, that he loved Dean in a way he thought he couldn’t have.

Maybe a year ago, if Cas had said those same words, Dean would have jumped into his arms and kissed the hell out of him. At that point, he’d finally admitted to himself that Cas was more to him. That Cas meant more than Dean’s fear of someone thinking he liked dick. Cas meant more than his hang-ups about how sex worked with a dude. Cas was more than a guy, and not simply because he wasn’t human. Angel or not, Cas was Dean’s person.

That was before, though. Before Mary died. Before Chuck had his little hissy fit. Before Dean acted like an ass… again. Before Y/N.

Now, Dean sits on his bed, not drinking the whiskey in his hand because he knows it won’t help. He needs to think clearly. He needs to decide how he feels. He’s loved Cas for years. But he’s beginning to think that maybe he loves her, too.

She appeared with the army of hunters that had arrived when Chuck opened Hell. She was relatively new to hunting, so when her partner died early on, she needed an experienced partner. With Dean barely speaking to him, Cas needed something to focus on, and he took her under his wing, so to speak. Which meant Dean barely spoke to her, either, outside of barking orders.

He was just so angry at the time, and it spilled onto her. Dean didn’t want Cas around him, but then he didn’t want Cas focusing on her, either. Or giving her that squinty head tilt. Hugging her while she grieved her partner. Talking to her about lore and weapons and sigils.

With Jack and Rowena dead, Y/N filled the fourth seat in the Impala just a little too quickly for Dean’s liking. And it had nothing to do with how fondly Cas looked at her when she fell asleep on his shoulder. Yeah, he understood that she needed training and experience, but there were a million other hunters fighting ghosts and zombies with them that she could have joined.

Dean was so mad, Cas left. And she went with him. And no, Dean did not spend several sleepless nights wondering about the sexual orientation of angels.

She and Cas were hunting partners for a while, but then Cas went to Heaven, so she moved into the bunker and never left. Dean tried not to dump his shit on her, knowing that it was his shit and not hers and he was being a dick, but she was everywhere—cooking in the kitchen, beating up the heavy bag in the gym, shooting curse words into the paper targets in the range. Dean didn’t want to laugh when she slapped one on his chest that read “DICK” as she walked out the door. He also didn’t want to deck Fancypants Dean from the other world when he asked her to go with them to Rio and then kissed her, dipped her like a 50’s heroine and everything, right in front of him!

And he definitely didn’t want to miss her when she left again with Cas. They were gone, again. Alone. Soon, he realized that he missed the smell of her cooking. He stared at the taped-over hole she left in the heavy bag when she tried attacking it while wearing heels. He tried to forget how lethal she was in the gun range. He failed to stop wondering how many beds were in the motel room they were sharing each night.

He got better about not being a dick to her when they returned. He even shared his pie. The first time she gave him one of her hundred-watt smiles, he nearly melted. She offered to help wash Baby, and he accepted. Not being a dick got easier as they became friends.

Then Chuck killed her. Just poofed her into nothing. A finger snap and Dean felt like he was back on the rack, a knife slicing into his heart. Why? Watching Cas mourn her was almost as hard as admitting that he felt the same way. He shouldn’t feel this way. They were friends. But the pain and grief in Cas’s eyes were mirrored in his chest. Not that he could say that to anyone. She was Cas’s… something.

Yet, before the Shadow swallowed him and Billie whole, Cas still said that his moment of complete happiness was loving Dean.

After Cas was gone, Dean sat on the floor in the dungeon and wondered at the complete lack of black goo anywhere. It had seemed to be everywhere but had left no trace. His mind bounced against the image of Cas getting swallowed whole and ricocheted into the image of Y/N poofing into thin air. Sam’s face when he picked up Eileen’s car keys, phone, and wallet. Jack’s face burning brightly when Chuck killed him in the graveyard. Mom’s face when he wrapped a shroud around the body that wasn’t hers. Charlie’s face as she lay in that awful motel bathtub. Bobby’s face as he called them idjits one last time. Dad’s face when the doctors tried to revive him, but he was already long gone.

Dean went on autopilot. He got up from the floor, drove to Sam and Jack, and then, he … did what needed to be done. On the drive away from Chuck’s defeat, Dean tried to imagine the life ahead of him without Chuck’s influence. Just him and Sam and Jack. He pictured them in the bunker, all in black and white like the old photos of the Men of Letters in the archives. Nothing big to fight, only little hunts. Maybe there would be the occasional trip to Hell to visit Rowena. Maybe Rowena could use a hand down there? Hell sounded nice, this time of year. You know, when everyone else is dead….

Dean didn’t let himself complete that thought. He still had Sam.

Then Jack brought back Y/N and Eileen. Color returned to Dean’s world. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than Heaven or Hell. With Y/N in his arms, all he could think about was Cas. Dean needed Cas back, even if it meant watching them ride off into the sunset together. When Jack said he couldn’t get Cas as easily as he’d gotten Y/N and Eileen, she ended up crying in Dean’s arms, letting him comfort her. She comforted him. They comforted each other.

Before the big rescue, Dean decided that if Cas and Y/N chose to go off and live a happy life together, he’d wish them well, even if it meant drowning himself in whiskey.

But now they’re both here. When their departure was hypothetical, it was easy to convince himself that he could be supportive. Now that he was up against the reality of it, he could barely breathe. Yes, the two of them alive and happy together without him is better than the two of them dead, but….

Dean puts down the whiskey and grabs an open bottle of what is probably very stale water off his desk. He drinks it down and then stares at the whiskey bottle. He tries to breathe through the pain in his chest caused by the prospect of visiting Cas and Y/N in their little country cottage with the white picket fence and beehives in the backyard. Oh, how he wants to drink something stronger than water and make this pain stop.

No. He needs to say this to himself completely sober.

“I want them,” he announces to the room, quietly enough that no one outside could hear, but the words still echo in his ears. “No, I don’t just want them. I want a bacon double cheeseburger with extra onions and a slice of apple pie with a scoop of ice cream on top. I need them. I need Cas, and I need her, and I need to stop acting like I don’t.”

Picturing the little country cottage once more, he shakes his head. “I have to try. Cas said he loved me. Y/N at least doesn’t think I’m a dick. I can’t do nothing, anymore. I have to try. I have to tell them both and at least ask them to give me a chance.”

Dean pulls at his hair and sighs. “But that’s not how the world works. I can’t have them both. I need to decide who to talk to first. I need to choose.”

The angel that literally saved him from Hell but wears a vessel Dean doesn’t know how to handle, or the woman who would be the complete package if he weren’t already in love with Cas.

“How do I choose?”

And that’s all assuming that either of them even (still) wants him. Cas may have changed his mind after Dean stood there stupidly and said freaking nothing while the Empty swallowed him whole. And she’s never really indicated that she wanted anyone but Cas. And Cas has always seemed perfectly happy to indulge her attentions. Hell, maybe they will go off together to that cottage in the country and leave him alone. After the way he’s acted, it’s the least he deserves.

“If I even have a choice, I can’t choose.”

Pacing the room, he kneads the problem in his mind like a baker would knead dough. After only a couple of minutes, he tires of rolling around a thousand “what ifs” in his head and stops in front of his bedroom door, hand almost grabbing the knob to turn it.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asks himself, trying to give himself the courage to move. “They both say they don’t want me, they only want each other, and I’m left alone, like I’ve always been. Nothing changes for me.”

Swallowing down the blast of grief that idea causes, he takes a deep breath and watches from outside of his body as he turns the doorknob and walks down the hallway.

He hears her voice coming from her room long before he reaches it, but he’s almost in the doorway before he can make out the words she’s saying. She’s chattering in that way she does when she’s excited or nervous about something, and his heart clenches as he wonders what’s got her so jittery.

“It’s just that there’s so much to consider and so many possibilities and I’ve been waiting until now to think about it and oh god now I’m rambling and we really need to come up with a better phrase for that now that Chuck’s not in power andfuckinghellIthinkI’llstoptalking.”

Dean watches her put a hand over her mouth to stop the flow of words and can’t stop his smile. She’s adorable.

Cas sees Dean in the doorway, gives her a gentle smile, and says, “That’s probably a good idea.” He nods his head towards Dean, and she turns to look at him. They’re both sitting on the side of the bed, one of her hands is encased in both of his, and Dean feels his heart wrench at what that might mean.

He tries to read their expressions, get a feel for what’s happening in the room, but his own feelings are overwhelming him. They’re both right here, staring at him, while he’s staring at them, and no one is saying anything!

“Uh,” he starts —oh, you’re doing great there, Dean, so eloquent— before clearing his throat and taking a steadying breath, “I don’t want to interrupt you guys?”

Cas smiles, but Y/N gulps and shakes her head.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says in that way that always makes Dean feel warm inside. “It’s okay. What do you need?”

Dean tries again to read their expressions, but all he can feel is tension. Is it coming from him? “I, uh, need you,” he says to both of them, bouncing his gaze back and forth between them.

Cas stands up, letting go of Y/N’s hands, and pats her on the shoulder. “I’ll let you guys have some time alone. We can finish this later, right?”

Y/N nods, but Dean stops Cas from leaving the room with a hand on his arm. “No, Cas, I mean both of you.” Wishing that he could simply snap his fingers and have both of them automatically understand, he stares into Cas’s eyes like he’s done so many times before, trying to will his jumble of thoughts into the angel’s head.

Cas must only get static, though, because he smiles his same old fond smile, puts his hand on Dean’s left shoulder like he always does, and replies, “Of course, Dean. I’m always here when you need me. How can I help?”

Dean groans, wiping down his face with his hand while his shoulders droop. “Fuck, this is hard,” he mutters, then leads Cas back to where he’d been sitting on the bed, drags over the desk chair, and sits facing them both. “Look, I don’t do chick flick stuff, and you guys both know that, so bear with me, okay?”

Cas and Y/N both nod, and Dean wishes he had the whiskey bottle with him. Maybe a little in vino veritas would help him get through this. Staring at the two of them, he doesn’t even know where to start. He looks back and forth at each of them again, noting that they’re holding hands once more, and focuses on that.

“Look, guys, I know you two are,” he waves a hand around trying to indicate what he means, “together? Involved? Whatever you want to call it since we’re not in high school and we’ve all worked to derail an apocalypse or two. And I don’t want to mess with that. Well, not exactly. Wait, that’s not what I meant.” He takes a steadying breath and mutters, “Fuck, this is hard,” yet again.

He looks up and finally notices that both Cas and Y/N are now considerably less relaxed than they were a minute ago. Both sit stiff-backed, trying to look at anything but each other, and their hands are no longer linked.

“Wait, you guys are together, right?” Dean asks, suddenly questioning every moment he’s ever seen between them.

Y/N clears her throat and replies, “Well, that’s kind of what I was trying to talk to Cas about when you came in.” Her eyes bounce between Cas and Dean nervously and she shifts her position on the bed a little so she’s facing towards Cas a little more. “Cas, part of what I was trying to say is that I have, you know, feelings for you, that are, well, more than friendship.” Her words rush faster and faster until she gets to the end. “I held it in for so long, and then I was dead, and you were dead, and it was all awful, but now we’re back, and we’re here, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel what I feel.” She ends with a small gasp of much-needed air and then stares fearfully at the angel while she carefully exhales.

Cas tilts his head and squints, and Y/N slowly deflates a little bit more with every moment Cas takes to reply. Dean had no idea what he was walking into but somehow feels a little better knowing he’s not the only one feeling the need to put things on the table. The only concern now is that he might be watching the two people he wants so very much get together right in front of him, without him. Well, I’ll always have Sammy and visits to Rowena in Hell, he thinks.

“Cas? Please say something,” Y/N pleads, the panic becoming clear to Dean as her breathing quickens and her hands fumble in her lap.

“I thought you were in love with Dean?” Cas blurts out, leaving all three of them exchanging looks between them.

Dean sits up straighter and glances between Cas and Y/N, but focuses more on Y/N. “Really?” He can’t stop the word from leaving his mouth. He’s too excited by the possibility. Doing the math in his head, his heart starts to race happily. Half a chance Cas really loves him like he said, half a chance Y/N loves him like Cas said, that equals a whole chance he might actually get at least half of what he wants.

Completely ignorant to the social graces surrounding admitting other people’s feelings for other people to those other people, Cas just keeps going, turning to Dean. “Yes. I’ve noticed her engaging in some of the social actions that usually indicate romantic affection towards you. I assumed that meant she had feelings for you.”

Dean looks at Cas, then throws his hands up in the air. “Well, I’ve been watching the two of you cuddle up together all the time like two peas in a damn pod, so I knew she had feelings for you! And you’ve been cuddling right back, so I figured that meant the two of you were a thing, no matter what you said!”

Face glowing a bright red, Y/N interrupted the staring contest between the two men. “Well, I’ve been watching all the eye-fucking between you two since day one, so I thought you two were a thing! I mean, seriously, you two need to kiss or fuck or something so the rest of us can breathe clear air, again!”

Both Dean and Cas turn to stare at Y/N.

“What? You two had no problem talking about my feelings! Turnabout’s fair play!”

Cas takes hold of Y/N’s hand to ground her and says, “So, you have romantic feelings for both of us, then?”

Fear washes over her face as she nods, nervously glancing between the two of them.

Cas smiles. “And I have romantic feelings for both of you,” he states. The two of them smile at each other for a moment and then turn to Dean in unison. Their hands are clutched together, knuckles white with tension.

With two pairs of striking eyes staring at him, Dean squirms.

“Dean, we would very much appreciate you telling us what you’re thinking and feeling, right now,” Cas said, using his calmest and most caring voice. “I believe the phrase is, ‘this is a safe space.’”

Dean takes a steadying breath, looks at each of them individually, and decides there’s no use running now. He’s here. He knows there will be a soft landing when he jumps. He’s jumped into worse with less and come out winning. He can do this.

Dean takes Y/N’s free hand in one of his and squeezes it while he decides what words to use. She relaxes, her shoulders dropping, but Dean notices Cas stiffen out of the corner of his eye. Dean stiffens right along with him, bringing his eyes up just in time to see the flash of disappointment in Cas’s eyes before it disappears.

Fuck, he’s screwing this all up, already.

Words are still foreign things he can’t seem to grasp, so he decides to act instead. Still holding Y/N’s hand, he reaches with his other hand to grasp Cas’s neck and pull him in.

The kiss is awkward as hell. Cas’s eyes are wide open when Dean closes his, and then teeth clash, and Cas stays frozen while Dean tries to gently kiss some life into him. Right before Dean is about to pull away and question all his life choices, Cas melts. Cas’s hand is suddenly in Dean’s hair, pulling Dean closer as the kiss turns into the warmest, loveliest kiss Dean’s ever experienced. Cas’s lips are as soft as Dean ever imagined, the little bit of rough stubble a new but not awful feeling, and Dean’s pretty sure he could do this for hours and never come up for air. Maybe it would kill him, but he’d be okay dying this way.

Eventually, the kiss turns to little nibbles, and then they simply sit there for a moment, foreheads together and eyes closed, feeling the warmth of each other.

“I didn’t think you could feel what I feel,” Dean whispered. “And then you said you could, and you did, and then you were gone, and it was too late.” He shifts only enough to press his lips to Cas’s again one more time. “You can have everything you want, angel,” he says, pulling back enough to look Cas in the eyes.

Cas’s smile is as wide and happy as Dean’s ever seen it. They stare at each other for another one of those long moments where Dean swears Cas must be able to freeze time. Cas’s eyes shift away from Dean, and he’s reminded that he’s staring at only half of his happiness.

The other half is still holding his hand, watching him and Cas with wide eyes and a shy smile. With nothing left to lose, Dean leans in and feels the rest of his world click into place as his lips settle perfectly on hers. The kiss with her is different, and yet also the same in how right it feels. She opens her mouth a little, and their tongues slide together like they’ve done this a hundred times before. When they finally break apart, he doesn’t know what to say, so he just lets his smile loose. She smiles back, and he knows she understands.

Everything in him wants to keep going back and forth, kissing them both, but there’s always that little voice inside his head —which sounds a bit like Chuck, these days— that tells him that this isn’t real. It makes him slow down a bit, lean back in his chair, and enjoy looking at the two people in front of him. He watches the two of them kiss and is surprised when his gut doesn’t churn with jealousy this time.

Each time he had imagined what they did behind closed doors, he was miserable. Yet, here he is, watching them kiss, feeling happy. The part of him that was jealous and hurt now knows that they both want him, too. He’s not on the outside looking in, anymore.

The little voice that sounds like Chuck gets a little louder. ‘What is this, a three-way roll in the hay like with the Doublemint twins back before Hell, or those triplets with Lee? Yeah, this isn’t how real life works, pal.’

Cas and Y/N finally pull away from each other but continue to stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Now, Dean knows how other people have felt while he’s stared at Cas in the past. Part of him wants to laugh at that, but that evil little voice has convinced him that this is temporary. They’re all holding hands, now, like some kind of hippie prayer circle or Zen meditation thing, grinning like idiots at each other, and it can’t last.

Dean’s smile falters, and he looks down at their hands, trying to memorize this moment before it all comes crashing down. Before he has to choose. Before they have to choose. Before he loses everything.

Cas lets go of his hand and uses it to lift Dean’s chin so he sees Cas’s face again. “You can have this, Dean. We can have this, exactly like this. We don’t have to choose. It won’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is, right?” Cas’s hand drops down and grasps his hand, again. “Polyamory is not unheard of and is accepted in many cultures.”

Dean looks back and forth between Cas and Y/N, gauging their feelings about this from their expressions.

Y/N giggles and shrugs when Dean looks at her, questions in his eyes. “I’m game to try if you are. I’m guessing it’s going to involve a lot of honesty and talking, but I could never choose between you.”

Dean’s shoulders relax and he takes what feels like the first deep breath of his life. He’s fallen, hard and fast, expecting the pain of a crash landing, but found a safety net instead. It’s thrilling, it’s scary, and his heart wants to burst out of his chest, but it’s all good.

Squeezing both of their hands, he grins. “Let’s do this, then.”

Later, when he and Y/N are curled into Cas in bed, who’s reading a book because he doesn’t sleep, Dean squeezes her hand on the broad chest between them and smiles when she squeezes back. When he’s asleep and dreaming about hunts and fights and beating the Devil, for the first time, when he falls, he lands softly.

#pond s14 weekly challenge #alpha reader program #mrswhozeewhatsis writes #incoherent babbling by mrswhozeewhatsis #destiel x reader #dean x reader #destiel fluff #dean fluff

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 3 years

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Under the Ocean, Above the Clouds

Nemo here!! So, as mentioned in the ask that my dear friend @straight-into-the-animus sent me, I do have a Soulmates!AU. However, because I am a sucker for mixing stuff (and because I truly know no chill whatsoever), it’s also a Fantasy/Magical!AU, and if the moodboards wasn’t clear enough, it’s an AU where Mermaids and Angels exist and are the main protagonists. So, allow me to share a little bit about the lore first. (keep reading under the cut)

In this Au, there are two main races, so to speak: the Celestial and the Finfolk. The Celestials, also known as Winged People, are people that live up above the clouds, in Silver Cities that float up in the sky through magic. They are what we consider Angels, so to speak, although they are not, not in the biblical sense of the word anyway. They have a way to conceal their wings that make them blend easily among the humans, and when they conceal their wings, they appear fully human, although their hair are as soft as down (and a few are actually hidden beneath those locks) The Mermaids (or “Finfolk” as they are called by the Winged People) is made up primarily of mermaids belonging to different folklore. It’s not unusual to find “regular mermaids” mingling with selkies, tritons, merrows and melusines. They usually inhabit the shallow waters close to the shore (thinking about between 40-70 mt of depth in the ocean) and it's not unusual to find them on shore. When it comes to regular mermaids, they can spend some time on the shore, gaining legs, but that time is connected to the tides, and generally they can only access land only during the low tides.They gain their legs and lose their tails temporarily, but retain their gills. Now, in this AU, Dottie is a mermaid that normally lives in the cold waters of Svalbard, up in the northern part of the Atlantic Ocean, and ventures out of that place only to visit her sisters in the warmer waters of Cape Nereus, where they live all together. Whenever Dottie arrives and join her sisters’ pods, she goes directly to Colette (my Unity Oc that I have yet to introduce), for a potion that allows her to live in the warmer waters without worrying about getting overheated. Dottie is a skilled musician, able to play the human violin and the mermaids’ ocarina with impeccable talent, and like all Finfolks, her voice is heavenly, if dangerous. Much like her human counterpart in my canon AU, she is a stargazer and her most precious possession is a human sextant and a compass that her old mentor, Byron of the Northern Sea actually gave her when he taught her how to read through the stars about the ancient myths. Jacob is a Celestial, born up in the sky with his twin Evie. He was a hatchling of just a few hours that he already started to be a troublemaker, already trying to spread his wings without them being able to actually support him properly. He grew up looking forward to becoming the best flyer among the Celestials, but dreaded the moment he would have to join their Army, despite being a dear friend with Arno Dorian, The Keeper of the Peace. Jacob, much like Shay Cormac before him, always had an incredible passion for the sea, and would find any occasion to fly down to the shore far below in order to look for hidden treasures or in hope to find pirates to challenge to a duel. He also adores to listen to sea shanties as well, and it’s not unsual to hear him sing. Jacob's wings are of course those of a rook, while Dorothea's fins are those of a Betta fish (this last choice is purely stylistic on my part because, since I want to draw them, I want to have those whimsical fins floating around like there is no tomorrow.)

Each mermaid and each celestial is born with a small object that usually contains another small object that signifies who their soulmates are going to be. Finfolks are born with a conch or a closed shell that will contain a pearl with the colours of their soulmate’s tail, while the Celestial are born with a small egg that contains a feather that embodies the colours of their soulmate’s wings. Usually the conches and the eggs are intact until the Mermaid or the Celestial reaches puberty, the age in which they start to develop romantic feelings for another being. Unlike all other Merfolk and Celestials, though, Dottie’s and Jacob’s didn’t open, leaving them both to think that they would never be able to find their soulmate. It happened before to others, but of course, when the time came and they didn’t see them opening, they were left devastated, for it was a great shame among Celestials and Merfolk not to have a soulmate. Those who didn’t were considered “incomplete”, and looked upon with pity.

The years starts to pass, and Jacob and Dottie still hope that they will find someone for themselves, even if not their soulmate. And one day, they actually find that someone by chance. Jacob, now in his 40s, is sitting by himself on the beach, preening his wings, singing a song of old he had once heard from Edward. Dottie happens to be in the nearby, and hears him, and because it’s a soulmate!AU (and I think the two of them have enough angst as it is in my other two stories), Dorothea is immediately smitten by this handsome winged man, whose voice is so sweet, a gentle low vibrato.

Jacob as well is curious about this young woman, and uncaring about the law that forbids Celestials to mingle with Finfolks, he approaches her and the two starts to talk, and enjoy their time together on the beach. Only once they part ways, they realize that their egg/shell has opened, revealing a white opalescent feather and a obsidian black pearl, exactly like Dottie’s tail and Jacob’s wings.

Now, in this AU, I also included Shay, and for him, I tried to mirror his situation in Rogue, so to speak. Shay was born a Celestial, but at a certain point in his life, he defected for the love of a Finfolk. Due to his defection of the Celestials, Shay had his wings broken by the Keeper of the Peace, the Winged One Arno Dorian, the leader of the Celestial Army. Shay’s wings were never able to heal properly, and when it was clear that he would not be able to fly anymore, he decided to cut them away, to sever whatever bond he still had to the Celestials, Now only two large scars are left on his back. However, when he started to sail the sea with his vessel, he found happiness again. Shay had the wings of a white-tailed eagle, The defection of Shay was caused by his love for the sea and its people, rather than its first allegiance to the Celestials. He had fallen in love with a mermaid that was later on killed by some soldiers of the Celestial Army, and he took his vengeance upon them, breaking their wings, therefore crippling them forever. For this reason, Shay’s wings had been broken the same way he did those soldiers, and he had been exiled, substantially sentenced to die, because life away from the Celestials is highly dangerous, and solitary Celestials are easy prey for the Crossed Ones (a.k.a. The Templars). Celestials and Mermaids are not meant to ever be together, and so it's forbidden for them to mingle, let alone fall in love with each other. Some Celestials and some Merfolk, however, have defected, and had ignored those laws, which lead to the birth of the Sirens. The Sirens are not considered full-blooded Mermaids, but rather an aberration, because they are the results of the mating of a Winged One with a Mermaid. Usually Sirens take after either one of their parents, (i.e. a specimen that exhibits only one trait of either species - tail or wings) but in some rare instances, it’s possible to find a specimen that exhibits both traits, albeit underdeveloped (small wings that are unable to sustain the weight of the carrier, therefore unsuitable for flying and scaly legs with webbed fingers, that allow to swim faster, but not the same way as a full-blooded mermaid.). So, this is all I have for my Soulmate!Fantasy!AU. I am looking forward to write a little bit about this, maybe one-shots, maybe small drabbles, maybe even just headcanon. But I am going to write about it, that’s a certainty.

Hope you will like this!

--Nemo

#jacob frye #Assassin's Creed #Assassin's creed syndicate oc #Dorothea Starrick #soulmate!AU #mermaids #angels #queued post

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overclockedroulette · 3 years

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Anyway more kirimochi since exams have me absolutely FINISHED.

yeah maybe i made up some aasimar lore. who cares. it's my d&d character and i get to choose the canon lore divergency.

very short because lack of energy but eh. i enjoy it.

maybe fluff is my thing after all.

~~~

For aasimar, worship is as intrinsic as blinking or breathing. It’s what they’re for, after all - the holy union of an angel and mortal, existing in the image of their god to serve their god: it’s their very purpose, their raison d'être, and the fallen are no different - although, naturally, it’s more common among them just to repress that part of themself until it hurts. And it does hurt, eventually. Just as refraining from breath comes with consequence, so does refraining from a devotion woven into one’s core, and eventually, even the most vehemently independent of half-angels has to find something - or someone - to pour that devotion onto before the discomfort of stifling it becomes unbearable.

Vega knows this, of course, although he’s never really thought about it concerning Avarice. See, Avarice is very clearly of empyrean descent - the eyes give that away fairly quickly, pupiless and glowing a dull, necrotic scarlet - and it doesn’t take a genius to know that somebody so ardent in their blasphemy is among the ranks of the fallen, but it’s just… never really clicked. It’s never been something to relate to him, and, going by prior experiences, Avarice isn’t exactly one to talk about his ancestry even if questioned (the smell of burning skin and feathers is still thick in his mind; maybe that’s why he never asked). So, seeing Avarice whine loudly and double over, his legs buckling and collapsing onto his knees halfway through an attempt at flirting with him (teasingly, of course, but it still got to him, so naturally Avarice kept doing it), that repression isn’t exactly his first thought. In fact, his first thought is that the bastard’s overworking himself again, and that he’s going to have to spend another half-hour chastising him and/or listening to him insist that he’s fine and he can still do work, really, you’re being ridiculous all while sporting a temperature the sun gods would envy. That idea was cut short, however, by a short tug on the fabric of his shirt and Avarice’s voice, tremulous and wavering and trying so, so hard to sound nonchalant.

“Vega, do me a favour and try not to listen too hard to - ah - anything I say in the next few minutes. Alright?”

Naturally, he scoffed and rolled his eyes, leaning down a little to check his temperature. “Fine, that works for me. Are you-”

And, all at once, he realised the situation.

Vega has never had anyone devoted to him. Time after time, his whole life, he had watched his family, his friends, everyone he knew lay every ounce of devotion they had onto their saviour, their god reborn, their key to a new, perfect world, his sister, and not once has he ever been on the receiving end. He finds now, looking down on such a proud and arrogant aasimar on his knees below him, hands clasped together and letting words that definitely sound like a prayer spill out of his mouth quickly and flawlessly as if he’s been doing it his whole life, that he quite likes the feeling.

“You’re beautiful,” he starts, after a long-winded tangent in celestial, almost so quick that it was incomprehensible. “Every part of you, praise be, perfect, unfathomably perfect-” he has one of Vega’s hands in his now, rubbing circles into the back of his wrist with one thumb, and Vega has to stop himself from smiling, “-body, mind, and soul: flawless, sacred - you deserve everything this world has to offer and more, fuck, I’d drain the oceans for you on one command, you matter more than water anyhow, blessed pearl-”

For once, he doesn’t really register the shameless blasphemy. He doesn’t really register much of anything other than that look of raw, delirious adoration in Avarice’s eyes, boring into his own without pause as he speaks. It’s sacrilege, sure, but he loves it, and he just can’t bring himself to care enough about his own god to stop him.

It takes a few minutes for Avarice to stop talking, and when he does, he looks exhausted. Although, that’s really to be expected, having spent as long as he had speaking without reasonable pause to breathe. He’s panting, flushed a bright silver - Vega just gives him the benefit of the doubt and assumes that’s a product of overexertion, too - and somehow ends up resting his forehead in Vega’s hands, which he seems either too tired or too embarrassed to care about. There’s a long pause in which neither dare to speak, before Vega clears his throat.

“Well. For somebody so vehemently against religion, you certainly sound… reverent.”

Avarice lifts his head from Vega’s hands, shrugging. “That’s fine,” he dismisses, absentmindedly taking Vega’s left hand and sliding off the white silk glove. “It’s not ideal, but I’d rather worship you than any god.”

And when Avarice presses his lips against his hand, making full eye contact all the while, Vega almost thinks he might be enjoying himself.

#me? making up lore for convenience's sake?#it's more likely than you think #i love them actually <3 #avarice kiriatta #vega mochizuki #oc fluff #fluff #oc #oc writing #dnd oc #aasimar

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jitteryjive · 2 years

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AW YEAH! Anyways what tricks do your main toads(Prof, Dj, Shrooms, T. ode, Sea captain,) circus tricks?/gen-C

ALRIGHT GLAD YOU ASKED. so there’s way more to it than just like THEY’RE CLOWNS?!? but i’ll give the rundown. i’ll also include other involved characters as well since this is shifting to be my fav au/concept right now in development LOL

everyone who is a member of the circus participates in the main performance [except sometimes ode].

- due to the fact that there isn’t a lot of them and also selenara [he/him] is the multi-skilled one he works as the ringmaster + leader, the lead clown, and the strongman. yeah. again he can do any of the other jobs (if someone’s unable to do them) because he runs the whole circus and wants to help everyone (good for him !!!!) selenara is about 24 in this.

- ode [she/he/moon] works the controls, hence the person directing the spotlights/effects/general power source of the whole circus. she is able to work in entertainment, similar to how shroomses can work in controls/repair, but more often he can be found fixing signs or moving lights during a performance. due to the fact that moon is commonly seen around the circus and also because she prefers to be part of his friends, moon wears her own costume ^_^. ode is about 25 in this.

- surprisingly, dj [he/they] isn’t part of the circus despite him being the silliest protag. there’s lore that’ll be explained once i like. get into it and post the writing, obviously, but they’re tagged as the circus’ discoverer, and while he doesn’t participate in the entertainment or controls, they do focus on repairing the circus and making sure people come to see it! he’s a college student who’s about 24 in this.

- cherub [they/them] is one of the two directors of the games. they oversee their half of the games, which focuses more on water and themes of construction (connecting them to the angel theme). they work on entertainment next to the games, but they work on repairs for the games as well. cherub is about 23 in this.

- ken [she/he] is the other director of the two directors of the games. she’s the same as cherub, though his games are based on treasure-hunting/sailing, connecting her to sailors and also the theme of ode (since she remains with a pirate theme). [also fun fact cap and cherub are romantically holding hands in this the directors are in love #winning] ken is about 23 in this.

- craftsman [she/they] is a magician, there isn’t much more to expect /lh. her entire gist is that though they also perform magic tricks on stage during the whole circus’ main performance, she puts on their own small shows for bygoers or anyone interested. she can make origami (obviously) as their main trick, and she can work together with selenara to perform his fire tricks. craftsman is about 28 in this.

- i would have included oarsman but it would’ve been too weird to write him in with the fact that he’s cap’s dad in my canon so. apologies fellow oarsman fans

- baker [he/him] oversees the cleaning, organization, and the costumes of the whole crew. though he also performs in the performance as a trapeze artist with cherub, he prefers to fix everyone’s costumes or clean up the dressing rooms or run food vendors or anything that he’s able to nitpick. he’s about 24/25 in this, and of course he’s romantically with ode due to the fact that. yeah. and also they’re both in the same boat of “i’m a background worker who’s occasionally in the performance but wants to stay low a lot”

- (curator/i don’t have a name for him yet) [he/they] is another college student. he’s good friends with dj, and with their skill set of being good with mechanics and electricity in this, he works on repairs for the circus while it was still being fixed during the events of the main story. curator is about 23 in this.

- spade (or dj snifit as you know him) [he/him] is, you guessed correctly, another college student who’s in the friend circle with dj. he’s good with artistic abilities and therefore helps to repaint, restitch, and re-fix any visual issues with the circus alongside baker. spade is about 24 in this.

#im sure as hell not tagging everyone #pmtok au #ask #caps #clowns tw

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polyboros · 3 years

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i’m placing this post under the cut because it is both HUGE NEO TWEWY SPOILERS and also OVER 1.2K WORDS LONG but here is my neo twewy relationships headcanons infodump. ft. a lot of people but also my promised neku & shiba lore

my promised shiba & neku lore: neku doesn’t like shiba. it isn’t quite hatred but it’s very close; the only reason why it isn’t point-blank hatred is because neku can fully acknowledge and understand that shiba was being manipulated for years. however. living in shinjuku with the direct consequences of shiba’s actions, people who died because of it, makes him less than fond of the man! he is, at the very least, relieved that shiba has acknowledged what he did and is working to fix shinjuku. it can’t undo the hurt, but y’know. (gestures wildly) the whole thing i’m looping around to is that they don’t. talk about it. there’s nothing TO talk about, really. they avoid each other when in the same place for meet-ups, and shiba doesn’t push it. but hishima does keep neku updated on the shinjuku situation, and it’s... good, to hear. that things are being mended. y’know?

rhyme & haz friendship is very... something. i think that joshua gets into contact with rhyme some time after the events of neo twewy, mostly to ask for their assistance in keeping the rns updated with kaie. the whole composer thing comes into play there in a way that it does NOT necessarily with haz! rhyme meets haz through rindo, like they would with any other kinda guy, and haz is very much an angel and very much the former/current/former composer of shinjuku, but mostly rhyme knows him as that guy who doesn’t know what half of the food in shibuya is. mostly, until they see him with joshua, and they can’t be blamed for being curious! really. not like joshua would let them do research, and mr. h is nowhere to be found, but haz seems amicable enough to it. in his own way, of course.

i think they get this thing going where rhyme invites him out to do something (sometimes it’s a food place, sometimes it’s an activity, sometimes it’s something the reapers showed rhyme) and they talk about nothing while talking about A Whole Lot. those kinda layered conversations, y’know? and also. like. haz IS curious about rhyme, is the thing, because he very clearly doesn’t understand what makes humanity and shibuya tick, and especially doesn’t understand what makes rhyme tick when something so... essential was taken from them three years ago! but like. being able to adapt and grow and change around that is human nature. very much another case of “haz makes human friends he doesn’t get but likes to be around anyway” which i like for him a lot. meanwhile rhyme and kaie are texting back and forth about the higher plane and angels and things they probably shouldn’t know but hey! nobody’s snitching.

speaking of kaie. i think kaie and hishima are good friends! meanwhile kaie has extremely mixed opinions on the man’s husband. i said that kaie and shiba’s relationship is very on the mend, and i think that kaie is much more willing to accept that he wants to mend shinjuku and be happy with that (especially since they can read and analyze his soul, which probably helps in the whole trustworthiness factor. and, of course, their own readings.) but like. they do need to have a Talk, eventually, and i think that comes a couple weeks after everything settles. it’s a part of everything settling, really. shiba do you realize that one of the members of your found family was fully willing to die before following along in your path of destruction shiba. shiba. there’s a lot of people close to shiba that he hurt and i think he realizes this at the end of the game, yes, but i don’t think he sees the full magnitude of that until he talks to everyone and starts to repair shinjuku. you know how it is.

also hey do you think about how kaie and susukichi were close and then susukichi got erased or are you normal,

i’m just thinking really hard about how kaie was the one susukichi texted to tell that he was making a risky move. and how kaie’s response was “please don’t do anything rash, my friend” and then susukichi was erased. and susukichi was erased and he wanted to protect the wicked twisters if shibuya got erased and. and clearly, susukichi trusted kaie. (they were one of the only reapers left,) and. i'm just thinking about kaie's willingness to go down with shibuya. that conversation with hishima happens right after susukichi is erased. how much of home is even left to move with? how many times is shiba going to sacrifice their family for this, if kaie keeps going? it's... better to stay, if it's inevitable (and in the end it isn't. but susukichi is still gone.)

AND THEN IN THE HISHIMA CONVERSATION TOO! kaie’s little snap at him to “reflect on himself before speaking of others :/” when hishima makes a comment about leaving shiba behind too. they’re absolutely not having it when susukichi was just erased (when susukichi was doing something stupid, when susukichi wanted to stop shiba before shibuya could be erased again,)

gestures wildly. i have thoughts. but continuing on for now,

fret & kariya hang out. i do have relatively strong feelings on fret & kariya’s canonical interactions, which are mostly short but RICH with character specifically from fret; in w1d4, which is arguably my favorite example of it, fret drops the act to call kariya out on his lie, in the MOST snarky voice acting, almost… mocking? but not malicious. just. calling him on it. which kariya proceeds to acknowledge (“(k) looks like you learned your lesson after all” “(f) didn’t realize we’d be tested so soon!”) but this is INTERESTING because of how early on it happens and how innocuous in the moment it seems! however. besides that. i think kariya is one of very few people fret has never really put the act up for.

i think post-game the wicked twisters DO deserve some (relatively) responsible adult figures in their life, and while i love the hachiko gang dearly, they’re very newly adults and neku has been gone for three years. they’re healing and while i DO think they care for the twisters they absolutely cannot fulfill the responsible adult figure role because they’re barely adults themselves. they’re in very similar situations of heavy trauma from the game. sometimes you just need a weird-but-cool reaper uncle (kariya) to bug, and fret kind of takes to hanging out with him like a duck to water

there’s a specific intersection of their interests too where it’s like… “(fret voice) you like food, i like eating, let’s go hang out at a food place together” and “(kariya voice) you like fashion, i like clothes, let’s go check out some clothes places.” also i think kariya isn’t necessarily someone fret comes to for advice often but he is one of the people on the list that fret feels comfortable being honest with, at least. also fret gets to be kind of bitchy when he’s with kariya (and uzuki, too, although i think a little bit of the act goes back up when she joins their little hangouts) and it’s a NICE change of pace. a more genuine expression of self.

(i also do think it’s a funny friendship with fret being mr. minami’s favorite & kariya and sho being exes. like yeah. kariya took the kids in the divorce years later)

I THINK THAT’S IT FOR NOW? YEAH. i have other thoughts but like. none so much as to put into a post like this and also this post is already SO LONG. if you’ve stuck it out until now, a) how and b) thanks for sticking it out i hope u enjoyed!!

#kbitycus talks #neo twewy #neo twewy spoilers #ntwewy #woo yeah woo yeah woo #im not tagging everyone but guys with big parts in this are;#kaie. kariya. fret. rhyme. haz. shiba. neku for a bit

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callboxkat · 3 years

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The Truth

Fandom: Supernatural

Author’s note: I chose to begin the story with the scene in Billie's library. That part mostly aligns with canon, but I feel it provides important context for the confession. Most of the dialogue comes from this transcript: http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/15.18_Despair_(transcript)

Summary: The confession scene between Castiel and Dean ends a little differently.

Warnings: death, violence, injuries

Word count: 3764

Writing Masterpost!

...

“I'll let you in on something,” Billie says, her hand just barely keeping her own scythe away from her throat. She stands pressed against the wall of her library, where endless bookshelves stretch in either direction, each one containing hundreds of tomes, each one detailing someone’s death. She seems unconcerned by the blade’s closeness—and she has reason not to be. She focuses on Dean, ignoring the angel behind him. “When you cut me… that little nick? It was fatal.” She grimaces. “Something I can't survive. See for yourself.”

She reaches with her free hand and pulls aside her coat—or rather, peels it back from where it sticks to her flesh, which has turned a necrotic green, visibly rotting away. The ugly wound has spread from the cut on her shoulder across part of her chest, stretching down under her sleeve to an unknown extent. The infection seems to spread even in the moment before she allows the coat to fall back into place.

Dean falters slightly. Because Billie is right. That wound does not look survivable—that wound is death itself. Dealt by a blade that the previous Horseman had once said could reap God Himself. But he keeps the scythe at her throat—dying or not, Dean knows better than to lower it.

He may have made a mistake, coming here.

Billie places her other hand on the scythe, glaring.

“You killed me, Dean. So yeah, no. I don't care about your friends. I don't care about your family. But seeing you here has reminded me of something.” Her grimace of a smile widens, and she inhales sharply. “There is one thing I'd like… one wish, before I go. I'd like to see you dead.”

Dean’s expression hardens.

Billie suddenly shoves the scythe aside and surges forward, backhanding Dean with her right hand. Cas lunges forward to catch him. They both move towards Death—to do what, against her, neither knows—but Billie has already taken hold of her scythe and stands tall, powerful even as she grows closer to her end. She slices the scythe, Castiel and Dean barely lurching back in time to avoid it. Both men’s eyes are wide. This is not going to plan, not at all.

Billie smiles.

She thrusts out a hand and the angel and human are flung back, flying between two stark gray bookcases to land harshly on their backs. A single book on one shelf falls over, opening to blank pages.

Castiel and Dean struggle to their feet, Cas with one hand on Dean’s arm. He doesn’t seem to realize having done so, and keeps it there. Dean does notice, but he doesn’t mind. He reaches for Cas, as well.

Billie waits for them to get back up, standing there with her scythe. She is in no rush. She has a little time, for this. Maybe she’ll even kill the pet angel, first. Make Dean watch, before she claims him, too.

“I'm so glad you came.”

She stalks leisurely forward, amused as Dean and Cas dash down the row of bookcases, trying to get away. Yes, revenge is the perfect way to spend her final moments. Their fear alone is quite satisfying to watch. She follows her targets, smiling.

They manage to make it back to the door they’d so foolishly opened to reach her, and dash through the portal. It blends seamlessly back into the normal wall of the library as they close the portal.

No matter, Billie thinks. The chase is half the fun.

…

Dean and Cas run through the door, Cas slamming it shut behind them. The wall returns to regular brick. They are back in the bunker.

“Come on,” Dean says, reaching for Cas, already walking. Cas follows closely behind.

They know they are still not safe. Billie isn’t called Death, a Horseman, for nothing. Very few things can get in this bunker uninvited, but Dean is sure she is one of the ones that can.

Dean makes it to the map room, walking agitatedly. Because anything is better than just standing there, waiting for her to come. Dean spins around as he walks, searching for something, anything that can keep Death itself at bay. “Come on, Dean. Think, think!”

As Dean continues walking, searching, Cas speaks up, holding his hands out to the sides.

“Dean, where are you going?”

“I—I don’t know!”

“You know she can find us anywhere.”

Dean turns to him, desperate. “I know, I know that! I just....” He paces, then pauses opposite the angel. His voice quietens. “What do we do, Ca–“

Dean gasps, cut off by a shock of pain in his chest, like something has clawed its way inside and has sealed around his heart like a vice. There is a roaring in his ears, electricity in the air. The temperature drops several degrees.

Billie is here.

Dean groans, dropping to his knees, clutching his chest. Castiel stares in shock.

Billie stands behind him on the balcony above, one hand holding her scythe, the other held up, slowly clenching into a fist. She watches as Dean writhes. She is doused in shadow, but her satisfaction is palpable. Castiel knows she is smiling.

“Billie,” Cas says aloud. He looks at her, then drops to Dean’s side, taking him by the shoulders and trying to help him up.

“My heart—” Dean gasps, his voice gravelly with pain. “My heart. I can feel her.”

Billie, on the balcony, smiles wider. Her rotting, gnarled hand clenches further, trembling. The power it takes to do this, to kill even this one human slowly, is draining her—she is quite close to the end now—but it is worth it, worth edging to her grave that much faster. Oh, is it worth it.

“Come on, Dean, we’ve gotta go,” Cas says. He can’t stop Billie, not right now, not like this. He has to get Dean out of there, somewhere they have time to think, to come up with something. He will not let Dean die like this. “Come on.”

He gets Dean on his feet and bears most of his weight as he guides the man down the hall, away from Billie, moving as fast as they can. Dean continues to groan in pain, but he is just as determined.

Billie, meanwhile, steps lightly down the stairs, taking her time, her injured hand still outstretched. Bits of bone are visible now. She seems not to mind. She simply follows, relishing this moment.

“It's you, Dean,” Billie calls. “It's always been you. Death-defying. Rule-breaking. You are everything I lived to set right. To put down. To tame. You are human disorder incarnate.”

Cas and Dean hurry on, passing by the tables, the useless telescope, the books upon books of lore that probably wouldn’t have helped even if they had time to search for something, anything, that would help.

Billie clenches her hand again and Dean collapses against a wall. Cas touches his shoulders, worried, terrified. They are briefly hidden from Billie’s view by a row of bookshelves. But she continues forward, relentless. Castiel looks over his shoulder towards her voice and the sound of her all-too-calm footsteps.

Cas heaves Dean up and they disappear downstairs, Cas now practically carrying Dean through the halls of the basement level. Dean still clutches his heart. Neither of them knows how much longer he will last if nothing changes.

“I’ve got you,” Cas says, half to himself.

Billie follows them here, too. Her scythe taps on the floor with every other step, almost like a cane. Small cracks appear in the floor each place it touches. Even the concrete, infused with warding magic as it is, is not immune to its power.

“Come on, Dean,” Billie says, her voice echoing down the hall. “You can't escape me.”

She drags the blade of her scythe against the tile wall. Cracks and an ashen color spread from the tip of the blade, like a spreading infection. Sparks fly, flaring in the dimness.

Ahead of her but still far too close, Castiel and Dean hurry on, the grinding of the blade against the wall grating on their ears. Dean would cover his ears, but he can only manage another wince, one arm wrapped around Cas’s shoulder, the other clutching his chest.

Billie is having fun, toying with them. She strolls further forward, ignoring the infection clawing its way further up her chest, spreading like ink in water up her neck. “Don't you think it's finally time? Time for the sweet release of Death?”

Cas and Dean make it into the main storage room, and Cas slams the door shut behind them. Dean, released, stumbles to the side, only to be quickly steadied by his companion. Still, Dean doubles over, coughing, wheezing, holding his chest, leaning heavily on one of the shelving units. Billie’s vice grip continues to tighten. His vision is filled with black spots.

Cas finds a pocket knife in Dean’s back pocket—he knows his hunter well, and Dean would never be without one—and uses it to slice into his own palm. He then paints a bloody sigil on the door. It flares with light as Castiel finishes drawing. There is no such thing as warding for Death itself, but this is the closest and most powerful sigil he knows. He can only hope it will work. It has too.

As the glow of the sigil fades and its magic takes effect, Dean’s shoulders slump; and he takes in a deep breath, the pain fading. He straightens, leaning on the shelves.

“Thank you,” he gasps.

“It worked?” Cas asks, hardly believing it.

Dean swallows hard and nods once.

“It blocked her grip on you,” Cas observes, relieved, but not relaxing just yet.

Billie slams her fist into the door. It shudders, but does not yield.

Cas turns to look, and seeing that the warding is holding, looks back to Dean. He looks to one side, then the other, thinking. “Dean, she said that wound was killing her. Maybe we can wait her out.”

Dean drops his hand from his chest and levels a look at Cas. “Yeah, and if we can't?

Cas sets his jaw, his angel blade appearing in his hand. “Then we fight.”

Billie’s fist slams into the door again. The warding flares with light. Not quite so bright, this time.

Dean notices, and shakes his head. “We'll lose.” He looks around the storage room, at the solid walls, the single exit. He wanders over to the devil’s trap laid into the floor, and runs a hand along the back of the chair there. “I just led us into another trap,” he says, not needing to gesture at the literal prison they stand in.

Slam. The warding flares. Weaker.

“All because I couldn't hurt Chuck. Because I was angry, and because I just needed something to kill, and because that's all I know how to do.”

Cas takes a step forward, his heart breaking, because that’s not true at all. “Dean...”

Slam. Weaker.

Dean scoffs, his gaze darting to the door and back to Cas. “It was Chuck all along. We shouldn't have ever left Sam and Jack. We should be there with them right now.” His voice breaks, and his eyes are shining now, only making Castiel’s heart ache further. “Everybody's gonna die, Cas. Everybody. I never… I never even got to apologize to Jack. The kid probably still thinks I hate him. And Sam—I’ll never see Sam again.” He shakes his head. “I can't stop it. She's gonna get through that door.”

Slam. Weaker still.

Castiel’s angel blade disappears. He looks down. “I know,” he admits quietly.

“And she's gonna kill you, and she’ll make me watch. And then she's gonna kill me.” Slowly, he didn’t need to add. And everything, everything, is going to just… end.”

Slam. Weaker still. Cas looks over his shoulder, thinking. A part of him tells him that Dean is right, that this situation is hopeless. It might be different if he still had his wings, if he could take them somewhere, anywhere else, just for a little more time, enough to wait Billie out. It would be different if Jack was there, and if Jack still had his powers. There was a time when he was powerful enough—but their failed attempt to kill God has left Jack nearly powerless. His grace seemed barely strong enough to keep him alive.

Slam.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, a desolate resignation in his eyes.

But a thought has occurred to Castiel: Jack.

He pauses, staring ahead, thinking. “Wait, there is.... There's one thing she's afraid of. There's one thing strong enough to stop her.” He looks up and sees Dean staring at him.

Dean Winchester. Beautiful as ever.

Cas takes a breath, steadies himself, and decides. He looks Dean in the eye, suddenly strangely calm.

Slam. Cas barely hears it.

Dean senses the change in tone and frowns, waiting for Cas to continue. Which he does.

“When Jack was dying, I… I made a deal, to save him.”

Dean is taken aback. Of all the things he might have expected Cas to say, this was not one of them. “You what?”

He looks at Dean, almost pleading. This is the moment, he knows. “The p—the price was my life. When I experienced a moment of true happiness, The Empty would be summoned, and… it would take me. Forever.

Dean stares for a moment, processing. A moment they do not have. Billie’s fist slams, again, into the door.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Dean asks. He has a bad feeling about where this might be going, and he does not like it.

Cas smiles, tears already collecting in his eyes. “You know, I always wondered… ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered… what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer, because the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have. I’ve always known, I think. But I think I know... I think I know, now.” He smiles, a tear rolling down his cheek. His voice breaks. “Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it.”

Dean doesn’t know how to even begin to process this. “What are you talking about, man?”

Behind them, Billie continues her attack on the warding. But it holds, for now. And neither Cas nor Dean notices her anymore. Not really. This is their moment, not hers.

Castiel steps closer, looking at Dean earnestly. Willing him to understand, to believe him. “I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're “daddy's blunt instrument.” And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.” Castiel smiles. He’s crying, and he doesn’t care. “You know… ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... knowing you has changed me.”

Dean blinks hard and looks down at the floor.

“Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world, because of you.” He takes another step forward. “You changed me, Dean.”

Dean clears his throat and speaks, quietly. Because he knows, he knows what is happening, and he knows what Cas plans have happen. But he asks, anyway. Because he doesn’t want to believe it. “Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Cas just gives him a soft look. “Because it is.”

Dean takes in a breath, to say what, he doesn’t know, but Cas cuts him off. He’s practically radiant with joy, at finally saying it. At speaking his truth, after all these years. Because even if he can’t have Dean, Dean will know.

“I love you,” he says. “I’m in love with you.”

Dean’s mouth opens. Closes. He stares. His voice is choked. “Cas, I… Please, don’t do this.”

Time has run out. Behind Dean, the spine-chilling sound of the Empty grows, black goo squeezing through the bricks of the wall, tendrils branching out into this world. Dean’s mouth opens as he turns to stare at the rapidly opening portal, all too aware of what this means. There are tears in his eyes, now.

Castiel knows, too. He is still smiling. Still joyful. Radiant. Because he’s finally said it. After twelve years. He spoke his one, deepest truth. He is ready.

Dean’s mind is running a million miles a minute. “Cas….”

Billie has broken through the warding. The door swings open, and she steps through, grinning. The necrosis of what were once small wounds has spread, eating away at her arm, her chest, her neck. The hand that was cut by the scythe is practically skeletal, now. What is visible of her chest is little more than bone, gaps visible between them and ribbons of gray-green flesh. Yet her grip on her scythe remains steady.

She hasn’t seen the Empty, yet.

Cas ignores both entities, focused only on Dean. His eyes shimmering with tears, he steps forward, and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

But Dean isn’t quite ready for a goodbye, yet.

“No!” Dean says. He grabs Cas’s hand—the cut one—and shoves Cas aside. Cas is so surprised by the turn of events that it works, and he stumbles, not quite falling, staring at Dean, confused, now. There’s a bloody hand print on his shoulder, just where the now-faded mark was on Dean’s shoulder, from when Cas raised him from Perdition.

Billie steps further into the room. And then she sees the Empty. Her expression falters, her head tilting to the side. “Oh….”

She doesn’t finish. The black slime of the Empty slams into her, climbing and crawling and consuming until nothing is left but a ball of blackness; and then Death herself is sucked into the Empty.

Gone. Forever.

Cas smiles at Dean, a small, knowing smile. One of relief that Dean is safe, but also resignation. Because the Empty is still here to collect its prize. Because nothing has changed.

Except that it has.

Billie’s scythe remains. It falls, its owner gone, blade swinging down to the ground.

Dean catches it.

In one sweeping motion, before Cas or anyone else can react, he swings the weapon around and sinks the entire blade into the Empty, just as it begins to surge towards Cas.

This blade could kill Death itself with one little cut. Death, the old Death, had once said that this scythe could reap God Himself.

The Empty… stops. It freezes, still reaching out towards Cas, but goes no further.

It pulses.

Dean lets go of the scythe, steps back, towards a stunned Castiel, and grabs the angel’s trench coat in one hand without looking at him. His face is slack with shock as what he has just done. With fear that it won’t work.

The scythe turns black. A black so dark that it’s like a hole in the fabric of the world—just like the Empty.

The Empty pulses.

Cracks begin to spread, radiating from the sunken blade. The cracks seem to leak a faint, fragile light.

And then the Empty explodes.

…

Dean is alive.

He is pretty sure of this, at least. He doesn’t think his head would hurt so much, if he were dead. Unless Chuck thought it would be funny to send him back to Hell, or to Purgatory. Which is a distinct possibility.

So, perhaps pain doesn’t rule out death as much as it might for anyone else. But Dean really doesn’t think he is dead.

He hears a cough, from somewhere nearby. Dean opens his eyes.

He is lying on the floor of the bunker’s storage room, dust motes drifting in the air. His head pounds. His ears are ringing. He slowly sits up, feeling faintly punch-drunk.

The Empty is gone, as is Billie. The shelving units, lore, and supplies of the store room have all been blown back by the force of the explosion, and lie crumpled against the walls, bottles broken, precious artifacts crushed, pages strewn across the floor.

Dean is not alone in the room.

A body lies on its side beside him, clad in a trench coat, facing away from him.

“Cas?!” Dean asks loudly, his voice cracking.

Castiel groans. He shifts, and Dean feels relief—and anger, and so, so much more—wash over him. He rushes to Cas’s side and turns him onto his back, searching his face.

They’re alive. They’re both alive. Billie is gone, the Empty is gone, and they are both alive.

Cas blinks up at Dean from the floor, blue eyes wide. Dust and a bit of blood are streaked across his face. “Dean?”

“Cas,” Dean sighs. He looks around the demolished room.

“Are they… gone?” Cas asks. He seems oddly distant. Dean can relate.

“Yeah… yeah, I think so. Come on—get up.”

Dean and Cas both struggle to their feet and dust themselves off. Dean pats away a bit of dust from Cas’s lapel, and Cas watches the gesture, silent.

Then Dean jabs his finger into Cas’s chest, hard, and fixes him with a hard glare. Cas looks down at the finger, then stares back up at Dean, dumbfounded.

Dean’s voice shakes with anger. “Don’t you ever—ever—do something like that again! Do you hear me, damnit?”

Cas stares, his mouth slightly open.

“…Dean, I…”

“Did you really think I was going to let you do that? Just—just drop that on me, and—and die? How could you something like that to me? That is not okay, Cas!”

Cas continues to stare.

Dean stops, scoffs, and lowers his hand. He looks Cas over for a moment—living, breathing, Cas—thinking. And then he swallows, and nods. “We are not done talking about this,” he promises firmly.

And then, because today has gotten crazy enough, pulls the angel forward, and kisses him.

Dean releases the stunned angel a second later. “Now let’s go find Sam, and our kid.”

They still had a God to defeat.

...

Thank you for reading!

One additional tidbit I want to make clear: This alteration does, in my story, mean that Dean doesn't die on a piece of rebar. Cas goes with on the vampire hunt-the vampires do not, by the way, wear weird skull masks-and while Dean does get impaled, Cas is able to save him. And when Jack has time, he returns to visit his fathers. (Dean still has a dog, because Miracle was the best part of the episode.)

#spn #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #spn fic #my writing #spn 15x18 #spn 15x18 rewrite #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #billie the reaper #the empty #spn season 15 #the truth fic #spn s15x18

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